Page 218 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

The singer began another number, and Rafe leaned closer, his mouth near my ear.

“Stay for one more?”

“You’re getting bold, Mr. Virelli.”

“You’ve encouraged me, Ms. Bradley.”

I laughed. “I’m a terrible influence.”

“Consistent, though.”

By dessert, I had become so soft and happy, I wanted to text Avery something humiliating, then throw my phone into the nearest river for security purposes.

The waitress brought my chocolate torte and Rafe’s espresso. She set a small velvet case beside my plate, then vanished with the speed of a woman who had been tipped into discretion.

“What is that?” I asked, my heart stuttering.

“A case.”

“I see we’re beginning with fundamentals.” My heartbeat changed. “Rafe.”

“I owe you something.”

I stared at the case. It was small, dark green, and unmistakably jewelry box-shaped.

I had been emotionally prepared for chocolate.

“I took something from you the day we met,” he said.

I looked up. The room blurred a little at the edges. All I could see clearly was him.

“You returned it willingly,” he said. “You bargained brilliantly. You changed the course of my life before I had the sense to be grateful.” He clenched his jaw briefly. “But I demanded it from you first. I frightened you. I treated you like an obstacle standing between me and what I wanted.”

“You were upset.”

“It doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

I had replayed that first meeting more times than I wanted to admit. The shock of his command. My hand closing around the necklace. My fear had turned, almost immediately, into opportunity because some desperate, stubborn part of me knew an open door when it appeared, even if the door was an angry dragon in an expensive suit.

“I never thanked you properly,” he said. “You gave the necklace back, but you didn’t give away your chance with it. You asked for the room you deserved to be in. You asked for a future.” His eyes held mine. “I think I loved you first for that, though I was too irritated to recognize it.”

I had to look away, so I focused on my chocolate torte.

Rafe nudged the case toward me.

“Avery and Octavia helped,” he said. “Which means it was nearly impossible to keep secret and very expensive in ways that had nothing to do with money.”

I laughed once, unsteadily. “That sounds right.”

“Octavia informed me three times that I had taste but lacked whimsy.”

“She’s not wrong.”

“No. She also threatened to reject the commission if I chose anything boring.”

“Also sounds right.”

I reached for the case with unsteady fingers. My breath left me when I opened it.