Page 33 of City of Love

I guess I’m just hesitating because I’ve never seen his response in person. I settle for the truth, just glossed over.

“Just a text from Marcus,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “It’s nothing. Are we almost there?”

Noel looks over at me, eyebrows raised, and although his face is impassive I see a new tension in his jaw. He holds out one hand for my phone.

I stare at his hand for a second before giving a snort of laughter. “It’s nothing to worry about,” I say, shaking my head.

“Please,” he says.

I sigh. “Are you going to overreact? Because you seem like the kind of guy who might. And that will just make me feel worse.”

I realize as soon as I say this that I’ve just admitted the text made me feel bad, but thankfully Noel doesn’t draw attention to it. He just says,

“I won’t overreact.” He pauses before saying grudgingly, “And you don’t have to show me. Just—if you want to.”

I grin despite the squirm of sickness still writhing inside me. “That was really hard for you, wasn’t it? Backing off?”

“Yes,” he says, his jaw flexing.

“Here,” I say, passing him my phone. He gives a sigh of relief as he takes it from me.

“Passcode?” he says.

“5683,” I say. My cheeks flushing slightly, I add, “It’s ‘love’ spelled out on the number pad.”

Noel grins. “Such a romantic.”

I sigh. “It’s true,” I say, and I’m not lying. I am a romantic all the way. But any fuzzy feelings I might have disappear as I watch Noel read Marcus’s text.

His jaw flexes, his arm tightening where it’s looped around mine. He looks briefly as though he’s grinding his teeth. He just stares at the phone for a second, and then, without a word, hands it back to me.

I put it in my purse, watching Noel the whole time. I can’t quite tell if he’s going to stay quiet or if he’s going to say something; he looks angry, but he also claimed he wouldn’t overreact.

His voice, when he speaks, is low and dangerous. “I think I should run him over with a car.”

I nod, my lips quirking. “That sounds like one idea. Maybe we could brainstorm some other ideas, though? Just in case we want to avoid breaking the law.”

“And what’s this crap about wearing red? Why is he calling you sexy?” Noel says, his eyes flashing.

“Red does look great on me,” I say. “And I am sort of sexy.”

“You absolutely are, buthedoesn’t get to call you that,” Noel says through clenched teeth. “Those words aren’t his to say. And why are you being so blasé about this?”

I sigh, choosing to ignore the fact that he just called me sexy. “I’m used to way worse from Marcus. Plus it’s easier for me to be calm about it when you’re flipping out,” I admit. “Calming people down helpsmecalm down. ”

Noel frowns over at me. “That doesn’t make sense,” he says.

I shrug. “I think it does. Either way, it doesn’t matter. You and I will stick together tomorrow, assuming we see Marcus then. You can just glare at him. Maybe use that scary glower you do. He’ll stay away.”

While I admit I’m putting on abitof a front, I do genuinely believe that having Noel with me will deter Marcus from causing trouble.

Noel just mutters under his breath in French for a minute before falling silent. When we reach Dubail, he looks around shiftily—he’s beingsosketchy about this—before opening the door and allowing me to enter.

The second I get inside, I can’t help but think that this is the kind of place people buy crazy expensive wedding rings. The kind that look like they weigh a ton, with like a billion diamonds. There are chandeliers overhead and glass display cases set into the walls. It’s beautiful, really.

I look around for a second before spotting a waiting area, so I give Noel a little nudge and gesture toward the leather seats. He nods, looking relieved, and strangely I can feel his eyes on me as I walk away. I force myself not to turn around and stare at him; if he wanted me to know what he was buying, he would have just let me come with him. So I just relax a bit, relishing the feeling of being off my feet. I look around, taking everything in; even the floors and ceilings look fancy.

I’ve been sitting in the chair—which is cold and sort of squeaky on account of the leather—for about fifteen minutes when a man sits in the seat next to me. I shift uncomfortably, leaning away from him a little without being obvious about it.

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