Page 110 of The Confidant

“Your friend seemed to know him,” Joseph raises a brow as if he suspects she’s lying. Before I can bristle up, Tera leans forward with obvious eagerness.

“Which one?” She demands with narrowed eyes.

“The redhead that whines,” he replies with a grimace. “And her brother.”

Tera puffs up with narrowed eyes. “She’s a strawberry blonde, and she just wants to be coddled a little. Don’t be judgy.”

“She’s going to be a great Maman,” Suzette mutters with a weak smile.

“Thank you.” Tera gives her a mutinous glare, raising her chin. “But I think I like being calledMombetter.”

The dig isn’t subtle. Her passive aggression is in full swing, and I’m here for it.

She ruins her firm disposition in seconds with a muttered apology to me about insulting my Maman and bounces out of her chair to hurry toward the door.

“Slow down,” Max pipes up in panic.

“Hurry up,” she bites back. “We have some investigating to do!”

I grin and get to my feet to follow her.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Adelaide

The expo for SoT is a hit. There’s a great turnout.

I both love and hate that.

I’m wondering how many of these people know me through the internet. Every glance is a question of whether or not they know my history and have judged me already.

Half the people here eye me the same way. It’s comforting to know I’m not alone in the thought.

While I’m uncomfortable as hell on the inside, I’m smiling on the outside.

No one recognizes Poe. It surprises me for some reason. He built this from the ground up, and barely anyone knows who he is. He doesn’t introduce himself or make small talk. He nods, answers any questions brave people approach him to ask, and sends them on their way without fuss. All while holding Racer under one arm and me with the other.

Damon’s booth for cover-ups is going well. He needs a little help with the number of people lining up, which makes me regret not having the ability to jump in there. My spirit may be willing, but all my tools are gone.

“That could be you,” Poe mutters in my ear. The warm puff of air makes me shiver, my smile getting wider.

“Yeah, it could.” I turn my head to bump his nose with mine.

His eyes widen a little in surprise. This is the first time I’ve talked about tattoos without sounding like I’ve had the wind taken out of me. It seems minor, but it’s a big step for me.

“Mr. Richards,” a cold voice calls behind us.

I recognize it from a few nights ago at the fancy restaurant. I try my best not to think of anything else from that night.

I spin out from under Poe’s arm with an exaggerated smile that’s obviously fake. Gabriel Jefferson has several men with him of varying heights and statures, including his two obvious bodyguards and a redheaded woman who looks ready to chew metal and spit out nails. She looks around at everyone passing by with a sense of tension that’s a little concerning. She’s vibrating withtry me assholeenergy.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Snowman himself,” I gush and clasp my hands under my chin to play up the fake hero worship.

The flat expression he gives me makes me cackle as my fake attitude drops.

“You have to relax,ami. Too much tension isn’t a good thing around here.” I give a subtle look around to draw attention to the people outside their rather large circle. The open gap of space between them and outsiders is obvious and awkward. A single woman walking in this direction sees the well-built men, pales in obvious fear, and immediately turns the other way to avoid them.

“Spread out a bit, let her breathe,” I gesture to a red-haired man and his blonde friend. The grumpy woman is squished between them like they’re holding her prisoner. They look at each other in confusion.

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