Page 24 of Savage Prince

“Optimism is good.”

“It is. It’s just weird. For you.”

“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “You don’t get to do that. If you’re not going to answer my questions about my past, you don’t get to drop sneaky little clues anytime you feel like it. It’s all or nothing. Those are the rules.”

“So, you don’t want to hear that bossiness is totally on brand for Juliet Zion?” he teases, the sparkle in his silver eyes making me wish we had time to relax, flirt, and get to know each other again.

I like flirting with Ford. And sleeping snuggled against his delicious-smelling chest last night is on my list of Top Ten Best Life Experiences so far.

But until proven otherwise, we’re on a mission to save our friends.

The hope that we might be able to call off this rescue makes me even more eager to head upstairs. If Layla and everyone else at Lost Moon are actually okay, maybe Ford and I can hang out in Montreal for a few days and just…be together. I can tell he doesn’t know quite how to feel about the new me, but I’m positive that if he gives me a chance, we can find our way back to each other. I feel such a deep connection to him. I can’t imagine a future where we aren’t on the same team.

And hopefully sharing the same bed…

I fully understand that lusting over him while fleeing people who want us dead is probably crazy, but I can’t help it. The more time I spend with him, the more positive I am that we belong together, that we’re the kind of thing that’s written in the stars.

“I don’t have to hear that bossy is on brand,” I tease back. “I can feel it in my bones. I was born to boss you around.”

He laughs. “Pint-sized tyrant.”

“Better believe it,” I say, wishing I could lean across the table and kiss that smirk off his face. “Let’s go. The suspense is killing me.”

He stands, tossing his coffee in a trash can in the corner before moving toward the elevator. I join him, looping my arm through his as we wait for the car to arrive.

I beam up at him as I murmur, “I’m going to pretend like we’re newlyweds and I’m so smitten with you that I can’t look anywhere else. Good way to avoid looking suspicious, right?”

He beams back at me, bending to brush the tip of his nose against mine as he murmurs, “Absolutely. People will be so grossed out by our PDA, they’ll avert their eyes and we’ll move about completely unmolested.”

I tip my chin up, pulse spiking as my lips move close enough to his for his sugar and cream coffee breath to warm my mouth. “Oh no, I think I might like a little molesting. As long as you’re the one doing it.”

“Bad girl,” he says, wrapping his arm around my waist and hugging me close to his incredible body.

“And proud of it,” I whisper, wrinkling my nose as the elevator doors ding open. “To be continued.”

He moves into the car, pressing the button for the second floor. “Hopefully we’ll have the business center to ourselves. These aren’t the kind of calls we want being overheard.”

“Fingers crossed,” I say, barely resisting the urge to twine my arms around his neck. But we’re not in public anymore and I don’t have a good excuse to have my hands all over him.

We exit the car on the second floor and follow the signs to the business center. There’s a keycard sensor on the door, but luckily a man with a cell phone pressed to his ear is exiting with a pile of papers just as we’re heading in.

He holds the door for us, flashing a tight smile as he tells the person on the other end of the line, “Yes, I was able to print out the contract. I’m taking it up to my room to sign and scan into the Dropbox folder now.”

“Business, business, business,” Ford mumbles beneath his breath as the man leaves and we head over to the farthest computer. There are four in the room, as well as a printer, a water cooler with tiny paper cups on top, and a bowl full of apples on the table beside it.

I snag an apple and hover beside Ford’s chair as he accesses the internet and opens a private browser. He creates a new email address, claims an internet phone number with an area code based in San Diego, California, and by the time I toss my apple core in the trash we’re ready to call Lost Moon.

Ford glances over his shoulder at the empty hallway outside the glass door. “All right. This is it. If someone comes in, distract them, and I’ll end the call as quickly as I can.”

I nod, rubbing my palms together, like a faith healer about to lay hands on an ailing parishioner and spirit him back to full health.

I want to believe in miracles. I want to believe that our friends and the good people at Lost Moon rose up and overpowered the bad guys. Or maybe even that some of the bad guys realized what they were doing was wrong and changed their minds about aiding and abetting a coup.

Maybe some of Ford’s friends saw what went down in the ocean and turned on Beck, realizing that if Beck could plan to murder an Alpha wolf, he’d pretended to take under his wing that none of them were safe.

But even before call after call is sent straight to voicemail, my gut knows better. My stomach is a lead weight dragging at my core, making sure my feet stay firmly on solid ground.

“That was Natalie’s,” Ford says soberly, ending the call. “And I’ve already tried Layla, Catherine, and Alexander.”

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