Page 6 of Protecting His Finch

But I can’t help myself. I ache. I watch in the mirror as I gently run my finger across my seam. My toes curl into the mattress. I find my core.

Do I dare test my luck and press my finger inside—?

The door opens.

No knock. No preamble. It just…opens.

“Oh!” I retract my hand and snap my knees shut. My notebook tumbles forward in my lap.

Archer, having already stepped inside, immediately turns his head to face the wall.

How much did he see?

His face is beet red, jaw clenched. There’s a vein that climbs from his ear up his forehead. Even here, I can see it throbbing.

He saw enough, I’d guess.

“Your presence is requested. Downstairs.”

His voice is coarse in a way I haven’t heard it before, like wool.

I clutch my notebook awkwardly to my lap. “Thanks. I’ll be right there.”

He nods tightly and then exits as quickly as he entered, shutting the door behind him.

Dear God. Did that…just happen?

I smother my face with my pillow and scream into it.

5

FINLEY

The Den is chaotic.

Strobes and colored lights flash over the dance floor. The music is a loud pulse that makes the floor shake.

I don’t know anyone here. My only friends—Marie-Ella and Tasha—are safely at their own homes for break and far away from here.

But at this party, I’m a Rossi. And Madam Rossi expects her children to behave.

So I smile. I hug acquaintances as though they’re old friends. I imagine everyone here is a friend of the family’s—which means they’re all on the wrong side of the law, or they’re unlucky enough to be in Madam Rossi’s pocket. Needless to say, they’re all incredibly nice to me.

Madam Rossi is, after all, the queen of New York. And I’m her favorite pet.

Then I see him. Archer. He’s sitting in a booth with my brother and two women at the far end of the club.

Bodyguards are—I’ve decided—a different species. He sees things before anyone else does. And it’s as if he can feel my gaze, because he turns and his eyes meet mine.

The second he makes eye contact, I break it. I look at the bar. At my nails. At anything else. When I glance back toward him, however, he’s still looking at me.

My heart beats a little faster. This time, I don’t break first. Instead, I decide to head his way. I walk right up to their table. “Hi.”

“The birthday girl herself!” Raphael launches himself at me and pulls me into a tight hug. His cologne is sickly sweet and overpowering, and I nearly choke on it.

“Thanks, Raphael,” I wheeze.

“Come! Sit with us! Girls, vamanos!” He ushers the two women out, and I scoot into the booth. I’m sitting between the two of them now. I pull at the hem of my dress a little, adjusting.

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