Chapter 21 #2
“Patience, Little Thief.” I smile, pulling out the simple, platinum bracelet I picked for her yesterday at the shop while she was changing back into her sweats.
Her eyes widen when I reveal it, and I can practically see her defenses going up again.
She’s already questioning my motive behind the gift.
That’s fine. I expected as much. “This isn’t some big, glittery thing, but something tells me you’ll appreciate it more,” I explain, watching her expression shift.
She blinks, her lips parting as she stares at the bracelet, processing what’s happening.
I take her left wrist, and her skin is soft under my fingers as I fasten the clasp. It’s a simple gesture, but judging by how she watches me, she doesn’t quite know how to react.
She’s not used to this.
Huh. I would’ve bet that guys fall over themselves to buy her things.
“Why would you buy me this?” she asks in disbelief like the idea that someone might do something kind for her is foreign. It’s not the reaction I expected, but it tells me a lot about her.
“The dress needed some jewelry,” I say, shrugging. The truth is, I wanted to buy her something after Levi paid for the dress and shoes.
To ease my guilty conscience about dragging her into this mess and putting her life at risk too?
Probably.
She snorts, a smile dancing over her lips, trying to mask whatever she’s feeling. “Oh, so you want me to give it back with the dress after?”
“Who said you had to give the dress back? It’s yours. And so is the bracelet.” I make sure to catch her gaze, wanting her to hear me clearly. “You don’t owe me anything. Not a damn thing. I… wanted you to have it.”
She stares at me for a moment, and I catch the flicker of confusion in her eyes, the gears turning as she weighs if I really mean what I’m saying.
The little crinkle appears beside her nose, the same one she had yesterday when she asked about our wealth.
A micro-expression of disgust, not about the money but about herself.
“Think of it as a lucky charm for tonight.”
Her gaze sharpens. “Lucky charm?” she repeats skeptically. “Do you actually believe in stuff like that?”
“My sister believed in lucky charms.” I reach into my shirt and pull out a silver chain. A small rose pendant catches the light as I hold it up for her to see. “She gave me this for our performances, and it’s never failed me.”
Her expression softens, her eyes lingering on the rose. I can tell she’s thinking of her own sister. She told me she missed her, and I can see it now in the way her gaze lowers, something fragile and aching behind her eyes.
There’s so much I don’t know about her yet.
“We all can use a lucky charm,” I add, letting the pendant fall back against my chest.
Her lips part, and I think she might say something. Instead, she looks down at the bracelet and brushes her fingers over the links.
She doesn’t need to say anything. I can feel the shift, the way the weight between us has changed, even if only a little. She’s still guarded, still hiding, but I’m starting to slip through the cracks.
“Thank you,” she whispers like she doesn’t think she deserves any of it.
That’s the part I can’t quite figure out yet.
Why does she see herself this way?
“I’m only good to be looked at or used.”
“Where would I even go with a fifteen-thousand-dollar dress and a bracelet that costs at least as much?”
It costs more but…
… semantics.
“You’ll have to go out with Levi and me more often,” I reply with a grin, trying to keep it light before things get even heavier.
She laughs, shaking her head, her fingers still playing with the bracelet. “No promises. I’m in Italy soon, remember.”
Italy.
She’s going to be pissed when she hears that our deal isn’t over after tonight. But it’s going to be good when this is over, and she’s away and happy.
“Besides, it’s your birthday, not mine, and I don’t have anything for you.” She steps closer. Before I can respond, she rises onto her tiptoes, her scent hitting me like a hurricane as she kisses my cheek. “Happy birthday, Koen.”
Her scent.
It’s a bakery at dawn—sweet, warm, comforting.
It pulls at something deep inside me, something I haven’t felt since I was a kid.
It reminds me of early mornings when my mom used to bake cinnamon rolls on Sundays, and the air filled with that warm sweetness that meant everything was right in the world.
For a second, I’m back there—small, safe, wrapped in a warmth that makes everything else fade away.
For such a simple gesture, the kiss wrecks my insides in a way I can’t seem to shake. Part of me even wants to pull her back, to ask her to do it again, only to feel her against me for another moment.
Fuck.
For the first time since Oscar’s death, the numbness recedes.
Something real is taking root.
“All right.” I clear my throat, not letting her see how much that little kiss threw me off. “Let’s get out of here.” I tilt my head toward the door, giving her a playful nudge. “Levi’s gonna hunt us down if we take too long. You know he has no fucking patience at all.”
She giggles, and we head out. When we reach the car, she hesitates, her gaze flickering between the Bronco and the ground, her fingers tightening around her purse strap.
“How can we make this ride better, so you don’t, you know…” I gesture toward her, “… ruin all your makeup by clamping your eyes shut?” I try to keep my tone teasing, but I’m actually worried.
Yesterday, watching her struggle, I’d wanted nothing more than to stop the car to let her out or, better yet, to climb into the back seat with her and pull her into my lap, shielding her from whatever was haunting her.
And here we are again, another test for her, another challenge I’m hoping she’ll get through.
I’m such an asshole.
“You could let me drink,” she mutters, glancing up at me with a wry smile, though she doesn’t say it as cuttingly as she would have a few days ago. There’s a tension there, though, in her eyes, in the way she grips her purse strap as if it’s the only thing tethering her to the moment.
“I need you sober for this mission. I’m sorry, but you can have champagne with Levi when it’s all over. Deal?”
Yep, definitely an asshole.
“You could put me in a trance, then?”
“Unfortunately, that’s not how this works. I can’t take the fear from you. That would take a lot of work and—”
“Yeah, yeah,” she cuts me off with a wave and a sigh, her shoulders visibly drooping in resignation as I open the passenger door for her, and she only hesitates for another second before taking a deep breath and slipping inside.
Brave girl.
I circle to the driver’s side and take a long breath, trying to think of anything that might help.
When I slide in next to her, she hasn’t even buckled her seat belt.
Her eyes are closed, her knuckles white as she makes fists, pressing her glittery nails so hard into her palms, I’m sure it must hurt.
She’s trying to keep control, but it’s a struggle, and I hate that I’m putting her through this.
“Would it help to sit in the back?”
She shakes her head without opening her eyes. “No, I can do this.”
I lean over, reaching across her to grab the seat belt. My fingers brush her arm as I click it into place, and she flinches, letting out a shaky breath, her eyes still closed.
“Hey,” I murmur over the quiet of the car. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”
She opens her eyes, then I can see it, the real fear, not only nerves.
“Sorry… it’s not that easy.”
“I can see that,” I reply, starting the engine and driving off. “I’m sorry. I’ll drive slow, okay?”
She nods, but her eyes are distant, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the dashboard, and I can tell she’s not here with me.
I need to pull her back.
“What helped yesterday?” I ask. “It looked like it got better after a while there.”
She takes a deep breath. “Music.”
I nod, reaching for the radio to start my playlist. The strumming of “Coal” by Dylan Gossett filters through the car. Her lips twitch almost imperceptibly, but it’s there, a tiny curve, a ghost of a smile.
Good. Maybe that’ll help her breathe easier.
Though still tense, her shoulders aren’t as drawn up anymore, and that flicker of calm washes over me too. It’s strange how music can cut through the noise of whatever chaos is running through your head and bring you back down.
“You’re into country?”
“Mmm.” I hum in confirmation, then add a confession, “I play the guitar.”
She glances at me, curiosity briefly overcoming her anxiety. “Hypnosis, music… what else can you do?”
I embrace that spark of intrigue again, latching onto it, hoping it’ll help her focus on something other than fear. “Want to get to know me?” I tease, half-expecting her to deflect as she always does.
“What if I do?” she shoots back with sass, but there’s a tremor there as she grips the leather seat on both sides of her.
The way her shoulders tense every time I accelerate and her fingers twitch whenever another car passes us, she’s holding on by a thread.
“I’d like to get to know you better, too,” I admit, more serious this time. “I enjoy cooking, baking, making music, spending time with family, staying home. You know, cozy shit. Being out and about is stressful for us. People never leave us alone.”
“Poor celebrity, millionaire baby.” Her shoulders relax even more as she mocks me, mocks us, and I catch the small smile forming on her lips. It’s progress.
“Levi already told you about our finances. Your guess is way off,” I tease back. That makes her giggle for real, but it cuts off abruptly as a sudden wail of a siren pierces the air.
She flinches hard as her hand moves to her wrist, and she fumbles with the bracelet there, her fingers skimming over the cool metal before she starts to rub it in slow, repetitive motions, each movement a whispered plea for control. It’s almost as if she’s trying to hypnotize herself.
Fuck this.
“Little Thief?” I say, my eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“Yes?” Her voice is barely there.