Page 16 of Over the Edge

Not this.

“And in this scenario, you’d be what, exactly?”

Flynn didn’t smile. “I’ll be the thing he wants to take from you.”

CHAPTER5

LYRIC

“The thinghe wants to take from you.”

The words bounced around in my head all morning. I couldn’t say what about them bothered me so much, but they sent a chill through me when Flynn spoke them, and the unease only grew as I stepped onto the terrace of the private beach club.

I was in Moreau’s territory.

Flynn walked beside me, loose-limbed and at ease, a man who had nothing to prove. I kept my stride measured, my expression cool beneath the shade of my wide-brimmed hat. Elisa Deveraux walked like she owned the world, and today, I had to make Moreau believe it.

We were led to a low table set beneath the shade of a pergola, the Mediterranean stretching endlessly behind it. The space was intimate by design, meant to make his guests feel both privileged and trapped.

Moreau wasn’t there yet. It was another power play, making sure we knew his time was more valuable than ours. I settled into the cushioned chair and studied the postcard-perfect view as a server poured champagne into delicate flutes.

Flynn sat beside me, his arm resting along the back of my chair, his body angled toward mine. Protective. Possessive. The role came naturally to him, and that irritated me more than it should have.

“Relax, princess,” he murmured next to my ear. “You look like you’re about to snap someone’s neck. We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.”

I forced my shoulders to soften, letting Elisa’s performative boredom settle over my features as I reached for my glass. “I’m perfectly relaxed.”

“Your jaw says otherwise.”

Before I could respond, footsteps approached across the marble terrace. I didn’t turn—Elisa wouldn’t be eager—but I felt Flynn’s subtle shift beside me, his body coiling.

Moreau had arrived.

Dressed in tailored linen, he moved toward us with the casual confidence of a predator who didn’t need to rush.

“Ah, Elisa,” he greeted smoothly, reaching for my hand and lifting it to his lips. The kiss lingered uncomfortably long. A test to see if I’d flinch.

I didn’t.

I let him hold my hand, my fingers neither tightening nor retreating. Indifference was its own kind of power.

Moreau’s gaze flicked to Flynn as he lowered my hand. “And you brought Mr. Mercer.”

“I rarely go anywhere without him.” I trailed my nails down Flynn’s forearm—and, yes, I was secretly thrilled to see the goosebumps my touch raised on his skin.

So Mr. Charming was just as affected by me as I was by him. Good to know.

I sent him an indulgent smile. “He has his uses.”

Flynn’s gaze heated as his fingers brushed the nape of my neck beneath my hair. Electricity zipped down my spine, and my nipples tightened against the soft fabric of my jumpsuit.

Oh, shit.

We were playing a dangerous game, and Moreau was watching it all, clocking every reaction.

“Well.” Moreau’s smile froze as he settled into the chair across from us. “This is a change from yesterday.”

“Yes,” I said, injecting a bit of breathlessness into my laugh. “I wasn’t happy with him yesterday. He can be… possessive. It’s annoying, but we worked it out.”

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