Lane’s expression doesn’t change, but I swear his eyes glint with mischief.
“All right. You’re right. We’ll… adjust.”
Theo and Timmy exchange a look that iswaytoo conspiratorial.
“Wait,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “What does that mean?”
Theo leans close to his camera and winks.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of everything.”
My stomach drops. “Guys—no—seriously?—”
But Timmy blows a kiss, Lane presses a button, and suddenly my screen goes black with the wordsCall Ended.
I sit there in stunned silence, staring at my reflection… And realize, with bone-deep dread, that I am very, very screwed.
I should’ve knownsomething was up when Theo texted me out of nowhere:check your doorstep.
There’s a box waiting when I open the door, tied with a cheerful bow. Inside are decadent-looking bonbons with fancy names like Velvet, Midnight, and Sin. My chest warms for a second, thinking maybe Keane sent them. I bite into one and nearly choke. Gummies. Hidden inside the chocolate.
It doesn’t take a genius to know it’s Lane’s stash of CBD candy.
My phone buzzes at the same time, and suddenly my speakers are hijacked by a playlist I definitely did not make—slow, sultry bass lines and lyrics that leave very little to the imagination. Heat crawls up my neck.
I barely have time to fumble with the volume before another delivery lands: a padded envelope with no return address. Inside is a huge bottle of lube and socks patterned with eggplants. I groan, dropping my forehead into my hand.
“Subtle,” I mutter to the empty apartment.
It’s them. Has to be. The timing, the contents—it’s so on brand I can practically hear Timmy’s cackle. And the worst part? I’m torn between wanting to throttle them and wanting to crawl under my weighted blanket and die.
Because they’re not wrong.
I’m still glaring at the eggplant socks like they personally offended me when a knock rattles the door. My stomach drops.
Keane.
In a panic, I swipe the bonbon box off the counter, shove the envelope under a cushion, and kick the socks halfway under the couch. Smooth. Totally smooth. Except for the fact that the apartment now smells faintly of chocolate and… well, fruit candy.
I plaster on a smile and open the door.
“Hey, Daddy.”
His eyes soften immediately, that constant warmth that always makes me feel like I’m going to melt right there in the doorway. But then his gaze drifts past me, scanning the room. His brows lift the tiniest bit.
“Something smells… interesting,” he says.
“Uh. Dinner?” My voice cracks on the word.
He steps inside, sets his briefcase down, and in two strides he’s in the kitchen. I lunge after him, but too late—his hand closes around the abandoned bonbon box. One of them already bitten open, suspicious contents on full display.
Keane’s mouth twitches, fighting a smile. Then his gaze cuts to the edge of the couch where a sliver of purple fabric—eggplant socks—peeks out. His lawyer's stare locks onto me.
“Oren,” he says, voice low. “Want to tell me why your friends are sending you contraband?”
Heat burns my face. My heart trips all over itself.
“I—I didn’t… I didn’t ask them to. They’re just—” I rub the back of my neck, mumbling, “Trying to help.”
