Page 24 of Bared

“He sends his regrets for not coming in person,” Gervais interjected and flashed a pointed look at Remy. Jayd recognized the message. Evrest and Samsyn exchanged one just like it when they were children, trying to talk her into bug hunts. “But he is…allergic…to the velvet in the furniture here.”

“Oh, yes,” Remy concurred. “Allergic. Very.”

“Then why did he pick it as our meeting place?” Jayd glanced to Requiemme, now starting to comprehend her maid’s ultimate wisdom. Maybe she, too, should have started at paranoia—an intuition that gained validation with Gervais’s flared gaze. Most cornered cats looked less intimidated.

“He likes it better out in the garden.” Remy’s explanation flowed with the opposite aura. A cat lazing on a sun-drenched balcony after killing every mouse for miles. “Not a stitch of velvet to be bothered with.”

“Exactly.” Gervais tipped his glass to his lips again, snapping into the same shaken-not-stirred energy. “Which is why, of course, he brought us.”

“Just to fetch us?” Requiemme fired. “Rather than send a waiter or maître d’?”

“Free drinks.”

The men were so synched about their tandem comeback, Jayd released a gale of laughter. No way could something like that be so perfectly rehearsed. The assurance spiked her trust—and then moved her feet.

“What are we waiting for, then?”

Requiemme caught her by the elbow as she checked her back pockets for her cell and spending cash. “Perhaps a texted confirmation from your fath—LaBarre—to clear our handsome escorts?”

“Fine.” But Jayd half huffed it, giving Emme an eye roll in verbal form. She obliged the woman by yanking her phone out and punching in a fast message to LaBarre. But at the same time, she started walking toward the exit. If she stood here for a moment longer, knowing her father was just some easy steps away… Impossible. She would get to him faster than the message itself.

She was determined now.

And trepidatious. And so damn nervous.

But nothing eclipsed her biggest sensation of all. Excitement.

What would he be like? Look like? Would he know her at once, despite how she’d changed her appearance to fool the press? Would he be welcoming and loving, grateful for the chance to finally meet her? Or would he be bitter and brooding, angry about being paid off to stay so far away from her? She would understand that. She would listen and commiserate about his frustration. It was everything she felt too.

Holy Creator. She was feeling so much…

Just when she channeled all that anticipation into a faster pace toward the door, she was grabbed by the elbow from behind.

“We, ahhh, forgot to tell you, ladies,” Gervais stated. “LaBarre is in the private garden. My deepest apologies for the oversight.”

In spite of his court-worthy overture, Jayd tugged out of his grip. She was no stranger to people physically at events, but this was no event. It was a life milestone, and it was turning her whole body into blown glass. One wrong touch and she would shatter.

“A private garden?” she prompted. “I do not recall them having one.”

“Neither do I,” Emme charged.

“It’s new.” Remy drained his drink before setting it down. “Very exclusive.”

Requiemme grimaced. “Perhaps we should wait on that text from LaBarre.”

“It is literally just outside,” Remy insisted.

“Come. I’ll show you the way.” Though Gervais offered a gallant elbow this time, Jayd was skittish about accepting. No. This feeling was beyond that. Emme had done right by her with the paranoia osmosis.

But damn it, manners also prevailed. They had to. Since she was two years old, they had. She gulped hard to push past the fear—and then curled her fingers around his forearm.

Right away, Remy tucked Requiemme’s hand under his own elbow. Jayd fought not to focus on the stiff set of her maid’s spine as they walked past a busy prep kitchen and then out a small side door. By then, her heartbeat was so strong that her whole body shook—but she was not certain the excitement was causing it anymore.

Because beyond the door, there was nothing but a narrow passageway. Stone walls rose up on both sides of the alley, which was no more than two meters wide. It was barely wide enough for flower boxes.

It certainly was not a garden.

But by the time she realized it and pulled in a breath to scream, Gervais clamped his free hand over her mouth. Remy had already flexed the same control over Emme.