“Don’t worry.” She patted his forearm. “It’s only for a few days, and then you’ll be with your Ruby every day for the rest of your life.”
The idea of that was far more tempting than it should be to a man who’d pledged his life and his loyalty to his country, especially when the woman in question was the daughter of one of Europe’s most notorious crime bosses whom he just happened to have blackmailed into posing as his fiancée.
…
When the fifth straight pin jabbed her hip the next day, Ruby promised herself she’d never get married. No dress fittings. No seating arrangements. No bullshit. She bit down on her lip to stop from crying out when one of Antoine’s minions stabbed her again when pinning the muslin dress pattern to fit her curves.
“Francine, you must be more careful,” Antoine snarled as he circled the raised platform and apprised the lines of his creation, all of the sparkle in his eyes from the night before as he delivered several toasts in Ruby’s and Lucas’s honor replaced with the bloodshot eyes of the viciously hungover.
“I’m sorry,” Francine said, her apology as real as the dark circles under her blue eyes.
The whole team had worked overnight to get the dress to this stage and would pull even more all-nighters in their efforts to create a one-of-a-kind dress Ruby hoped like hell she’d never actually put on. Guilt pinched her conscience.
“It’s okay,” she said, giving Francine and the other members of Antoine’s team a tired smile. “The compressed timeline isn’t anyone’s friend.”
Her mother came up behind her and looked over her shoulder at the reflection of them both in the mirror. They wore matching resigned expressions.
“You look exhausted,” Ingrid said.
“I didn’t sleep well.” Or at all. It was amazing how quickly she’d gotten used to having Lucas around constantly. She hadn’t seen him since last night at dinner. Now they were only a few hours away from another family dinner sure to be filled with wedding questions she’d have to deflect or lie about.
After gro
wing up on Fare Island, she would have thought herself immune to the stress of deception. She was wrong.
“It’s only for a few days and then you’ll have Luc by your side again.” Ingrid squeezed her shoulders and then took a step back so Francine could pin the last few spots. “I know these traditions can seem silly in today’s world, but it’s the little things that keep us together.”
Together. What was that? After all this was over, she’d be as alone as she’d ever been with her brother still acting as a double agent for the Americans, her mother trapped on the island as always, and Lucas doing whatever it took to keep Elskov safe. And her? What kind of life was there for a mobster’s daughter after she left? She couldn’t imagine a job where the ability to lie, steal, and manipulate were sought after skills.
…
Back in her own soft, pink dress no worse for wear, at least physically, from the dress fitting, Ruby stopped by the French doors leading out to the garden. The riot of color in the wildflower garden stretched as far as she could see. It was so very different from the structured garden at Moad Manor. Her heart sped up the moment she spotted him. In his severe black suit, Lucas should look out of place, but he didn’t. He looked more at home out there surrounded by a sea of pink, blue, purple, red, and white. No matter where he was, Lucas always managed to make it his own without even trying. He’d certainly done so with her. He’d invaded her thoughts, breached her defenses, and made a place for himself.
She was out the door and crossing the flagstone patio before she had even thought about it. “Are you planning to interrogate the daisies?”
The dark brooding look disappeared as soon as he looked over at her and something clanked into place in her chest. No one ever looked at her like that—except for Lucas.
“They’ve been uncooperative,” he said as he reached down and plucked off a bloom and tucked it in her hair, his fingers grazing the shell of her ear before trailing down the side of her throat.
Her heart raced and her mouth went dry. It had only been twenty-four hours since he’d last touched her in the shower, but it felt like forever.
Keep it together, Rubes. This is only a mission for him, and it may be your only way off this island. If Rolf finds out what you’ve been doing, you’re dead before the thought even finishes processing.
It took almost every bit of self-control she had, but she managed not to reach out, not to respond, and not to react when the openness fled from his face, replaced by the stony reserve she recognized from when she’d arrived at Moad Manor. Her lungs grew tight, and she dug deep to keep her chin from trembling.
“Have you had any luck while I’ve been a human pincushion?” There, that sounded almost completely normal, if he missed the slight shake in the last few syllables, which he wouldn’t. Lucas noticed everything.
His gaze narrowed, but he kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back. “I’ve been following Rolf all morning. That’s why I’m out here. He’s in his office.” He jerked his chin toward the big bay window where Rolf stood with his back to the garden, oblivious to the spy in his midst. “I’ve yet to catch him alone, and the phone is always in his hand.”
This whole thing would be so much easier if Rolf wasn’t such a paranoid asshole. Of course, crime bosses who weren’t didn’t tend to last long.
“Is he with Joey?”
“No.” Lucas shook his head and adjusted the daisy tucked behind her ear, but unlike before, his moves were efficient and cold, a cover, not an invitation—not that her body, desperate for his touch, recognized that. “Jasper and Clausen are trailing him. Last report stated he was on his way to the landing strip.”
“So who is Rolf with?” She ducked away from his touch before she embarrassed herself and melted against him. Instead, she trailed her fingers across the hot-pink blooms while keeping the window in her peripheral vision.
“The Sparrow.”