Page 46 of Sold to the Silver Foxes

I huff a bitter laugh, too surprised to stop myself. The frost in my lungs tightens, but she deserves some answers. The girl’s been through hell. And maybe I deserve to talk to someone about it. “I had a cardiac event. Six months ago,” I say, leaning back against the paneled wall. “It coincided with the dissolution of a relationship.”

She knits her brow—not fishing for gossip, just concerned. “Dissolution, like…mutually, or?—”

“She ended it,” I murmur, lips twisting. “And left me the hospital bill as a souvenir.”

Tabitha’s hand floats, then settles on my forearm—warm despite the corridor’s chill. “I’m sorry. That sounds…awful.”

“I prefer to think of it as educational.” I keep my tone neutral, but the ghost grips tighter.

Her thumb strokes a silent apology across my sleeve. “No wonder you’re so cautious.”

Cautious. Diplomatic word for terrified.

We stand like that, quiet. The lamplight halos her hair, and I catalog the contrasts. She’s strong enough to auction her body for her sister, yet gentle enough to worry about the heart ofa man she’s only just learning. Altruism and bravery and a softness that invites confession. It’s a wonder she hasn’t become jaded yet.

The innocence of youth.

She takes a breath. “About Pietro’s threat…”

A different tension coils. “I have it contained. Neither you nor the company will suffer.”

“I’m not worried about me,” she says. “I’m worried about you three losing your family’s business.”

Somehow, that hits harder than any personal concern. I swallow. “You don’t need to carry that weight.”

She shrugs one slim shoulder. “I carry Erin’s. I can carry some of yours too.”

I’m beginning to understand the depth of real trouble—when a woman’s goodness threatens to thaw walls I thought were permafrost. I built those walls to protect myself, and I have no intention of tearing them down.

I clear my throat. “Why were you wandering at this hour?”

Her cheeks color. “I was coming to ask if I could borrow one of the cars this afternoon. I haven’t seen Erin in person since…everything. I’d like to surprise her before surgery prep.”

“Absolutely not.” The words leave too forcefully. Her eyes widen. I lift a hand. “I mean, no to you driving yourself.” I soften my stance, lower my voice. “I’d prefer to take you.”

“You’d drive me?”

“Of course.” The decision snaps into place before I have the chance to overanalyze it. “Consider it…senior management oversight.”

Her expression wavers between relief and nervousness. “Your first impression of Grandma Judy may involve flour on her sweater and a stern scowl. She’s very protective of us.”

“I’ve survived worse. Our cousin Alessio’s cigar breath, for instance.”

The corner of her mouth lifts and falls. “I may need to…massage the truth, when it comes to how we know each other.”

“We’ll craft a narrative.” I offer a small, reassuring nod. “Dance consultant for our brand, remember?”

She releases a shaky laugh. “Right.”

“You’ve already laid the brilliant groundwork. All I have to do is not screw that up.”

“Kind of like when you helped me with the wine thing?”

“Precisely. To be at the top of my game, I require coffee. Would you like?—”

“Yes, please.” She follows me to the east first-floor kitchen and lets out a low whistle. “That is quite the setup.”

“What’s that?” I warm up the espresso machine.

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