Page 49 of Steal My Heart
“And what will you do to keep that invitation? Will you fuck her with the fingers that were just inside me?” she whispers furiously.
“Would it make you jealous if I did?” I challenge, knowing damn well I’d never do such a thing.
Her cheeks heat with anger as she brushes past me. “What you do with your ‘not girlfriend’ isn’t my business.”
“Bullshit,” I call after her.
Storming back inside the pool house, I throw on my clothes, but not before licking my fingers clean.
Of course Remi Landry tastes like heaven.
My feet tear up the ground in angry clips as I reach the gate. Laurie rolls down her window, and I can barely contain my rage. “You shouldn’t have come here uninvited!”
Laurie shirks back, having never seen this side of me. “You weren’t answering any of my calls or texts,” she starts.
“Because I’m busy,” I spit out the words.
“Is this why you’re busy?” She grabs her phone from the console, shoving in my face a screenshot of me and Remi kissing at the charity gala.
“Where did you get this?” The image was scrubbed, but not quickly enough, it seems.
“Don’t turn this around on me!”
“Turn what around? A stranger kissed me.” Lies and half-truths come with the territory in my world, but this one doesn’t sit right.
“You embarrassed me.” Laurie huffs.
“Let me make it up to you.” Reaching into my pocket, I grab my wallet. Thankfully, Remi didn’t swipe it. Extending my black card, I tell Laurie, “Return to the city for a spa day while I handle business. I’ll pick you up for the party at seven.”
He manicured fingers accept the card a little too eagerly. “You know I can’t stay mad at you.”
Oh, but I guarantee a feisty Cajun woman can.
I find Remi in the study, dressed in threadbare jeans and a worn sweater, her cute little toes covered in combat boots. It’s not lost on me she went with her old clothes and not something I bought her.
Remi’s version of armoring up against me.
I fucking hate it, nearly as much as her calling me by a formal Mr. Calvani, which she looks like she’s about to do now.
Extending my hand, I give my fingers a flex; a subtle warning.
She clamps her mouth shut.
Maks clears his throat. “Here’s what we know.” He moves to the table, where documents are spread out. “After the mayor is sworn in, his inaugural party will be held at the Mardi Gras Design Studio on the riverfront.” He taps the blueprints. “The entire building is rented out for the event, but the main reception hall is where it’ll happen.” He points out the expansive room on the first floor.
She silently examines the blueprints, the wheels in her sharp mind turning. “Do you have a seating chart?”
Maks shakes his head. “No assigned seating. It’s an open bar and buffet, with a jazz band playing on stage here.” He points to the front of the room.
“How am I getting in?” Remi asks. “I don’t know anyone who works at this place, and I presume security will be tight.”
“We’re still working on that part,” Maks admits. “As far as security, yes, it will be tight. General security is provided by the venue; on top of that, the mayor will have a security detail of NOPD officers. Right now, we don’t know which officers will be assigned. Here’s the current roster, keeping in mind the mayor could clean house the moment he’s sworn in.” Maks points out the photos of the cops.
Remi examines each one closely. “Will they be dressed in uniform?”
Maks shakes his head. “Likely wearing suits; but per NOPD policy, they can’t wear the decorative mask due to risk of visual field impairment. So if you see a man in a suit with no mask, it’s a safe bet he’s a cop.”
“Good to know.”
