Black Jack (Advantage Play #5) - Kelsie Rae Page 0,38
prepared for the shitshow, I didn’t realize Embry’s ulterior motive for asking my fiancée to tag along. Because it wasn’t my name on the docket. It was Bianca’s. I still don’t understand why she put her neck out for me. Why she dealt with the questions Embry tossed at her in the first place, let alone handling them like a pro.
Once we kissed, Embry backed off immediately. I’m not sure if it was because his wife was so enamored by it that she would’ve given him shit if he kept asking questions or if it looked genuine enough to throw him off our scent.
Regardless, I can’t stop thinking about it. Not Embry’s response, but Bianca’s. I want to kiss her again. I want to see if she still tastes like wine, if her long eyelashes will flutter like a butterfly’s wings the moment our mouths connect, if she’ll sigh when I pull away.
But I also don’t want to get slapped, and anytime things have gotten remotely physical between us, it’s ended in a fight. And I’m sick of fighting.
Bianca’s nose is in her phone. Her thumb drags along the screen as she scrolls through Instagram, or TikTok, or whatever other time suck she’s interested in. I sigh, then turn off the ignition in front of our place.
Without a word, she climbs out of the passenger side. Her hips sway back and forth in her tight cocktail dress as she enters the building and disappears to the top floor. Dropping my head back, I close my eyes and recount the evening for the thousandth time.
We’re getting married this weekend. The random date slipped out of me before I could stop it, but now I feel like this shitshow is real. That it’s happening. That Bianca and I will be tied together forever, or at least a few years. And Dominic hasn’t even testified yet.
What the hell am I doing?
After I’ve unfolded myself from the car, I trudge inside to the elevator. I should feel lighter, but I don’t. My body moves on autopilot as I press the ‘up’ button before stepping inside the small box that lifts me to the top floor with ease. The master bedroom door taunts me once I’m in our apartment, daring me to knock just so I can see Bianca again. I raise my hand but drop it back to my side and rest my forehead against the solid wood that separates us. A simple thank you sounds pathetic after everything she’s done for me, but apparently, she isn’t a fan of gifts. I’ve already tried that––twice––and they didn’t take.
With a deep breath, I raise my hand again, then tap my knuckles against the door.
Then I wait.
And wait.
Where is she?
“Bianca?” I call out.
“Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
“I’m uh…,” she pauses. “What do you need, Jack?”
Twisting the handle, I push the door open a few inches. “Can I come in?”
“Jack! I’m not decent!”
I close the door again but leave it open an inch so we can still communicate without yelling. “You’re naked?”
Another pause. “Well, no––”
“Then can I come in?”
“Why?” she huffs, exasperated.
I grin and shake my head before pushing open the door the rest of the way. “Because I want to talk to you.”
“Jack!” she shrieks. A damp washcloth hits me square in the chest as a very shy Bianca covers her face in front of the small vanity mirror.
“What?” I laugh before closing the distance between us.
“I was getting ready for bed,” she mumbles into her hands.
“This’ll only take a minute, and”––my brows furrow––“why are you hiding from me?”
“I–I’m not hiding.”
“Bullshit. Are you okay?”
She peeks up at me through her fingers, her entire body vibrating with fear. “Get out of here, Jack––”
“Bianca––”
“Leave, Jack. I’m not even kidding.”
My concern beats out my own self-preservation as I reach forward and pull her hands away from her face. Her glare is almost enough to distract me from finding what she’s hiding from me.
Almost.
I run my finger down the dark purple birthmark painted across her cheek. Her chin lifts a little higher, but that same glare is burning with fury.
“Bianca….” My voice trails off.
“Are you finished?” The bitterness in her voice nearly breaks me.
“Have you always had this?”
“Nope. It just appeared out of thin air while I was taking off my makeup. Crazy, right?”
“Bianca––”
“Are you finished?” she repeats.
I drop my hand from the side of her face but don’t step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t––”
“Know? Yeah. I know you didn’t. Because I’ve worked my ass off to keep it hidden.”
The dark