Page 19 of Power
Jace’s eyebrows shot up as he read it. He swiped his lower lip with his thumb, visibly suppressing a laugh, then met my gaze with a mischievous glint. His pen hovered over the napkin for a moment before he scribbled something down and sent it back.
Jace: Unscrew all his doorknobs and handles 99% of the way. Each time he uses one, it’ll pop off. Bonus points if you film it security-camera style.
I couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking my head in amusement. Jace’s grin widened at my reaction.
Me: Set his computer language to Mandarin. Then his phone to Korean. Then his tablet to Russian. Watch him try to Google translate his way out.
Jace read it, and his shoulders shook. He glanced up, giving me an impressed nod before hunching over to write his next idea.
Jace: Put a bumper sticker on his car that reads: Ask me about my llama collection.
This time, I had to cover my mouth to stifle a laugh. Jace noticed and winked while I took a sip of my drink to compose myself before writing again.
Me: Rearrange the keys on his keyboard.
Jace’s eyes lit up at this one.
Jace: Replace family photos with pictures of Nicolas Cage. But, like, really subtle Photoshop. Just enough to make him question his sanity.
I nearly choked on my drink, coughing and laughing at the same time. A satisfied smirk played on his lips.
Me: Hide alarm clocks set to go off at random times throughout his office.
This time, Jace’s shoulders shook harder, and when he looked at me again, there was a new warmth in his eyes. He twirled his pen between his fingers before writing his next idea.
Jace: Put a For Sale sign on his car in the parking lot with a really low price AND his phone number on it.
A deep chuckle escaped my throat. Jace’s smile seemed to warm at the sight of it, watching me with growing interest, which, of course, made a blush creep up my neck.
I penned my next suggestion.
Me: Replace his office chair with a child-sized one.
As Jace read this last one, he didn’t even try to contain his laughter. The rich sound filled the bar, drawing curious glances from other patrons. But I didn’t care. In that moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the room.
Jace locked eyes with me, tilting his head as if I were a mystery that he wanted to unravel.
Remind me: Why was I holding back from Jace again? He was freaking hot as hell, funny, charming, and now, the thought ofnottalking to him (without a napkin) left me with anxiety. Did Iwantto let Grabby Hands ruin my mood for the entire night? Did I want to give him that kind of power?
I had forty-five minutes to kill until my ride got here. Would it be so terrible to talk to Jace to pass that time? Maybe Dakota was right; maybe spending time with him would be fun.
I was about to get the courage to walk on down there, but suddenly, some bombshell in a tight red dress made her move. She’d been on the sidelines, biding her time, gaining courage perhaps, but now, she was standing next to Jace, smiling, twirling her hair, and leaning at the perfect angle to flaunt her cleavage in his face. Why was I glaring at her with this flash of … was that irritation? And why was I this relieved that Jace was not the type of guy who looked at her chest, even once? If anything, he shifted his body away from her, giving a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
I watched him wait for her to get distracted by ordering some complicated martini before turning his body and jotting something on a napkin.
Jace: Save me. Offering generous reward. No questions asked.
My mouth curled up.
Me: She’s pretty. And she’d be in a better mood than I am. You should talk to her. I bet she’s very passionate about llama collections.
His gaze snapped to mine with playful indignation as the woman graduated to touching his arm, her purple nails stark against his skin. Only the bartender giving her extra olives distracted her so Jace could fire off another note.
Jace: I’m sure she’s lovely, but there’s only one woman I want to speak to. The one with the surprisingly devious mind and excellent taste in revenge tactics. Can I please join you?
Through the windows, Chicago’s lights twinkled like theywere in on the moment. I took one last look at his neat handwriting, my heart doing a little dance in my chest.
Me: Yes.
