“Giving up your freedom already?” he taunted.
The words clawed at me.
“I don’t think you can offer my freedom. It was fun for one night. Thank you for introducing me to your hideout.” I tried to smile, but the reality was suffocating. I was no different than Seraphina. Did he see it? Feel it? I wanted to own my destiny. I wanted to control my fate. My life. My love. I didn’t have that kind of power, neither did his sister. But he did.
I looked away before my voice cracked.
“Kennedy?”
“Hmm?” My eyes drifted toward him again.
“I could drive you home, or I could take you one more place,” he offered. “It’s your decision, but I think we both know Kimble will be hell-bent on keeping an even closer eye on you after tonight. This might be your last night out for a while.”
“It almost sounds as if you hope I’m locked in the tower.” I peered at Knight.
“Hell, no. I just want you to consider that if you’re going to go rogue, you might want to take full advantage of it.”
My father was lying in his room, trying to recover from bronchitis. He was taking enough medication to sleep for a week. He didn’t know I hadn’t returned from the Castille-Corban engagement party. Kimble wouldn’t want him to know he lost me.
I pinched my lips together. “Let me guess. You want to take me back to your place. Show me the spectacular view of New Orleans from your over the top penthouse.”
He clicked his tongue. “No, not at all. But you paint a nice picture.” His eyebrows waggled and my cheeks turned crimson. “I could change the plan I had in mind. Yours sounds better.”
Shit. He was intimidating. A smartass. A playboy.
“Let’s stick to plan A.”
He chuckled. “If you insist.”
“Is it as quaint as this place?” I tested. I had already fallen in love with the French bar.
“Even better.” He grinned.
“All right. If I’m going to face the firing squad over breakfast, I should at least have a good story to tell.” I plucked my beaded clutch in my hand.
“Always my motto.” His lips lowered close to my ear. “Carpe noctem.”
I tilted my eyes toward him slightly. “Seize the night.”
“What else?”
He guided me out of the bar with his hand pressed to my back. It seared as if he wanted to tattoo remnants of the night on my skin. But there weren’t needles. Just protective brushes of his fingertips. I thought I knew exactly what motto he would have chosen to ink along my body.
4
Knight
The windows were down. I looked over as Kennedy lifted the clasp from her hair, loosening the twist and freeing the pins. Her tresses spilled over her shoulders in the wind. Fuck me.
I threw the car into another gear and pressed on the pedal.
It would have been a hell of a lot easier if her father wasn’t part of the new blood moving into town. Kennedy was as defined by her role as I was by mine. I promised her a good time. I would deliver. We could deal with family ties and consequences in the morning.
I saw the confusion on her face when I pulled into the parking lot.
“What is this place?” she asked.
I laughed. “You’ll see.” We had driven farther out of town toward the riverbank. We were in bayou territory.
I walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for her.
“Picnic tables?” Her head tilted.
“You’ve had New Orleans’s finest champagne. Now you need to experience the finest oysters.”
She shook her head as I led her to a table covered with a red and white vinyl cloth. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“Trust me.”
She sat sideways in order to spin and thread her legs over the bench. A string of lights dangled over the table. I climbed in across from her.
I placed the remainder of the champagne bottle on the table from the bar. Marguerite had wrapped and bagged it for me on the way out the door. We waited for a server.
“It’s after midnight. Why is this place still open?” she asked. “And packed.” She looked left and right at the crowded tables.
“I told you. It’s the best.” I ordered a platter of oysters when the waiter arrived and asked for cups.
“You seem so normal,” Kennedy commented. “It’s weird how normal you are. It’s almost scary.”
“I am normal.” I huffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She shook her head. “No. You’re royalty. That makes you abnormal and hardly an impartial judge. I know what royalty means where I come from. In New Orleans it’s an entirely different level. So it’s the French families in power here, not Italian. But the rules are the same.”
I poured our champagne into paper cups. Kennedy’s eyes widened when she saw the oysters on ice arrive.
“You eat this?” she pointed at them.
I winked. “You’ll love them.”
I could tell she was against the platter. She didn’t like how they looked.
“Come here,” I urged her to lean over the table. I topped an oyster with hot sauce and placed it on her tongue.
She cautiously closed her mouth. I waited for the reaction. The distrust turned to a smile.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I cocked my head.
“They’re good.” She nodded. “Really good.”
I laughed. “My work here is done.”
We drank and made our way around the shells on the platter. By the time we finished, we were the only ones still sitting at a table. The place was empty. The server cleared our table, taking the vinyl cover with him. I gave him an extra hundred to leave the lanterns on over our table and to close down the outside restaurant. I wanted to be alone with her. I couldn’t give her total freedom, but I could her a night of it.
“This version of New Orleans isn’t bad.” Kennedy dangled the paper cup between her delicate fingers. She was relaxed. At ease. She wasn’t the same girl
