“Hello?” Oliver snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Gabrielle. What’s the dresscode?”
“You just assumed you were invited?”
He picked up the margarita sitting in front of him and slurped it down. He’d gotten Bishopcourt’s chef to make him one, and by the smell of it, one with a little alcohol. Oliver would manage to swing that.
“Of course I’m invited,” he said. “I’m your BBF, and you always invite your BBFs to parties, so, formal, I take it?”
I shrugged. “I have no clue.”
He huffed. “You’re supposed to know these things—it’s your celebration after all.”
“Well, I seriously doubt we’re going to have a casual cookout, Oliver. Use your own judgment.”
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Whoa, someone needs to loosen up. Actually,” he said, his eyes alighting, “both you and Andre could use a good roll in the hay—minus the hay, because ew, we’re not beasts here.”
Geez, did literally everything come down to sex with this one?
As I stared at him, I realized, Why yes, yes it did.
“There are a lot of things I need. I hate to break it to you Oliver, but sex is not exactly topping that list.”
“Then your list is wrong.” He peered over the rim of his glass. “Also,” he said, eyeing me, “I seriously doubt that.”
“Whatever, Oliver.” I drummed my fingers on the countertop. “By the way, where’s Leanne?”
Oliver checked out his nails, right now painted Robin’s Egg Blue. “She’s busy—with a man.”
My brows shot up. “She has a hot date?” She hadn’t mentioned anything the last time I saw her.
Oliver took a dainty sip of his margarita. “Eh,” he lifted a shoulder, “it’s a new development. She foresaw a chance encounter with a crush of hers. Not that she didn’t want to be here. It was a tough call—spending the evening with a hot date over a depressing mess like you.”
I gave him an arch look. “And yet you’re here.”
Oliver sniffed. “It was a tough call for her. An easy one for me.”
Just when I thought Oliver was about as rude as they come, he went and said something like that.
“—Plus, I already got laid twice today. I had room to fit you into my schedule.”
And there he went ruining it.
“Oli-ver,” I laughed. I pushed his shoulder with a little too much force.
“Aaaaiieeeek!” Oliver screeched as he toppled off his chair.
I cursed. “Oliver?”
Suddenly a hand holding a still-full margarita shot into view. “Saved the alchy! Oh—and I hate you.” A moment later the rest of Oliver popped up.
“Sorry!”
“You wait—next time I’m choosing the beefy dude over your ass.”
Trouble was, there’d be no next time.
Once Oliver left, I found Andre back in his study. He reclined in his chair, his feet kicked up on his desk, his phone cradled against his ear.
“…Chief Constable,” he was saying when I entered, “I’ve been doing this for a long time. Far longer than you. You’d have to take this place apart brick-by-fucking-brick before you got your hands on her.”
My gooseflesh puckered when I realized he was talking about me to Chief Constable Morgan, my former boss.
Andre’s eyes darted to me, his expression heating.
Andre swung his feet off the desk. “I can promise you two things,” he said into the speaker. “One, you will never lay a finger on her. And two, if you think to try again, my wrath will make the devil’s look like child’s play.” He dropped the phone onto the receiver without waiting for a response.
“Soulmate,” he said, his voice gentling. He stood and came over to me. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”
I shook my head. “You’ve been coordinating my safety this whole time, haven’t you? While I’ve been hanging out with Oliver.”
He stopped in front of me, and his knuckles grazed my cheek. “I wanted you to be untroubled for a few hours. God knows you deserve it.”
I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. “Thank you.”
“That does not deserve your gratitude.”
I opened my eyes and gazed into Andre’s beautiful face. That chiseled jaw that led to his soft, supple lips. That straight nose, that shock of dark hair. But above all, those deep, soulful eyes that could make his face look harsh or angelic.
I could draw him in my dreams, and I would. I’d carry his image with me, and I’d remember it when things got really bad.
“What are you thinking of?” Andre’s eyes moved between mine.
I swallowed, pushing down the truth. “Why has no one tried to attack this place?” I asked instead.
Andre frowned, and I had the distinct impression he knew my thoughts had lingered elsewhere. But he answered me anyway. “This place has centuries of complex enchantments. It should be impenetrable to foes.”
He pinched his lower lip, his expression darkening. “But every stronghold has a weakness, and Bishopcourt is no exception. It won’t last forever. We will have to leave—and soon.”
“How soon?” If I could snatch back words, I would retrieve those ones. Here I was, making plans with Andre when I had no right to. Not anymore.
Andre lifted an eyebrow. “As soon as you’d like, soulmate, barring tonight or tomorrow—that’s when my subjects want to host the celebration. But two days from now we could leave.” His eyes glimmered with anticipation. Those wheels in his head turned at this very moment, scheming our escape.
“The celebration will be tomorrow?” Horror crept up my throat, trying to choke my windpipe. All that is holy, that was when I was slated to head to hell.
“Best to get it over with as quickly as possible. The coven’s aware that we’ll have to disappear again soon, and who knows the next chance we’ll have to gather again.”
I found my voice. “We can’t do it tomorrow.” I rushed the words out.
Andre peered at me, his eyes missing nothing. “Why not, soulmate?”
I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. “Because people are after me!” Devil aside, a celebration in the midst of a manhunt was ridiculous.