Chapter 59
“You Are in Love” - Taylor Swift
Pierce
“Can you hand me the marshmallow vodka?” I ask Maeve.
She barely glances at the bottles next to her before grabbing one and passing it to me.
“That’s the marshmallow syrup.”
“Well, how am I supposed to know the difference?” She sets it back down with a pout.
I bite back my smile and reach around her for the alcohol. “No worries, Panther. I’ve got it.”
She leans back against the counter. “What are you making tonight?”
“Toasted marshmallow espresso martinis,” I say, measuring shots into the mixing glass.
She’s playing hostess tonight, as she has many times, and I swear it will never get old. She looks like a dream in that tiny floral-print dress, waist cinched, legs lengthened by four-inch heels. One of these days, I’m going to make her mine in every sense of the word.
I already have the perfect ring—four-carat Asscher-cut solitaire on a thin yellow gold band studded with pavé diamonds.
The diamond itself dates back to the eighteenth century, and I bought it several months ago when it went up for auction at Sotheby’s.
I had it set in a custom band at Harry Winston and just picked it up last week.
I wanted nothing more than to give it to Maeve the second I left the jeweler’s, but it has to be perfect. She deserves that much. Besides, if I rush things, I only risk scaring her. She’s finally starting to trust me, and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that.
But you’d better believe I will be asking her when the time is right.
“What?” Her brows knit together as she looks at me, and I realize I’ve been staring.
“Nothing.” I tug her into my arms, then bend her backward for a long kiss. She tastes like the marshmallow she snuck earlier, and I want to take her to the bedroom more than I want oxygen.
Unfortunately, the doorbell rings before I can enact any of the dozen fantasies filling my mind.
“If we ignore them, do you think they’ll go away?” I murmur into Maeve’s neck, which she’s spritzed with that custom perfume she knows drives me nuts.
She presses her palms against my chest, but there’s no strength there, because she wants this as badly as I do. “They’d never forgive us.” Her teeth sink into her lower lip, painted red like the forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden.
“They’ve all been in our shoes,” I say, nipping at her earlobe as the bell rings again. “Pretty sure they’d understand.”
The chime sounds once more, and I raise Maeve back up to standing.
“That would be Lux,” she says, rolling her eyes, then straightening her dress and moving to the door. When she opens in, Lux and Co. flood into my flat the way they do every Tuesday night.
Rhett is the last one inside, and he slaps me on the back as I finish garnishing the last of the cocktails with toasted marshmallows. “Hope we didn’t interrupt anything,” he says, wearing a giant-ass grin on his face that completely contradicts his words.
“Fuck off.” I shake his hand off with a smile of my own. There will be plenty of time to divest Maeve of her clothes later.
In the game room, I pass drinks to everyone around the table.
“What is this, Pierce?” Walker asks. “It’s actually delicious.”
“Praise be,” Lux says, before taking a sip. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is amazing.”
I shoot them both a droll look and take a seat. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, ladies.”
“Remember when he made that jalapeno one for Walker’s welcome home and she nearly seared her tongue off?” Rhett says with a laugh.
“Okay, in my defense,” I say, “I forgot she doesn’t like spicy things.”
“I think that was our diabolical queen’s doing.” Lux gives Maeve a pointed look.
Maeve turns red as she scans the group. “I’ll admit it was a bitch move, and that was years ago! Besides, I apologized to Walker.”
Walker nods and holds up her glass to Maeve. “She did. Water under the bridge.”
Saylor leans over to Rhett and whispers, “You’ll have to tell me the story later.”
I shuffle the cards and begin dealing as everyone submits their grievance antes.
It’s all bogus stuff—an idiot catcalling Lux while Slate was walking right beside her, Rhett being offered unsolicited advice, someone cutting ahead of Heath in line, Maeve being left on read in a text thread—and we never go after people for this shit, but it’s a tradition, and if there’s one thing my girl loves, it’s tradition.
“Did Briar get into Oxford, then?” Maeve asks Lux and Slate.
“She never applied,” Slate says.
“Oh, is she trying for an Ivy instead? Or Cambridge? I bet she’d do terrific there.”
Slate shakes his head and looks at his cards. “She’s staying in Wesbourne for school.”
Maeve frowns as the wheels in her head turn. I know she can’t fathom why anyone would choose not to try to get into one of the top universities in the world, but she’s doing better at keeping some of her thoughts to herself.
I lift a hand to hide my smile.
“Was that her decision or yours?” Maeve asks. Well, her filter is still a work in progress.
Slate pins her with a dark gaze. The man is as protective of his sister as he is of his girlfriend. “We made the decision together.”
I can tell Maeve wants to say more, but I put my hand on her thigh and give it a small squeeze.
She deflates and leans back in her chair.
“Good girl,” I murmur into her ear as I reach to flip over the cards in the flop.
The game continues as everyone jokes and fucks around, and I can’t believe how close I came to losing this forever. Thank God it all worked out, because I can’t imagine my life without these people. Those few months away from everyone were hell.
Rhett folds and leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “Hey Maeve, you still have that hot-air balloon?”
She glares at him. “No. Pierce took care of it months ago.”
I tuck my lips between my teeth and study my cards.
Rhett snorts, causing Maeve to swivel her head in my direction. “What?” she says.
I shake my head, keeping my eyes away from her. One look and I’ll crumble.
She tosses her cards onto the table and turns her entire body toward me. “What aren’t you telling me, Pierce St. James?”
“Here we go,” Rhett says, a definitive note of glee in his voice.
“I’ll get the popcorn,” Heath deadpans.
I flip them both off.
“Pierce.”
I can read every note in Maeve’s voice, that beautiful voice I love and hate simultaneously. She’s sending me a warning, but we both know she doesn’t have a leg to stand on. Her hand slides up my thigh and comes to rest on my crotch.
Except that one. I shift in my seat, but she only increases the pressure.
“What happened to the hot-air balloon?” she croons.
“It’s handled.” I place my own hand on top of hers, but she ignores it and uses the heel of her palm to slowly begin rubbing one out. Any other time I’d simply sit back and watch her, but all six of our friends have their eyes glued to us right now.
“Where is it?”
Wrapping my fingers around her wrist to halt her movements, I finally meet her gaze. “It’s still in the basement.”
Deep furrows form on her brow as she tries to snatch her hand away. “It’s what?”
I sigh and lean my arms against the table before she can get any other ideas. “You would’ve discovered it a long time ago if you weren’t so terrified of the dark.”
“I specifically asked you to get rid of it. Not doing so means you didn’t complete the challenge. That’s a direct violation.” She turns to the rest of the group for support.
“Maeve, he already forfeited,” Lux says.
My girl’s face turns red, and I long to reach over and slip a finger into her panties. She must be soaked by now.
“Listen,” I say, sliding an arm around her rigid shoulders and tugging her close to me, “we can fight about this later. Right now, we should plan our revenge on Deirdre Cox once and for all.”
A chorus of agreement sounds around the table, then everyone waits to see what Maeve will say. No matter how many people we add to our group, she will always be our fearless leader. Except when it comes to dogs and the dark, but don’t tell her I mentioned that.
“Okay.” Maeve nods, but the look she sends me out of the corner of her eye tells me we’ll be revisiting this conversation after everyone leaves, and I can’t wait. I’ll give her two minutes to yell at me before I fuck her long and hard, all night long.
It takes us an hour to come up with a plot for taking revenge on Deirdre, one that will hopefully work out better than the last one.
Ms. Cox is planning a huge party—the witch isn’t subtle in the least—in spite of the fact that she didn’t win the hot-air balloon of her dreams. We’re planning to gift it to her anonymously, but instead of it being her crowning glory, when the balloon is inflated at the party, it will reveal the words Deirdre: Patron Saint of Greed painted across it for every guest to see.
It’s taken months, but we’ve finally managed to gather enough evidence to have her arrested. She pulled the same trick on another nonprofit earlier this year, and I’ve been in contact with them ever since, pooling our data. The only thing left is to play all our cards at the right time.
“Detective Richards still owes me a favor,” I say. “He has arranged for the arrest to be made during the party.”
I can feel Maeve staring at me. “Who is Detective Richards?”
“An old contact.” Tossing her a casual smile, I continue shuffling the cards. She never found out about Mr. Carrow, and it’s better to keep it that way. It would only dredge up old memories that are better left buried.
“I can get us all invites,” Lux says. “That way we can all watch this bitch burn.”
“I say we torch the balloon while we’re at it,” Maeve mutters.
“Hear, hear,” Walker agrees.
“I don’t know, babe,” I say, nudging Maeve with my knee. “I was kind of thinking it would be a nice way to commemorate the beginning of our relationship.”