Page 4 of A Vicious Love

Marcel’s expression remained flat. “He destroyed my office.”

“He was just anxious.”

“Was he anxious while he ate my chair”

“He didn’t like it.” Emmie nodded seriously. “I didn’t like it either.”

Marcel’s attention shifted to her immediately. His fingers moved to her neck, tracing lightly beneath her ear as his entire expression softened.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”

Emmie blushed. “It’s your chair.”

“And you sit on Daddy’s lap while I’m in it.”

He kissed her temple, slow and familiar, his thumb moving over the necklace fitted closely around her throat.

The piece was beautiful. Warm rose gold formed narrow interlocking links with, deep green emeralds circling the centre with tiny white diamonds set around each stone. They caught the ballroom lights whenever she moved, too clean and perfectly matched to have come from an ordinary jewellery house.

To everyone else, it probably looked like another extravagant Crow gift. A beautiful necklace chosen for Marcel’s wife, expensive enough to remind the room how much money sat at our table.

I knew better.

The piece had been measured to Emmie’s throat. It sat too precisely to twist or slip, and there was no visible clasp at the back. The lock was hidden beneath the largest emerald at the centre, exactly where Marcel’s thumb rested now.

It was her collar.

Elegant enough for charity dinners, and royal halls. Permanent enough that only her husband could remove it.

Emmie leaned into his touch without thinking, her blush deepening beneath Marcel’s attention.

My thumb stopped against Jamison’s hand.

“Back to Sienna’s performance,” Emmie said, turning to me. “Where was it streamed? I have to watch it.”

“It was only local programming. Not a big thing. Just the youth scholarship showcase and then the closing piece.”

“I’m still watching it.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

Beside me, Jamison was still talking to Marcel.

I looked down at the tattooed hand resting between mine.

During the next break in conversation, I tried again.

“How was your day?”

His thumb tapped once against his glass. “Fine.”

I waited in case more came.

Nothing did.

“Oh. Good.” I ran my thumb along the side of his finger. “I had my last ballet performance last night. I think I told you about it. It was the one for the scholarship⁠—”

Jamison lifted his free hand and caught a waiter by the sleeve as he passed.