Page 102 of Our Radiant Embers

‘7,’ he replied within seconds. ‘Private room at sketch. It’s close to my flat if you want to stay over after.’

Christ, my family would give me so much shit for seeing Adam twice in a day—might as well embrace it and stay the night, too. ‘Will you make it worth my while?’ I finished the question with a wink.

‘Every second,’ he wrote back, and, oh. Found my note, had he?

‘I have no doubt.’

A smiley, followed by, ‘Also, I’ve got a couple of books that might interest you.’

Books—on the French magical community? Must be. The idea of creeping closer to an answer buzzed in my fingertips.

‘Is that an invitation to admire your etchings?’ I shot back.

‘More like an all-access pass to an immersive experience.’

I could just imagine him typing those words with a tiny smile tugging at his mouth, and the thought made me smile, too. ‘I’m intrigued.’

‘So you’ll come?’

Like I even still knew how to say no to him.

’Wouldn’t miss it,’ I wrote back, then chose an indie coffeehouse playlist while my siblings were otherwise occupied. Their immediate and vocal protest drowned out the sizzling anticipation that hummed through me, and I gladly sank into an argument about what Jack called artisanal beard oil music while Laurie likened it to a desperate cry for CPR with a banjo.

Some parts of my life hadn’t changed at all.

* * *

“I’m glad you came.” It was a low, sweet murmur in my ear as Adam gave me a hug that ended far too quickly. I stepped back just like I was meant to.

A tiny woman with a huge smile and pink nails took my place, her hands on Adam’s shoulders. He smiled back, every inch the wealthy heir in his well-tailored charcoal blazer and fitted trousers, a button-down shirt with a subtle floral pattern adding a touch of personality. I looked away and found Cassandra watching me from across the room. One of her perfectly plucked eyebrows arched in what I read as an invitation to join her.

Right. I should have expected Adam’s best friend to take a dedicated interest.

Since one did not keep Cassandra Hartley waiting, I ducked around Gale and some quiffed bloke to make my way over. The private room was a tight fit for ten people—Adam and Gale, Cassandra, a dark-haired, dark-eyed guy I presumed to be her secret boyfriend Amit, me, and five other people whose names I had yet to learn. Rich velvet curtains, plush seating, and a red-and-silver theme surrounded us, the carpet an eclectic pattern of yellows and oranges.

“Enjoying a taste of the high-society circus?” was Cassandra’s opening line.

“Oh, it’s a riot.” I adjusted the uncomfortably tight collar of my dress shirt, expensive by my standards yet not by those of everyone else in this room. Through the walls, I sensed steam rising from a pot of boiling water in the restaurant kitchen—I blinked the distraction away. “How’s the masquerade on your end?”

The left side of her mouth hitched up in faint amusement. “Fabulous. I should get an Oscar.”

For a moment, we assessed each other. With her light blonde hair, tastefully subtle make-up, and bespoke jumpsuit, she belonged in a way I didn’t.

“All right, let’s get real.” She rested a friendly hand on my arm, her pleasant expression at odds with the sharp undertone to her words. “You’re not just messing around, are you?”

I gave her my toothiest grin. “Wow.”

A questioning quirk of lips was the extent of her reaction. Some people called her Ice Queen, although never to her face. Based on what Adam had told me, I suspected they were way off.

“I’ve never been on the receiving end of a you-hurt-him-I-hurt-you speech.” My voice was low to ensure that no one could overhear us. “That’s what this is, right?”

“Got it in one.” A hint of respect showed in her eyes. “So?”

“First off, I know you can and will.” I fell silent, briefly catching Adam’s eyes as I accepted a champagne glass from a waiter who made the rounds. “And secondly, no. I am not messing around.”

“Excellent,” she said, elegantly clasping the stem of her own glass. “Keep it that way.”

Hmm.

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