Page 24 of The Sentinel

I sighed, linking my arm through his as we walked toward my rental car. I’d finally caved and rented one—looked like I’d be here a while, and relying on Ubers for everything was getting old fast.

“Buckle up,” I muttered. “It’s a lot.”

By the time we made it back to The Palmetto Rose, Diego was fully briefed, and his mood had shifted from playful to something sharper.

That was, until we stepped inside the hotel.

Diego came to a full stop in the lobby as he took in the grand chandeliers, the polished marble floors, and the wrought-iron balconies overlooking the courtyard. “Okay,” he said, nodding approvingly. “I take back what I said about the South. If this is what it’s serving, I’m intrigued.”

I smirked. “Charleston growing on you already?”

He scoffed, dramatically adjusting the cuff of his linen blazer. “Let’s not get carried away. I’m still personally offended by the humidity and the complete lack of a decent espresso bar within walking distance. But this—” he gestured around, “—this I can work with.”

I shook my head, dragging him toward the elevator. “Your suite’s down the hall from mine. Don’t get too comfortable.”

“Oh, I fully intend to get comfortable,” he said as the elevator doors slid open. “A king-sized bed? A clawfoot tub? Southern hospitality that includes someone calling me ‘sugar’ before noon? Claire, I may never leave.”

I rolled my eyes, stepping inside with him. “Just try not to fall in love with the place before we get out of here.”

He sighed, dramatically placing a hand over his chest. “Impossible. I already feel like I belong in some steamy Southern gothic drama where I spend my days sipping mint juleps and solving rich people’s scandals.”

I side-eyed him. “That’s literally what we’re doing.”

“So let me get this straight,”he said later, sprawling across the tufted chaise lounge in my suite. “The Dane brothers basically run this town like somekind of sexy Southern mafia, the sheriff is firmly in their pocket, you’re chasing a lead on a secret organization that may or may not exist, and Marcus Dane is flirting with you like he wants to devour you whole.” He removed his sunglasses dramatically. “Do you hear yourself?”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “I know how it sounds, but it’s real. All of it.”

“Oh, I believe you.” His lips formed a slow, knowing smirk. “But let’s focus on the most pressing matter—Marcus fucking Dane.”

I exhaled sharply. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Oh, we are,” he said, sitting up and fixing me with thatdon’t bullshit mestare. “You let him kiss you?”

I crossed my arms. “I didn’t let him do anything.”

He snorted. “Uh-huh. And yet, he did. And you—” he pointed at me, “—are currently blushing like a virgin heroine in a smutty novel. Which you are not.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you love me. And you’re into him.”

“I’m not.”

He raised a perfectly groomed brow. “Claire.”

I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but nothing came out. Because the truth was, Ihadlet Marcus kiss me. And not just that—I had kissed him back. And I had spent half the night replaying it in my head, wondering what would’ve happened if we hadn’t been interrupted.

Diego grinned like he could see right through me. “God, I cannot wait for this ball.”

I sighed, flopping onto the bed. “You realize we’re actually investigating a potentially dangerous conspiracy, right?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, Department 77 and all that. We’ll dig, we’ll investigate, we’ll be ourusual brilliant selves. But we’re also going to make your very dangerous man incredibly jealous.”

I groaned. “He’s not my man.”

Diego smirked. “Tell that to his possessive ass when he sees me on your arm.”

Diego could say things like that because, quite frankly, he could pull it off. He was the kind of man people noticed—tall, effortlessly put together, with sharp cheekbones and warm brown skin that hinted at his Spanish heritage. His dark hair was always perfectly styled, and his wardrobe—no matter the occasion—looked straight off a runway. He had charm in spades, could talk his way into (and out of) anything, and had the kind of easy confidence that made people assume things about us when we were together.

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