Page 95 of Gathered Sparkle

“Fuck no.” He frowns at me. “I’d rather have you up with the Lambo than in the Heights when shit goes down.”

“Then let me do the Lambo.”

“I have to think it through.” He sighs. “Ugh,another thing to think about.”

“What else?” I ask, skating closer to him. “Maybe I can help.”

He hesitates before answering. “I’m struggling with how to get Belmont, Foster, and Blackwood to show up. Best option would be to send a text from Veronica’s number, but I can’t ask Nicholas to swipe her phone and do it. He’s not a pickpocket, and the stakes are too high.”

I tilt my head. “Should I?”

“No,” Ace says firmly. “Sylus mentioned another way. He could send a text and make it look like it’s from Veronica, but he’d need access to their phones first.”

“That’s way easier,” I say, shrugging.

“You’d think that.” Ace nods reluctantly. “But we’d have to swipe the phone, get it to Sy, distract the mark, and plant the phone back where it was in a couple of minutes. To pull it off,we’d need a fucking mob. A stick, a shade, a mechanic, and a duke.”

I laugh, thinking about building a pickpocket team with all of my guys, Levi, and Erza.

My guys. Fuck.

“So?” I ask. “We’re seven people.”

“Three of them are too recognizable in this city, and one’s a cop.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

I pause, thinking. “How about Annabelle?”

“Who?”

“My best friend,” I explain. “She could be the stick.”

Ace hesitates, biting his lip. “I don’t like involving people I don’t know.”

“Then get to know her,” I demand softly. “I want you to meet her anyway. She’s been… all I’ve had for the last six years.”

Something in his expression softens. “I’d love to meet her. Maybe she’d want to go out for coffee with us tomorrow?”

“We’re going for coffee?” I ask, smiling.

He’s leaving the mansion?

He’s not only touching me, not only talking to me about things he’s buried for years. He’s planning to leave the house, to step into the world he’s avoided for so long. And he’s doing it for me—forus.

I try to keep my expression from showing my awe for him as he continues, “Sylus and I want to scope out the rooftop bar at the Plaza again,” he shares as if it’s no big deal. “Make sure everything is the same as it was three months ago. She could come. We could talk. And you could see what it looks like up there.”

“Okay.” Pride swells in me when I think of everything he’s already done—getting a therapist, leaving the safety of hisroutines, sitting out here with me, talking to me like this, touching me. Every step he’s taken feels monumental, and it makes my heart ache with how strong he is, even when he doesn’t see it.

“Good.” He squeezes my hand. “Now let’s get you skating steady so you don’t faceplant during the show.”

I laugh, the sound spilling out easily, the pride I feel for him making everything feel lighter. “Challenge accepted.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Novalee

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