Page 51 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

Because whatever else happens, however soon she leaves me…

I’ll always have that smile.

Sixteen

River

Flour coats the marble countertops.

There’s cinnamon everywhere.

And somehow I’ve used nearly every mixing bowl in Thorn’s apartment.

But the counters are full of delicious treats.

Am I stress-baking?

Yes.

Am I stressed because it’s been just days since I was kidnapped and last night I slept in the same bed as a man I told myself I would never—ever—allow myself to get close to?

Also, yes.

Is that stress amplified by the fact that when I woke up this morning, the space beside me was empty?

It smelled of him, spicy and male and Thorn, so I know I didn’t dream it.

But I was alone.

Well, except for the note Thorn left on the bathroom counter, telling me he had to go out and one of Pascal’s guys was stationed by the elevator.

I asked him to sleep with me.

And he went out.

Hence…stress-baking.

The elevator chimes and I immediately tense, my hand reaching for a knife even though the mostly silent security man standing inside the hall doesn’t look concerned.

Scott does have his hand on his gun though, which is less reassuring?—

The elevator doors open with a whoosh.

My heart flutters, actually flutters, as Thorn steps off the elevator, a bag in his hand.

His eyes immediately come to me…then drift away, seemingly taking in the counters full of baked goods and messy cooking implements.

“Thanks,” he murmurs to Scott, who nods and starts for the elevator.

“Wait!” I blurt and Scott turns back, his expression blank, though his brows lift in question. “Did you want to take some of this”—I sweep a hand out, indicating the spread—“with you?”

One half of Thorn’s mouth hitches up.

Scott shakes his head, says gently, “Thanks, River, but I’m good.”

“Okay,” I whisper as he lifts a hand and steps into the elevator.

Thorn lingers in the hall and I’m suddenly aware how ridiculous I’m being. How wasteful and dumb. God, there’s enough food here to feed an army and?—