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“How come?”

“You know I don’t like PDAs.”

“I kissed you at the airport in front of a crowd and the paparazzi and you’re not a fan of PDAs?”

It was the day we left for Belize.

“Will you punish me later for forgetting?”

“I’m planning on it.”

“Good,” I say near her ear. Then proceed to tell her what is in a gift bag stowed in the backseat of the McLaren.

“I . . . but you said you wouldn’t be coming home today. That you had a business trip in New York.”

“And Cillian was supposed to drop you off at home rather than bringing you here. I planned on surprising you.”

We speak in low voices. The others have moved away, giving us privacy. Her pretty eyes widen. She wrings her gloved hands.

“I ruined your plans by agreeing to come here with Cillian. I’m sorry, Maddox.”

“No need to be, baby, so long as you dole out my punishment as soon as I get in the door.”

“I can do that.”

“I’m counting on it.” I chuck her under the chin. She looks like someone kicked her puppy.

Cillian clears his throat. “Are the business owners treating you right? If they’re not rolling out the welcome mat, you let me know. I’ll give them an earful for treating an upstanding businessman such as yourself like shit.”

“They’ve been nothing but kind and helpful, Cillian.”

Not true. There’s grumbling from some obstinate owners who are doing more harm than good for this neighborhood. I plan on putting pressure on these good-for-nothing bastards and hope they clean up their act. Otherwise, my men will be sending them a personal message as well as a well-deserved beating.

Shit, that puts me in the same category as Cillian, the mobster who happens to be my father-in-law.

“That’s good to hear, Maddox. Who is this lovely lady with you?”

I stare a hole in Cillian’s face. He knows exactly who Kris is.

“Kristine Holland. Maddox and I grew up together.”

“Her father was a police officer with Oakland PD. He died in the line of duty when Kris was seventeen,” Joe volunteers.

“To lose a husband. Your mom must’ve been heartbroken.”

“She was.” Kris’s eyes tear up.

“Her mother died from cancer the week before Kris left for Massachusetts for college,” Joe says, filling in the silence of Kris’s sadness.

“Aw, my dear, I’m sorry for your losses.”

“Thank you, Mr. McCabe.” Kris’s eyes flicker from Cillian’s face to my hand in Blaise’s. “We should go, Maddox. We can’t be late for our appointment.”

“Appointment?” Blaise looks from me to Kris.

“Apartment shopping. Maddox and I are touring apartments together.”

“You should go, then.” She slips her hand out of mine. “Hale, take me home please. Cillian can catch a ride with the others.”