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“Get dressed, woman.”

* * *

“You look beautiful,” I tell her.

And she looks even better when she smiles and wraps her arms around my neck. The scent of her shampoo fills my nose.

“And you look handsome,” she murmurs.

We head out of the penthouse and down to my car, holding hands. I can feel her pulse fluttering beneath my thumb.

She is so goddamn nervous, and so am I.

I think about what she said last night about her father. About what he did.

There will be a reckoning, that’s for sure.

There’s that quiet rage bubbling away, but I suppress it.

Not now.

Save Jolie first, confront her father later, and then create the future the two of us deserve.

I hope to God I can somehow pull it off.

39

JOLIE

I’m clutching my folder, uncertain, as Fabien drives us through the streets of New York. He might not tell me where we’re going, but as I look out the window, I’m starting to piece together what he may have in store.

“Here?” I ask him as we park outside his art gallery.

“Yes,” Fabien replies calmly. “Here.”

His gallery?

What the hell is his freaking plan?

Inside the gallery, there are already staff members setting up for some kind of event. There’s a table full of canapes and rows of champagne glasses. It’s all very fancy.

But for what?

Fabien guides me into the main space with a hand on my lower back. He stops a staff member and gives her an order. Other staff greet him with a smile. Fabien’s so relaxed. This is his kingdom.

“Last night you told me how much you despise the Castaways,” he tells me as he points a staff member toward champagne bottles, “and I said the Order can have its uses. Well, today is one of them.”

“What are you talking about, Fabien? Are you saying the Castaways are involved in this?”

“Enough to give me an edge.”

“Be careful messing with them,” I reply. “They know how to mess back.”

“I know, Jolie.”

“So what have they given you?”

“You want to hear it?”