Page 39 of His Untouchable Heart

I rolled my eyes. “Damian isn’t the guy for her unless she wants bottle service, international parties, and maybe never hear from him again after date three.”

Juliette shrugged, licking her lips with an exaggerated slowness. “You never know.”

I groaned. “I do. Idefinitelydo.”

Anthony chuckled, and Juliette winked at me like the world was still ours for the taking.

For a moment, I let myself believe she might be right.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Anthony

The city shimmered behind the marina like it was trying to outshine its own reflection. The buildings along the Coconut Grove skyline had begun to glow in layers—orange-tinted windows, soft rooftop lights, and a few flickers of neon far in the distance. Across the deck, the water lapped against the hull of the yacht with the kind of rhythm that made you believe, even if only for a second, that everything was calm.

Gabrielle leaned into me, her head resting lightly against my shoulder, her knees curled up between us on the lounger. The stem of her wineglass dangled from her fingers, still almost full. Mine was empty. I didn’t remember finishing it, only that she’d passed hers to me after two sips, murmuring something about not feeling like drinking tonight.

I hadn’t pressed. Not yet.

The breeze off the bay had cooled since sundown, lifting the hem of Gabrielle’s sundress and drawing goosebumps across her bare arms. I pulled the throw blanket higher around her legs and wrapped my arm more tightly around her.

Juliette sat across from us on the smaller settee, arms crossed and a pointed look on her face.

“This is so unfair,” she groaned, teeth chattering just enough to be dramatic. “You’ve got someone to keep you warm, and I’ve got... windburn.”

Gabrielle snorted softly against my chest, and I felt the vibration of it, a low hum that settled somewhere beneath my ribs.

“You could’ve brought a sweater,” I offered.

Juliette raised her brows. “I was lured here with promises of wine, fresh shrimp, and zero judgment.”

“Two out of three,” Gabrielle said, her voice light and tired, “is still above average.”

We all laughed, even if it was quiet. The kind of laugh that belonged to people who were holding onto normal for as long as they could.

I kissed Gabrielle’s temple, just a brush of my lips against her hairline, and felt her settle deeper into me. Her body was warm, but her fingers around the wineglass were cold. I wanted to ask if she was okay, but something told me she’d say yes even if she wasn’t.

So, I let it go—for now.

The world had given us this one soft hour. I wasn’t going to be the one to shatter it.

The laughter faded the way warmth does when the sun slips behind the skyline—slow, almost imperceptible, until you realize you’re cold.

Juliette pulled the blanket tighter around herself, shifting in her seat. Gabrielle eased upright just slightly, enough for me to feel her spine press gently into my side. Her body was still tucked into mine, but her mind had already moved on.

I felt it, too.

“We can’t stay off-grid forever,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Damian’s yacht buys us time, not anonymity.”

Juliette gave me a sidelong look. “How long do you think before he figures it out?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. But if he’s already been near your apartment, he’s watching something. Or someone.”

Gabrielle’s wineglass now sat untouched on the deck side table. Her fingers played with the corner of the blanket. Her eyes were focused somewhere past the marina lights. “What if he reaches out with the painting?” she asked. “Says he wants to show it to me—or worse, locks it in a vault at the museum or starts shopping it around before we can verify anything?”

Juliette let out a soft curse under her breath.

“That’s one scenario,” I said. “Another is Louisa backing out. She’s already nervous.”

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