Page 66 of Sold to the Silver Foxes

He leans even closer to her, his hand on her arm like she belongs to him. “You’ll find I am more generous than your current johns?—”

That’s it. I come out of hiding, ready to stomp his ass into the ground.

Tabitha’s laugh echoes down the hall, and I freeze. It’s a mocking, feminine laugh. If it were aimed at me, I’d feel twelve inches all. “Henri, surely you jest. Talking to me like I’m a sex worker?—”

“You’re a whore. The Moretti brothers paid to fuck you. We all know it.”

She stands up—I hear the creaking of the bench beneath her and see the edge of her form from here. She gracefully removes his hand from her arm, then kisses his knuckles. “Oh, you poor dear man. Henri, for the record, I’m not a sex worker, and even if I were, you couldn’t afford me.”

“You don’t know what I can afford?—”

“And it seems to me that you’re a bit confused, and while I know that’s normal for someone of yourveryadvanced age, I think you should get checked out by a doctor.”

“I beg your pardon!” he snaps.

“Well, you run a decent-sized clothing company—nothing compared to the Morettis, of course, but still, you seem proud of it—and I’d hate for investors to lose faith in you, if it were to get out that you’re starting to slip, but I’d love to be the one to tell them.”

He goes pale and silent.

“Moreover, I’m sure your wife would want you to take care of your health. That is, until she learns you’re propositioning other women. Of course, she doesn’t have to learn that at all, nor do your investors need to learn about your slipping mental state, provided you keep your hands to yourself and you stop harassing women.”

He clears his throat. “Must have been mistaken—pardon.” He almost bows and scuttles away, nearly colliding with a waiter.

Tabitha exhales, lifts her champagne, takes a measured sip as if nothing rippled the evening. She straightens her posture and rejoins Lady Markham’s group, seamlessly re-immersed in talk of London Ballet refurbishments.

Only then do I release my breath. I have never been so aroused in my life.

I wait for a break in her conversation, then approach Tabitha discreetly. The way her pretty face lights up when we make eye contact is enough to set me on fire. But that will have to wait.

For now, I merely want to check in. “Everything all right?”

“Spilled champagne on my heel.” She smiles, carefree as ever. “Nothing a little water won’t wash out.”

I offer a subtle nod. It’s impossible to know what’s going on in her mind until I catch the minuscule glance over my shoulder at Henri. She’s keeping an eye on him. I’ll keep doing the same.

Dinner ends with handshake signatures on two preliminary term sheets. Sir John invites Sal to go fly-fishing in Scotland. Laroche promises front-page placement in Lafayette’s spring windows. Everyone else appears to have had a good time.

When guests depart beneath a colonnade of lanterns, Sal whispers to me, “That went shockingly smooth.”

“Almost,” I reply. He raises an eyebrow. I shake my head—later.

Half an hour later, I find Tabitha in the conservatory, extinguishing votive candles. Her back is to me, but she says, “Ihope Henri sends his wife flowers tomorrow. He looked guilty enough to buy a florist.”

I close the door behind me and lock it. “Thank you.”

She blows out a candle, leaving the scent of beeswax and peonies. “For what?”

“For proving I worried over nothing. And for defending yourself with such ruthless grace.” I step closer. “I almost intervened?—”

“I know.” She turns, flame reflections dancing in her eyes. “But you held back.”

“I needed to know—” The words snag on guilt, but I push them out. “Know if your feelings for us are real. If money could still sway you.”

Her jaw firms. “You run risk assessments on everything. Including me.”

“I’m not proud of it?—”

She sets the snuffer down, approaches, and cups my face, thumbs brushing the hinge of my jaw. “Nico, people’s hearts aren’t auditable. They’re living ledgers—values that appreciate when invested in, depreciate when neglected.” She huffs a laugh. “Listen to me sounding like you.”

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