Page 88 of Choosing Stella

Then she put the thick cookie between those red lips and bit.

For two seconds, I forgot every person in the room except her.

Stella’s dark eyes lifted to mine. She took another slow bite.

“Problem?”

“Not with the cookie.”

Her smile turned wicked.

I dragged my attention back to the ballroom.

We knew the threat reached inside The Exchange security structure. We didn’t know how high, or whether the person who framed Stella had also ordered the grab at her apartment.

We’d come back to make whoever it was react.

The casino had gone ahead with its already-scheduled Halloween bash despite Bellacorte’s death, and judging by the crowd, very few people had canceled.

That worked for us.

It also meant I had several hundred guests to keep track of without looking like I was tracking any of them.

Stella finished the cookie and wiped one spot of raspberry from her thumb with a napkin.

“You’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you stop blinking because you’re counting exits.”

“I’m blinking.”

“Not enough to look normal.”

“I don’t think anyone is counting.”

“I am.”

I glanced down at her.

She took another sip of her cocktail.

“One drink,” she said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking something.”

“I was thinking you should keep it with you instead of setting it down.”

“That’s reasonable.”

“I occasionally am.”

“You’re becoming repetitive.”

Her hand slipped lightly through the bend of my arm as a group in elaborate masks passed behind us.