Page 19 of Rolling 75 (The Noire Brothers #1)

“Use your words,” I mock. “I’m doing precisely what you want—adhering to the contract, no matter how much we might not like it.”

“How’s this for some goddamn words?” He smacks the island, glares at me, and points toward the back of the penthouse. “Go to your room, Mercy.”

“You’re fucking high,” I snipe.

“As a Rüppell’s griffon vulture,” he volleys, which I find mildly impressive because he got it right.

But I refuse to offer even a speck of an accolade, especially since Axel is staring at him like he’s lost his mind, which I appreciate.

Before I can react, Ryker tacks on, “I’ll discuss this with Axel and let you know.”

“Not happening.” I repeat his earlier statement and stroll around the room, singing the rest of my taunt while gliding my fingertip along the gold veining in the black marble countertop.

“You’re not in charge of this part. You’re just the guy I have to pretend to be betrothed to. Axel is my real boss.”

Ryker’s glacial blues are bulging. It’s entirely possible that his head will spin, like that girl from The Exorcist with one of the president’s names.

I saw that movie when I was eleven or twelve, and it fucked me up.

Right now—though I’m sure I’ll be terribly remorseful about this tomorrow—I’m not opposed to a reenactment.

“Good point. You need your sleep because tomorrow is our date. You are mine. All. Fucking. Day. Your boss ”—he launches a pointed finger at Axel this time, like he’s wielding a dagger—“already gave you the day off. Isn’t that right, Axe?”

Axel’s hands are stuffed in his pockets. His face is screwed up, like he’s a spectator at a volleyball match where they’ve substituted a cantaloupe for the ball.

“ Unfortunately , all day won’t work for me. I need to arrange childcare—”

“I’ve got Remy.” Axel breaks through my excuse, proclaiming which side he’s on. Not that it’s a surprise.

It is a reminder that I’m always on my own though.

“Right.” I bob my head, fighting the tears of defeat. “I forgot what the primary purpose of the contract was. Seems pointless to take me out. Just cart me down to Magie Noire, tie me up, and snap some pictures for the La Lune Noire brochures. Martina will get that message. Why buy the milk?”

“Cow,” Ryker barks.

“What?” I ask, frustrated by the stupidity of this detour.

“The saying is”—he scrubs his hands over his face, patently exasperated—“ why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? ”

“Which is pretty much what I said.” I throw my arms in the air, at a loss, to which Axel laughs and rocks on his heels.

Ryker leans against the counter, crosses his arms and ankles, and does an impeccable impression of a GQ model who is no longer in need of purification to keep his head on straight.

“It’s not at all what you said. There were maybe three similar words, and that’s where the correctness ends.

And even if you’d gotten it right, it doesn’t fit here.

Since I’ve literally handed you the keys to my whole goddamn kingdom. ”

I honestly can’t even remember what I said anymore, so I have no idea whether it made sense, but I’ll fess up to that when the Noires knock on the pearly gates and beg for admittance.

Which is why—even though I’ve gathered that this idiom actually tags me as cattle and I’m averse to that unflattering image, whether I’m trying to snuff out any sexual sparks or not—I settle on the super-mature response of, “Says the cow abductor .”

Axel snickers before he moseys over to me, tugs me against him, and kisses my hair. “I really missed you, Mercy. Remy fell asleep during the movie, but we had the best time. He’s the coolest kid.”

That cracks me wide open. I still remember how Axel doted on Jax and Rena when they were young.

Despite their tragic past, they had more love in their childhood than I’d ever seen.

And that has been doled out to Remy by all five Noire brothers since we arrived.

It’s a gift and a curse because if—when—we disappear again, that loss will shatter us both.

Maybe I should have sent Ty an SOS message back in Sinclair. It would have saved us all a lot of heartache.

Sucking in a centering breath, I squeeze him back and peer up at him. “Thanks. I figured he would. He’s watched Cars about seventy times. But, yeah, he’s the best thing I ever did. I’m glad you had fun.”

“You did good,” he agrees, releasing me. “Why don’t you go peek in on him and let me wrap things up here?”

I nod my compliance before my gaze flits to Ryker, who is studying our interaction with rapt interest. Axel’s right. I should walk away while Ryker and I aren’t at each other’s throats, but I need to know what’s in store.

“What are the expectations for this fake date?”

Ryker surprises me. The rigid cut of his jaw softens as the heels of his palms land on the countertop behind him, shrouded by grand Art Deco charm. “Just that you be there as my fiancée. We’ll spend the day with Remy. Rooftop event in the evening.”

A twinge of contrition coasts through me.

I was terrified he’d never be able to look at Remy without seeing Dalton, and not only has he treated him like family, but the day off?

That appears to be so I can spend time with Remy and not be guilt-ridden for going out at night after a full day of work.

My chest constricts. He thinks of everything.

“Okay.” I should leave it at that, and I almost do, but sometimes, my mouth has a mind of its own. I can’t help stirring things up. So, as I amble out of the kitchen, I call over my shoulder, “It’s a date, but only because you didn’t tell me to bring the milk or offer to milk me.”

“Jesus. You’re making it worse,” he bellows. “And it still doesn’t make fucking sense.”

Some things never change.