Chapter 22

Rory

The knock on my door has me glancing up, seeing that Jean-Michel is standing in the doorway.

"Getting an early start," he says, gaze searching mine.

I tap at the keyboard, saving my work, then push the tray in. "I have a lot to catch up on."

His gaze flicks down to my hand then back up to my eyes, something flaring there that sends a shiver down my spine.

It's deadly.

That look is…deadly.

"Apparently"—those eyes flick down and back up again—"so do I."

I still, stomach twisting and confusion spinning through my mind. Then my own eyes drift down to my hand and?—

The ring.

Shit.

"King's been busy."

Three deadly words.

"It's not what you think," I blurt immediately, folding like a cheap suitcase.

He steps into the room, closes the door behind him. "What do I think?"

"It's only to get his mom off his back with the matchmaking for a little while," I say. "We came to an agreement. He helped me with Phillip, so to get his mom to lay off the blind dates, I'm providing…an anti-dating service?" The last is said like a question, even though it isn't one.

To my surprise, Jean-Michel doesn't explode, doesn't scold me for being stupid and faking an engagement that is pulling the wool over a perfectly nice woman's eyes, for lying to her when she doesn't deserve that.

His head cocks to the side, stare fixed on mine. "That's why you're staying there?"

I blink.

"Why you're staying at King's house?" He lifts his brows. "The fake engagement."

Right.

I don't admit the fake engagement is a recent development, that the reason I've continued to stay with King after those first few days is a weird combination of not wanting to inconvenience Jean-Michel or Chrissy or Rome and…wanting to soak up more of King, more of the way he makes me feel.

Especially because he's nothing like what I thought.

I nod so abruptly that I probably resemble one of those bobbleheads that the team gives away on random fan nights. "Yeah," I say quickly. "That's why."

"Hmm," he mutters, crossing his arms and leaning back against the doorway. "And I'm guessing that's why one Mama Bang is currently in the lobby with a huge tray of brownies for you and the rest of the staff?"

My throat convulses. "I'm sorry what?" I manage to squeak out.

"Where's my future daughter-in-law?" I hear echoed down the hall.

Shit.

"Please don't—" I begin, but Jean-Michel shocks me by moving to my side, squeezing my shoulder lightly.

He bends down, stares deeply into my eyes, expression gentle. "All I've ever wanted is for you and Chrissy to be safe and happy."

My heart squeezes.

Because Chrissy had been through so much.

"You don't have to worry about me," I whisper. "I'm fine."

He exhales, tugs a lock of my hair. "I know," he says. "You and my girl are always fine. Been through hellfire and back and you're fine." He shakes his head, pats my shoulder then mimes zipping and locking his lips. "For what it's worth, I'm a vault."

Relief floods me.

That's worth a lot, a whole freaking lot.

"Thank you," I tell him. "It's just for a little while and?—"

Something dances across his face that has my brows dragging together.

"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head, turns for the door, but I swear that he's gone from deadly to smiling and that…well, that doesn't make any sense. "I'll go get your future mother-in-law."

I open my mouth to correct him, but I don't get the chance because he's opening the door, moving out into the hall.

He doesn't get far, pausing just over the threshold, extending a hand. "Stella, I'm Jean-Michel. Your future daughter-in-law's"—a look in my direction and I watch Stella move into the open doorway—"boss."

"And my son's," she says with a laugh. She lifts the tray in her hands. "Brownie?"

He smiles indulgently—something I only get to see from the hardened businessman because he points it in my direction—then takes one of the brownies from the tray. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

And then Stella's bustling into my office, offering me my own brownie—which is far too delicious for my waistline—and plunking herself in my desk chair. "So, why didn't you come home last night?"

I end up driving Stella to the airport, eating far too many brownies, and finding myself all that much more charmed by her.

Thankfully, she bought my excuse of needing to help with the rescue. Something that isn't exactly a lie—there's always work to do there—but something that was less than the truth the night before.

I needed to run.

My bracelet.

From my dad.

This is why I shouldn't have worn it.

Because I always ruin the good things.

And I did again.

The song in the air, the beautiful feel of King holding me, him slipping that ring on my finger and how all of it—all of it—felt right.

Only for the moment to be shattered.

Because, for one second, for a heartbeat in time, I wanted it to be real.

Would have begged the universe for the chance.

It reminded me quickly enough.

Because that's not for me.

It wasn't Phillip handing me a ring and all but ordering us to get married. It wasn't me compromising what I wanted because Phillip's family and keeping up appearance were more important than what I wanted.

It was…a fantasy, a perfect moment in time and space.

And then it was done.

"Stupid," I whisper, sending Zeus's ears pricking from where he's sitting next to me on King's couch, my computer in my lap, my glass of wine on the side table next to me. "Fucking stupid."

Because I'm sitting on King's couch, in his house.

Because I'm here instead of Chrissy's after I drove his mom to the airport.

There's no reason to be here.

Except for Zeus.

Except…I could have brought him to Chrissy's. He would have loved to spend time with his sister, Athena, whom she and Rome adopted.

But I hadn't.

Instead, I dropped Stella, promised to see her in a few weeks, and drove back to King's place.

To pack up my stuff and leave. I'd carry on the charade when Stella visited, but for now, I needed space.

Until I saw the note and a bottle of wine from Oak Ridge on the counter.

My favorite wine from my place of employment.

And then there was the gift certificate to a local spa pinned beneath it.

And the apology note was signed by Zeus—or with his paw print, anyway.

So…I didn't leave.

I couldn't.

For better or worse, I gave into what I wanted, stopped thinking, and just…

Stayed.

But I know that it's going to come back to bite me.