“Thank you,” Dev said into the phone. “We appreciate the call.” There was a pause while Lucian scratched at his brow with his middle finger. Dev frowned. “Yes. If we need anything, we’ll be sure to let you know.” He ended the call. “That was mature.”

Lucian grinned. “I thought so myself.”

Raising a brow, Dev sat back in his chair. “The phone will not stop ringing.”

Dev had handled the well-wishers, the phone calls, the guests, and the press like he’d been born for it. And he had been. Assuming the role of the head of the family, the head of the business was what he’d been waiting for.

What they all had been waiting for.

But Lucian wasn’t here to discuss how amazing Dev was at taking on the role of head asshole in charge. “I wanted to run something past you.”

“Why do I have a feeling that running something past me means you’re going to do something no matter what I think?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps there’s some kind of statistic supporting that belief.”

“Perhaps,” Dev murmured, gesturing for him to continue as he reached for his glass.

“I’m thinking about inviting Daniel over to spend time with Maddie. I think it would help.” Lucian had told both his brothers about Daniel’s appearance shortly after he’d found out. Neither were all that thrilled. “And no matter how annoying he is, it couldn’t hurt.”

Dev worked his jaw after swallowing the whiskey. “I’d rather have a rabid kangaroo in the house than Daniel.”

His forehead creased. “Can kangaroos get rabies?”

“I don’t know, but I imagine Daniel is about as destructive as a kangaroo in a china shop with rabies,” Dev replied, and Lucian wondered if his brother was slightly drunk. “I know you’re already going to do this. When?”

Lucian shifted in the seat, keeping his feet on the edge of Dev’s desk. “Sunday. You won’t be here.”

“Perfect.” Dev paused. “This is all on you. If he causes problems . . .”

“I know. I’ll handle it.” Lucian lowered a hand to the arm of the chair. “Speaking of problems. Any updates from the police?”

“I spoke with Troy earlier. I believe he will be removed from the investigation due to our friendship,” Dev explained, swirling the liquid in his glass. “The chief hasn’t spoken to me yet.”

“Lawyers blocking him?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Dev’s lips. “Of course. I’m not worried.”

Lucian frowned. “You’ve seemed worried before.”

Dev lifted his gaze to Lucian. “That was before.”

“You’re not worried that the fact that they’re investigating his death is going to get out to the press?” Disbelief thundered through Lucian. All his brother ever cared about was how people viewed the family. “I’m just waiting for the chief to make a public announcement. This kind of thing could make his career.”

Dev smiled then, the tilt of his lips cold as a freshly dug grave. “Or this kind of thing could . . . end his career.”

Julia was a nervous wreck as she showered and got ready for the not-a-date-dinner-date with Lucian and Gabe. Washing and then conditioning her hair twice sure felt like she was preparing for a date. She even shaved, because . . . because of reasons she didn’t want think about.

She tried to think about anything other than what she was getting ready for. Her mind kept wandering back to that slip of paper she’d found last night. Who could’ve written that? Had it been meant for Madeline, and if so, how did it get there?

Some of the books were older—decades old. Maybe she’d slipped it in one as a bookmark? Julia wasn’t sure, but she’d placed it back on the stand, under the magazines and books.

She planned on asking Lucian about it, but she hadn’t seen him since he’d asked her to dinner. Not once since yesterday morning, which was odd since he was normally around every corner. She wouldn’t have known if he’d been in the house if she hadn’t checked in on Madeline this morning, and heard him in there reading to her.

Julia had chickened out and darted back down the hallway instead of coming face-to-face with him, you know, like an adult would.

When she’d returned to Madeline’s room just before lunch, Lucian was gone. Truthfully, if she wasn’t in the same house with him, she’d probably cancel dinner out of pure anxiety.

But that wasn’t an option.

As she dried her hair and curled the long strands into loose waves, she battled it out with her conscience, common sense, and hormones. She was like a recipe for bad life choice brownies. Twenty-five percent of her knew she shouldn’t be mixing business with whatever this was. Another twenty-five percent said that going out tonight was a huge mistake that was probably going to lead to a whole slew of other mistakes.

The remaining fifty percent was wondering if she should wear panties or not?

She rolled her eyes at her reflection, knowing damn well she was going to wear panties.

Finishing applying the last bit of mascara, she decided to stop freaking out and . . . and well, whatever happened would happen. That was her plan. She wasn’t going to stress about it for a second longer.

“Oh gosh,” she whispered to her reflection. That was the crappiest plan known to history, but that was all she had.

But she did manage to pull off a smoky eye for once in her life.

Pushing away from the counter, she fingered the sash on her robe as she glanced at the shower. She couldn’t help but think about the shadow she’d seen. Her head barely hurt now, but every time she showered, she was almost too afraid to close her eyes.

More terrified to keep them open.

Shivering, she opened up the bathroom door and halted as soon as her gaze landed on the bed. Resting in the center of the bed was a large white box with a black bow.

“What the . . . ?”

The box had most definitely not been there when she went into the bathroom. Her narrowed gaze shot to the doors. All of them were closed and she’d locked them.

She knew she had, because after her doors’ opening in the middle of the night, she’d double-checked them.

Approaching the box slowly, she carefully picked it up and scooted it to the edge of the bed. Julia tucked the left side of her hair back and then took a deep breath, catching the silky bow along the bottom and unraveling the ribbon. It fell to the side.

Julia gripped the edges of the lid and lifted, leaning back as if a cobra was waiting inside to strike.

No cobra.

Just eons of black tissue paper.

Brushing the thin paper aside, she gasped as she saw what was inside. Definitely not a cobra, but something just as dangerous.

It was a splash of crimson in a sea of black. A gown was nestled inside the box, and not the kind of dress she’d buy herself at Old Navy. Without even touching it, she could tell it was constructed out of the finest material; the kind she probably couldn’t even name because she never had enough money to even shop wherever these types of dresses were sold.

For a moment, she almost didn’t want to touch it for fear of ruining it with her grubby fingers, but then the inner girl kicked in, and she sprang forward.

Snatching the dress, she pulled it out of the box. The thing was stunning. Flirty sleeves and a beaded, heart-shaped neckline, the gown had a high waist, one that would cinch right under the breasts.

“Holy crap,” she whispered, stepping back from the bed and holding the delicate sleeves to her shoulders. The skirt reached just below her knees.

It was simply a thing of beauty, and the last time she’d worn anything this nice had to have been her wedding.

Could she wear this, though?

Lowering the dress, she stared down at it. There was no price tag, but she doubted it cost the same as what she’d normally pay for clothes. It was obviously a gift—

A peek of crimson was still visible in the box. Draping the dress over one arm, she leaned forward and peeled back the rest of the tissue paper, and laughed.

Strappy, red heels.

That’s when she saw the note. Picking it up, she turned the linen-colored card over.

Firestones is formal. Wanted you to be prepared.

The handwriting was beautiful, nothing like the note she’d found before. Julia didn’t know why, but she laughed again. “This is . . . insane.”

She was shaking her head, but she was grinning as she scooped the heels up and placed them on the bed beside the box.

There was only one person who would’ve gotten her this dress and shoes.

Lucifer.

Buying her this dress without her permission was so entirely aggressive, so completely him. It reeked of arrogance and control, and yet, it was oddly thoughtful at the same time.

Part of her didn’t want him buying her clothes. That was way too intimate. The other part of her couldn’t wait to try it on.

Placing the dress on the bed, she quickly shed the robe and slipped on a set of panties and bra, both red to match the gown. It was a rare matching set. She picked up the dress and slipped it on.

It fit.

Goodness, it fit perfectly, and she didn’t even want to consider how Lucian was able to find this dress and make sure it fit like it was tailored just for her body.

Lucian shouldn’t have dared to buy her this gown or shoes. It was yet another inappropriate thing added to a long list of inappropriate things they were both responsible for.

But she was going to wear it.

Tugging on the heels, she turned slowly in front of the bathroom mirror, feeling like a cheesy Cinderella. Her reflection caught her attention.

Julia barely recognized herself.

Her heart was fluttering wildly as she smoothed her hands down the flattering supple material. Never in a million years would she picture herself in such a form-fitting dress and feel . . . feel absolutely confident and beautiful in it.

“All right,” she said, swallowing down a sudden messy knot of emotion that literally came out of nowhere.

Blinking back tears, she left the bathroom and snatched up her purse. She guessed she was going to meet the brothers downstairs. Stopping at the door, she collected her suddenly wild emotions, got them under control and then walked out of the bedroom. She’d made it only a few steps before the door to Lucian’s rooms opened.

Julia’s first look at him had her stomach dipping like she was on a roller coaster. He was stunning, dressed like he had been to his father’s memorial minus the tie and jacket. He wore a white dress shirt and dark, tailored pants. His hair was dry, styled back from his face, but she had a feeling some of those wilder, curlier waves would fall forward before the evening was done.

She’d thought it before and she knew she’d think it a dozen times from now, but Lucian de Vincent was almost so beautiful he didn’t seem real to her.

Her steps slowed as she approached him. It was only then that she realized he was staring at her just as intently as she was him. A wave of shivers danced all over her skin as his gaze roamed from her eyes all the way down to the tips of her shoes.

“Damn,” he murmured, dragging his gaze back up to her face. “Ms. Hughes, you’re absolutely breathtaking. Do you know that? Breathtaking.”

She felt her face heat. “Thank you.” Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his. “And thank you for the dress and shoes.”

“You like?” He stepped into her. “I have to say I knew you would look amazing in red.”

Her heart was trying to claw its way out of her chest. “I do appreciate it, but you shouldn’t buy me something like this.”

“And why not?” He lifted a hand, trailing his fingers down the length of her hair, catching the ends. “A beautiful woman deserves beautiful things.”

“That’s a pretty nice line I’m sure you’ve read somewhere, but it’s not—”

“Appropriate? You not wearing this dress would’ve been inappropriate.” He spread the strands out over her arm. “And it wasn’t a line I read somewhere. It was a thought that I decided to speak out loud.”

“Okay then,” she said, wholly aware of the tips of his fingers lingering on her upper arm. She stepped back. “But don’t buy me things like that if you don’t have my permission.”

He cocked his head to the side, the expression on his face seriously leaving her to wonder if that was a foreign concept to him. “So, I can buy you pretty things as long as I have your permission?”

Julia frowned. That wasn’t what she was saying at all.

“I will remember that.” His lips curved up in a smile. “You ready?”

It wasn’t so much of a question, but she nodded anyway, even though she was nowhere near ready in the ways she needed to be.

Lucian could barely keep his eyes off Julia as they walked down to the main floor. He wasn’t the only one having that issue. Gabe hadn’t stopped checking her out either.

Maybe the dress had been a bad idea, because all he wanted to do was strip her out of it.

She stood between them in the warm early evening air, one hand folded over her forearm.

Gabe was cajoling her with the list of dishes the Firestones offered while Lucian tracked every line of her face and curve of her body. “You have to try their crawfish étouffée. It’s amazing.”

“I’ve actually never tried crawfish.”

“Well, we’re going to have to change that tonight.” He glanced over at Lucian. “Make tonight a . . . night of firsts for Julia.”

Lucian raised a brow.

Looking over her shoulder at him, Julia dipped her chin. “Do you . . . like seafood?”

With her attention on him, he moved closer to her back. “You’ll discover that there is a raging debate on if crawfish is considered seafood or not, but, yes, I like all food.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Gabe replied, shifting so he stood in front of her. “Lucian is not a fan of any food that is green.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Well . . .” He placed his hand on her shoulder, relieved when she didn’t come out of her skin at the contact. “Are vegetables really food?”

Julia shook her head. “I think—whoa.” She stiffened. “Is that for us?”

Lucian looked up, spying the black limo coming up the paved roundabout. “I sure hope so, since it’s ours.”

“I sent it out to be detailed.” Gabe brushed his hair back. “It’s been a while since we’ve used it.”

Julia’s mouth worked with no sound for a few seconds. “Are you guys serious? You normally get driven around in a limo?”

“Yes.” Lucian slipped his hand down to her lower back. “It’s quite normal.”

The limo pulled up to the front steps, and Gabe stepped down. “I wouldn’t say we take it often for a spin, but tonight is special.” He opened up the back door. “We’re going to show you how we live.”

Julia hesitated, and Lucian could practically feel her growing unease. “What is it?” he asked, voice low.

“I . . . this is all overwhelming,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I’m not used to this—any of this.”

The sudden need to comfort her filled him, and for a moment, he couldn’t move or speak. His entire life he’d only ever felt the need to really comfort his mother and sister. Not even his brothers.

It was a strange sensation for him.

But he . . . welcomed it.

“We can take another car, if you want.” He placed his fingers under her chin, guiding her gaze to his. “If you want to order pizza, we can.”

“Order pizza?” She laughed.

“If that’s what you want,” he said, and he meant it. He’d do whatever she wanted. “You tell me.”

Julia looked away after a few moments, his fingers slipping off her chin. She drew in a deep breath. “No. I’m just being dumb. Let’s do this.”

“You’re not being dumb.”

She pressed those pretty pink lips together. “You sure about that? Most people would be jumping up and down with excitement to get to ride in a limo.”

“I don’t care about most people.” And he meant that.

“It’s okay. I’m ready.”

“You sure about that? I can hold your hand if you want.”

Julia rolled her eyes.

With his hand on her lower back, he leaned over and spoke into her ear. “If you take my hand, Ms. Hughes, I may not let go. Just letting you know.”

He felt her shiver as he slid his hand to her hip. “And I’m letting you know that it will be my choice if I took your hand.” She paused, looking at him. “Or anyone else’s hand.”

“I don’t think you’ll notice anyone else,” he said to her, and then straightened as Gabe opened the limo door.

Julia stepped forward, shooting him a tight smile as she offered her hand to Gabe. She arched a brow and then faced Gabe. His brother helped her into the backseat.

Tilting his head back, he laughed deeply. Damn, she was fun. And she was . . . she was something else entirely.

Gabe winked at him and he slid into the limo. Lucian got his ass moving, coming down the front steps. Climbing in, he was relieved to see Gabe had planted himself in the seat across from Julia. At least, he wasn’t going to have to physically remove his brother.

Of course, Lucian sat right next to Julia.

“We’re ready, Denny,” Gabe said through the window. “Sorry about the delay.”

“No problem,” came the response.

Lucian glanced over at Julia. With wide eyes, she was currently scanning every inch of the roomy interior, from the stocked bar to the leather seats. When the dividing window slid shut, she looked like she wanted to laugh.

“Is this the first time you’ve been in a limo?” Gabe asked.

Julia blinked as she folded her hands in her lap, over the small purse she carried with her. “I’ve been in one before, but nothing like this.” She paused. “Is that real wood?”

“Yeah,” Gabe answered, grinning. “I actually did the woodwork myself. Would you like something to drink?”

“Um . . .” She nodded and then said, “Sure.”

Gabe moved over to the bar. A bottle of whiskey came out.

“Let’s start with something lighter,” Lucian told his brother. “How does champagne sound? I think we have some Krug.”

“That we do.” Gabe dug out the bottle and quickly popped the top, causing Julia to jump. Grinning, Gabe filled up three flutes and handed them out.

Lucian extended his arm along the back of the seat. She peeked over at him, but didn’t move. “He’s big with the whole working with his hands things.”

“So are you,” Gabe replied, stretching out his legs. His shoes were now next to Julia’s.

“Do you work with the wood, too?” she asked, sipping the champagne.

He chuckled. “No. No, way.”

“You don’t know?” Gabe knocked his feet off Julia’s, gaining her attention.

“Know what?” she asked.

His gaze slid Lucian. “You haven’t told her?”

He raised one shoulder.

“I have no idea what you two are talking about.” Her gaze bounced between the two.

“Little brother is very talented.” A smile played across Gabe’s mouth as he eyed Lucian. “You see, Madeline is not the only artist in the family.”

She looked over at him. “You paint?”

Catching a strand of her hair with his fingers, he nodded. “I’ve been known to dabble a time or two.”

“Dabble?” Gabe laughed. “Are you actually being modest?”

“Would I be anything else?”

His brother smirked as he refocused on her. “Lucian has made a fortune on his paintings. They’re hung all over the world, in private homes and in museums.”

“What?” Julia stared at him like she was surprised he knew how to color between the lines.

“Are you that shocked?” He tugged lightly on her hair. “My career of debauchery does allow me a lot of free time.”

Her lips twitched as she reached around, freeing her hair from his grasp. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Why would I? Pretty sure I talk about myself enough.”

Gabe laughed.

“Are there any of your paintings in the house?”

“A few.” He found another piece of hair. “We can play a game later. You guess which ones are mine.”

“That sounds like a stimulating game.” Gabe eyed them over his glass. “Can I play?”

“No,” Lucian said. “Because that wouldn’t be fair to Ms. Hughes, now would it?”

“For some reason, I don’t think any of you play any games fairly,” Julia commented dryly.

Gabe lifted his brows. “Wow. She’s already onto us.”

That she was, Lucian thought as he threaded the strand of her hair around his finger. As they grew closer to the city, Gabe lowered the blackout on the windows so she could see the glittering lights. From that point she was plastered to the window, the nearly empty glass dangled forgotten from her fingers.

Traffic slowed them down as they hit Canal Street. The sound of music and shouts, of horns blowing and laughter mingled with the varying scents of the city that rolled in through the open windows. Lucian forgot all about his brother. His entire being was focused on Julia.

She was practically humming with excitement as she took in the magic of the city, whipping around toward them when she spotted the sign for Bourbon Street.

“We’re going to skip Bourbon,” Gabe told her, his mouth setting in a fond smile. “But this is the scenic route to where we’re going. We’ll drive through a part of the Quarter here in a few moments.”

“Are we not eating in the French Quarter?”

“No.” Lucian’s gaze traveled down the length of one curvy leg. “We leave the Quarter for the tourists, but I think you’ll enjoy where we’re heading.”

Firestone’s was several blocks down Canal, off of Gravier Street, and over near the business district, in one of the recently reimagined warehouses. Denny gave her the scenic route, though, cutting down Royal and then coming back up on Decatur so Julia could see some of the older hotels with the wrought iron-balconies and older buildings.

Navigating the streets was an operation of restraint. Crowds of people spilled out from the bars, following the narrow sidewalks and streets. They were seriously going to need to give Denny an extraordinary tip for this trip. The kind of patience it required to drive these streets on a Saturday night was something only the few, the proud, and the brave could handle.

But it was worth it to see Julia’s face light up.

“We’re here,” Gabe announced as Denny pulled the limo up to the curb.

Julia pulled herself away from the window and looked down at her glass.

“Just put it on the bar,” Lucian said while Gabe opened the door and climbed out. “It’ll be taken care of.”

She did that and then leaned forward, saying thank you to Denny through the window.

Lucian stepped out of the car and turned as Gabe waited on the curb, under the rippling red awning, watching them. Lucian extended his hand as Julia scooted across the seat. She reached the open door, her wide brown eyes moving from his face to his hand as she lifted her chin.

Julia obviously remembered what he’d said before they’d left the house.

“Ms. Hughes?” he said quietly.

She seemed to draw in a deep breath, come to some decision while his heart weirdly kicked around in his chest, and then, almost so slowly that it was painful, she placed her hand in his.

Lucian smiled.