Not my money. Not my power.
Justme.
“I’m so glad to hear that,” Lily says and I shove the sappy shit aside for the moment. I need to get Jean-Michel out of here–yes, he’s done me a solid by letting me have the space tonight, by coordinating all the surprises I have for Lily…but those surprises can’t happen with him hanging around, that piercing blue stare seeming to see right through me.
Seeing how much this night, this woman means to me.
Except…fuck it, he doesn’t seem to care that I know how important Tiff is to him–likely because it took all of two seconds to put those pieces together–so I’m not going to care either.
Lily matters.
Lily’s mine.
But I still need to get them out of here.
Like ten minutes ago.
A thought Jean-Michel clearly picks up on because his mouth quirks, so when Lily and Tiff pause in chatting–music has transitioned to travel…and after Tiff has accepted tickets for a show in Paris (apparently her favorite place in the world), he kisses the top of her head. “I really should head to that meeting with Brooks and Jace,” he says.
Her expression is adorably befuddled. “I thought you rescheduled?—”
He bends, kisses her lightly. “No, buttercup. I didn’t.” A pointed glance in our direction. “So we should really head out.”
The befuddlement fades and the pink cheeks come back.
But only for a second.
Then there’s humor and mischief and just a sliver of confident plotting. “We’ll have to have dinner soon,” she says.
“Definitely,” Lily agrees.
“Lovely”—she loops her arm through Jean-Michel’s and start hauling him toward a sleek black Range Rover parkednearby—“we’ll let our control freak partners arrange the date, time, and location.”
Lily bursts out laughing.
Tiff keeps hauling Jean-Michel forward.
“Oh, Lily?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d start in the atrium,” she calls and Jean-Michel helps her into the car. “It really is beautiful.”
I bite back a smile, see that Jean-Michel is doing the same as he closes her door and lifts a hand in farewell.
We watch as they drive off.
Then Lily turns in my arms, her red lips curved up in a smile. “Should we start in the atrium?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
We walk down the winding path, the Mediterranean buildings effortlessly blended into the landscape, the sounds of the wind rustling through the vines the softest murmur, the twinkle lights woven through fucking romantic, even to me.
But the atrium is even more beautiful.
The glass-domed room would be gorgeous even if it was empty.
But it’s not empty.