Page 52 of Afraid to Hope

“You and Natasha are leaving when?”

“Looks like tomorrow. She has some last-minute things to finalize here. She has a lunch meeting. I’m going to tag along.”

Simon smiled, playing along, shaking his head. “Have a difficult time letting your bride out of your sight, Rua?”

“Fuck yes.”

Simon threw his head back and laughed.

Viviane scowled and crossed her arms below her ample chest. “Do you often talk like that, Bane?”

Crow’s-feet crinkled from the corners of Bane’s eyes, and he gave her a big smile. “Yep. Guilty.”

“The other night you didn’t talk like that. It’s vulgar. I’m surprised Natasha is okay with your language.”

“Okay with what?” Natasha called, walking toward the group with an insulated pot and plates.

Bane rose and relieved Natasha of the pot and dishes. “My dirty mouth.”

“Oh. That.” Natasha cocked her head at Bane and smirked. “Bane only uses it when he deems it most effective.”

“Sweetheart.” Bane chortled and pulled Natasha onto his lap. “That’s fucking perfect!”

Natasha snuggled back against him and turned her slate-gray eyes on Viviane. Her brows rose and she delivered her next words deadpan. “What can I say? I married a crass American.”

Bane laughed even harder. Simon joined in, and then Natasha. Gia giggled, and Viviane sat quietly, taking it all in, clearly confused why the hellfuckwas so funny.

The one who serves people is their master.

“Christ, I thought they would never leave,” Bane said, pulling out into Casablanca’s snarled traffic. It was going to be tight getting to the meeting with Emmet on time. “Sorry, Nat. But a little of Viviane and Gia go a long way.”

“I am inclined to agree, but it was good to see them before they return to their homes. Especially Gia.”

“They live where again?” Bane asked, his focus on waiting for traffic to clear to make a left turn.

“Gia lives in Italy with her mom. Viviane lives in France. Is Simon actually staying?”

“That’s the plan. We’ll firm things up after we talk with Emmet”—he nodded to her tote on the floor in front of her feet—“and share what we found. We haven’t had time to go through theriador take a look at the Fatima. Simon can help us.”

“It could take a long time.”

“Yes, but we’re packed.”

“True, but we will need to stop at the market after we meet with the director.” She still couldn’t bring herself to call him Emmet. “I need some items for dinner.”

“Can do. I’ll help.”

“That’s what you said last night.”

Bane glanced at Natasha, smiled wickedly, and winked. “Yup, and look where that got us.”

Despite greeting Bane and Natasha warmly when they entered, Matilda’s worry was evident. “He’s waiting for you. I’ll get lunch ordered,” she said, ushering them to the doors outside the director’s office.

“Thanks, Tilly. Any word on Nasir?” Bane inquired.

She paused, her hand on the door handle, and blew out the breath she had been holding. “We just received an update. Surgery went well, but there were complications. He’s been in a drug-induced coma.”

Natasha sucked in her breath. “Oh no!”

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