Page 25 of Double Down

“It means you matter,” he finally says. “And you need to remember that. It means no one gets to put you at a table by yourself. Not the parents. Not rivals. Not us. You don't get split to sweeten a deal. If a door tries to close on you, we wedge a foot in it."

It's stupid and small and exactly what I needed. "’No one puts Baby in a corner,’” I whisper.

He cocks his head, a little smile forming at the reference. “Yeah. We’re keeping you,” he says. “One way or another, even if Con doesn’t know it yet.”

“What if I don't want to be kept?" I ask, soft.

He considers that, really considers it. "Then we relearn our hands. We learn what holding looks like when it doesn't mean caging." He nudges my knuckles with his. "I can do that. I've been practicing."

My phone buzzes again against the granite. My stomach turns, and I shutter my eyes in a slow blink.

Just tell him.

Maverick's gaze flicks to it, then to me. "Spam?" he repeats, offering me the out one more time.

"Yeah." My lips form the lie before I can come clean. We are having a moment, and I can’t bear to ruin it. "Spam."

"Okay." He slides a single chip across the island. It's matte black, the Titan crest etched in gunmetal. "A marker," he says. "Not forthe cage. For the call and the bullshit attached If you need me, you put this chip anywhere, and I'll find you."

"That's some dramatic Batman nonsense," I murmur, but I curl my fingers around the chip because it's cold and heavy and real.

"Dramatic works on my demographic." He flashes a set of white teeth. "Also, I'm charming, wealthy, and have a huge cock… I’m literally the life of the party in most cases."

"Well, you're wealthy," I correct, but I can't help smiling. The smile hurts and helps at the same time.

"Ouch." He leans in and rests his forehead against mine for a second—no heat, just contact. The kind of touch that doesn't take, just steadies.

“You are dangerous, kitten. You have the power to ruin everything. I should hate you for that, and maybe I do…but I can’t quit you.”

“You should hate me.”

I can tell him, right now. Show him the messages and wash my hands of it.

"No. You’re our good girl." He runs his thumb over my bottom lip.

“For what? Why?” I ask confused.

“For being the only one who never asked us for anything.”

My phone buzzes again—three short, insistent pings. Maverick's gaze goes flinty for a half second, the smile turning cold. "If that spam needs someone to start talking back, you tell me." A beat. "Or Atticus. Or Conrad. Or Storm. But you tell one of us."

"I will." It’s a lie.

He kisses my temple, light as the silk at my wrist. "Go back before the general wakes up and thinks I stole his favorite knife."

"He doesn't own me," I deny out of reflex, even when the warmth in my chest says otherwise.

"Sure." He winks. "That's why it's fun."

I tuck the chip into my palm and go back to Conrad’s room.

Ten. That’s how many messages have come through. All of them harassing.

All but the one that forces my phone to vibrate as I’m slipping under the covers next to the man who loves to hate me.

Nelly Nice Neighbor

Hey, I know you’re gone for a bit. But that stray that likes your place has been going over to Mary’s house and she called animal control. Figured I’d let you know in case you want to come get him before they do.