Page 181 of Carnal Wagers

Erel groaned groggily across the line. “It’s too early for this. I’m sleeping.”

From the walk-in closet, I pulled out a dolman-sleeve top and a long, loose skirt to go with it, then laid them out on the bed.

“Then explain why Maeve just showed up at my place three hours early.”

“Three hours early for what?” His yawn drew out into a rumble.

“What do you mean for what?” In the bathroom, I set the phone down on speaker and began my skin care routine. “I planned a double date lunch with Maeve at my place. Didn’t you hear me in the car yesterday? Didn’t she talk to you about it?”

Another long groan dragged out of him. “What are you talking about?”

I frowned. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“Well, aren’t you coming?”

He moan-sobbed in growly puffs. “For what?”

“For the double date. She’s already here. Get your ass here too.”

He growled with a thump against a pillow, and I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “Just leave me out of it.”

“So something did happen between you two. What’d you do?”

“I…Why blame me? Putain, forget I asked. Of course you’re on her side.”

“Her side for what, Erel? Stop being cagey and spit it out.”

Maeve had seemed a little tense earlier, and maybe this was exactly the cause.

“I don’t know,” he shot out. “I. Don’t. Know. She’s been…distant, like she’s pulling away. I have no idea what I’ve done, and she refuses to talk about it. She says she’s fine.”

“She’s not fine.”

“I know that,” he grumbled. “But I can’t read her mind.”

“Maybe these are basic couple hiccups. You’ve never spent this long together in one go. Maybe that’s all it is. A little adaptation period.”

“You think?”

The hopeful peak in his tone made me wince. While that could be the case, it was also possible Maeve had found a pet peeve about Erel that she was having a hard time getting over. I know I would. Like the fact that he never picked up after himself, too used to living in my brother’s mansion, where half a dozen maids trailed after him. Or the fact that he never remembered to water her plants after she asked him to, yet he remembered the time of every upcoming European football match.

I moved on to my makeup. Cillian might not mind, but the idea of having guests over without wearing at least a soft glam look still made me uncomfortable, even if it was Maeve.

“Just come on over and talk it out with her. Being somewhere outside her place might help clear the air.”

“Okay.” He blew out a raspberry.

It was oddly endearing to hear him sound so discombobulated compared to the straitlaced, severe man I’d known for almost twenty years. Over the past two months, Erel had grown on me, and I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing him more often than I used to in France, after I had moved away from my family to Lyon.

“I’ll be over soon. Should I bring something?”

“Oh, yes, please,” I responded enthusiastically as I blended in some smoky eyeshadow. Since Maeve was already here, there wouldn’t be much time to bake or cook. “There’s a brunch café a block away with a French chef. Great food. I’ll place the order and send you the address. Will you pick it up on your way over?”

After we hung up, I placed the order over the phone, then sent the concierge a message to approve Erel as a guest and plugged in the hair dryer. Since no arguments were breaking the sound barrier and no one came knocking with a demand for my intervention, I hoped that meant everything was going well on the other side of the apartment, so I finished styling my hair. Knowing Cillian, he probably found a reason to shut himself in his office and avoid her entirely.

I was just picking out a stunning pair of lace-patterned ankle boots to complement my chosen outfit when my phone rang again.