Black Jack (Advantage Play #5) - Kelsie Rae Page 0,37

reach for my wine, Wallace clarifies, “So, your brother framed Reed?”

The glass tumbles over, and my blood runs cold at the name.

What?

No. No, no, no, no.

I must’ve heard him wrong.

Reed’s the guy? How? How can this be happening? There’s no way––

Jack fumbles for my spilled glass, and seeps up a bit of the red liquid with his once-white napkin. Once the table is cleaned, Jack sets his hand on my knee and squeezes it softly.

“Bianca?” Jack murmurs in an attempt to bring me back to the present.

“Sorry,” I apologize with an awkward chuckle, praying it doesn’t sound as forced as it feels. I blink slowly and try to focus on the conversation at hand. “I guess I’ve turned into a bit of a clumsy lightweight. But Dominic didn’t frame anyone. He simply allowed their transaction to be caught on tape. And then he turned it into the proper authorities.”

“And why would your brother do that, Bianca?” Wallace prods, his gaze narrowing.

“Because he wants me to be happy.”

Unconvinced, Wallace leans forward and rests his elbows on the table still littered with the forgotten food. “So, he was willing to exchange his freedom for your happiness?”

“You should be grateful he did. If not, you’d still be chasing the wrong man.”

“Enough business talk,” Melanie interrupts. “Your dinner is cold.”

“I apologize, Mel,” her husband replies before reaching for his fork and shoving an oversized bite into his mouth. I watch it roll around in his closed trap for a few seconds, then pick up my almost empty goblet and take a small, controlled sip.

Because it’s the little things that keep up a charade. The tiny bits of body language. The extra second of eye contact. All of it.

And I know this interrogation is far from over. I’m just not sure why I care whether or not Wallace believes me anymore. It sure as hell isn’t for my own well-being, so why do I care about Jack’s?

“So, when’s the big day?” Melanie asks in an attempt to defuse the situation.

Poor girl. She has no idea that she just set off another round of ammunition. Drained, I turn to Jacky Boy and let him take the lead.

Go for it, buddy.

“We’re actually eloping this weekend,” he answers her.

My eyes widen.

“Oh, you are?” Wallace’s tone is laced with the same disbelief that I’m sure is painted across my face. “I thought you were having a big wedding?”

“I did too, but Bianca wants something small. Intimate. Just me and her. And how am I to tell the bride no?” Jack stares at Wallace from across the table, daring him to question his decision.

Melanie smiles and pats her husband’s hand. “I think that’s a wise philosophy, Jack. I believe the saying is Happy Wife, Happy Life. Isn’t that right, Wally?”

That same pointed stare holds Jack’s for another brief second before Wallace turns to his wife and presses another quick kiss to her forehead. “Of course. It’s a shame we aren’t invited. I know how much you were looking forward to it.”

“I’m a hopeless romantic,” she explains. “But it’s your day. My only suggestions are to spend it together, write your own vows, and don’t make any promises you don’t intend to keep.”

I reach for my glass and take another sip of wine as her comment marinates for a moment.

“Wise words,” I note, refusing to look at my fiancé.

“I might know a thing or two about love,” she replies. “And I think you two make a lovely couple.”

Jack’s blue gaze caresses the side of my face before I turn to him and hold it with my own. He leans closer, inch by inch, before brushing his lips against mine. It’s sweet. Almost innocent. Yet there’s a weight to it that nearly brings me to my knees.

I’ve never been kissed like this. Without lust. Without expectation. Just…a kiss. A show of affection. A sweet promise that feels so foreign it makes my breath catch in my throat, and I’m left speechless for the first time in my life.

As I pull away, I catch Melanie grinning from ear to ear. The shameless woman doesn’t bat an eye that she’s been caught staring, and I kind of love how easily she owns up to it.

“Alright, now who’s ready for dessert?”

16

Jack

We drive home in silence. I’m exhausted. I feel like I just survived another week of bootcamp and could sleep for a month. That dinner felt a hell of a lot more like an interrogation than a friendly invitation between coworkers. And while I’d mentally