Page 83 of Rules, Roses, and Rivals
“Thanks,” I said, my voice a little raw. I started moving before I could overthink it. Rachel caught up with me halfway to the back steps.
“Game plan?” she asked.
“Find them before Jake does something he can’t come back from,” I said. “Beforeanyof them do.”
“If the damage is already done?”
“Then I make sure they know who really started the fire.”
Rachel grinned again, but this one was different. More steel. More sisterhood.
“Let’s go crash a testosterone summit.”
The second we stepped through the sliding glass door into the house, the noise dropped by half. The party muffled behind glass, the air cooler and scented with cedar and citrus. Archie’s place always smelled expensive, like it came with a cologne subscription and secrets sealed in wood paneling.
Rachel peeled off to scan the front hall while I paused just inside the kitchen, trying to get my bearings, and saw Jeremy.
Archie’s butler-slash-caretaker-slash-wizard of all things elegant, stood near the wet bar with a folded cloth in hand and an unreadable expression.
But when he saw me, it softened.
“Miss Frankie,” he said, with the gentle kind of smile that made me feel ten again and pretending the world wasn’t hard. “You’re looking radiant tonight.”
“Thanks, Jeremy,” I said, though the compliment landed sideways with everything else clawing at my nerves. “Have you seen Archie? Or Mathieu?”
He nodded, serene as ever. “Mr. Archie took your guest into the study a few minutes ago. For a private conversation.”
My spine straightened like someone pulled a string.
“Private,” I echoed.
Rachel muttered, “That’s never good.”
Jeremy tilted his head. “They didn’t appear hostile. But I trust you’d prefer to check for yourself.”
“Very much,” I said. “Thanks, Jeremy.”
He gave me a slight bow, and we were already moving, past the marble counter, past the gleaming art deco light fixture I’d once heard Archie call “bourbon glam,” down the hall where the light dimmed and the sounds of the party receded entirely.
Rachel’s sandals clicked against the hardwood beside me. “You don’t think Archie would actually?—”
“I don’t know what he’d do,” I said tightly. “That’s the problem.”
We were almost to the study door when another swung open at the far end of the hall.
Thefrontdoor.
I turned just as Jake, Coop, and Bubba stepped into the foyer. Jake looked like a thundercloud wrapped in cotton, clearly still angry, but muted. Contained. Coop looked exhausted. Bubba, as always, wore the grim patience of someone cleaning up after a mess he didn’t start.
Jake’s eyes locked on mine instantly.
I didn’t flinch, but I didn’t look away either.
Let him see I wasn’t afraid.
Let him feel whatever consequence he’d invited into this night.
I turned before he could say anything, lifted my hand, and knocked once on the heavy oak door of the study. No response.
