Page 97 of The Obedient Lie

Then she shook her head, almost sheepish.

Luca was already watching her. Already reading the same thing I was. The pink still high on her cheeks. The hunger she wouldn’t admit. The way she tilted ever so slightly between us like her bodyknewwhere she belonged.

“Better idea,” Luca said, lifting the bottle the bartender had just handed over. Something dark and expensive and dangerous.

He looked at me, then back at her.

“Let’s leave.”

Emilia blinked, caught between surprise and curiosity. “Now?”

Luca tilted the bottle toward her. “Unless you’d rather keep pretending this party is worth your time.”

I stepped in behind her, close enough that she could feelthe heat of my chest at her back. “Come on, baby,” I murmured into her ear. “You already gave them a show. Let’s not waste the encore.”

She hesitated for half a breath.

Then she grabbed her clutch off the bar, and turned—eyes flicking between us.

“Fine,” she said, voice steady but low. “But if we leave, we’re not coming back.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

EMILIA

The suite was… breathtaking.

Top floor. Panoramic windows. The kind of view that didn’t just overlook the city—itownedit.

Everything inside was sharp, clean, impossibly expensive. Polished marble floors. Glass decanters. Deep, masculine scents—cedar, smoke, leather, and something darker that always clung to them.

Of course it was their family’s hotel.

Of course.

The Crow crest was everywhere. Subtle, but undeniable. Etched into the glassware. Embossed on the corner of the rug. Branded into the steel fixtures. Even the skyline outside bowed slightly to their empire.

I stumbled a little when I kicked off my heels and Bastion caught me—easy, instinctual, like he’d been watching my feet more than the door.

“I’mfine,” I said, voice a little too round, a little too happy. “Just tipsy.”

Luca arched a brow from across the room, already pouring something dark into a glass. “You only had one glass.”

“Exactly,” I said, flopping onto the velvet couch and pulling Bastion down with me. “So I’m perfectly tipsy. Not drunk. Not even close.”

He smirked but didn’t argue.

My fingers found his hand without thinking. Big. Warm. Calloused. Still faintly marked from the game.

“This hand,” I whispered, tracing the length of his fingers, “won the game tonight.”

Bastion let out a low sound, amused. “Just this one?”

“Mhm,” I said, nodding solemnly. “Just this one, and” I frowned, then grabbed Luca hand, dragging him closer by the wrist until I had both of their hands in mine.

“And this hand,” I said, holding Luca’s now. “Just these two.”

I blinked, brow furrowing slightly.