“Tell me again why I need to meet with your clan’s judge?” Turner buttoned up his dress shirt. “Is that like a pre-citizenship interview?”

Bridget handed him one of his ties, the dark blue one with thin gray stripes.

How the hell was she going to explain it? Kian’s demand for Turner to undergo Edna’s probe was strange, to say the least. He hadn’t asked her to do so when he’d first hired Turner, relying on Andrew’s recommendations and his own gut instinct to entrust Victor with the knowledge of immortals’ existence.

What had changed?

What was he trying to find out now?

Perhaps Kian was reassessing his decision to trust Victor?

“Frankly, I don’t know. I think Kian’s paranoia is getting worse.” She looped the tie around Victor’s neck and tied the knot.

“What has seeing the judge got to do with paranoia?”

Crap, she wanted to avoid that part. It would be much more difficult for Victor to refuse the probe once they were there. If she told him now, he might decide not to go, and then they would have to have the unpleasant discussion about his induction ceremony depending on his cooperation with Kian’s latest craziness.

“Edna is an excellent judge of character. Kian might be second-guessing his decision to trust you with our secrets and wants Edna’s opinion.”

Turner shrugged on his suit jacket, adjusted his shirt collar, and smoothed his hand over the tie. “How do I look? Do you think the judge will be impressed?”

“She’d better.” Bridget kissed his cheek. “You look very handsome.”

“You forgot to mention suave.”

“Naturally. You look very suave too.”

In fact, since stopping the chemo, Turner looked great—healthy. It was an illusion because he wasn’t. Nevertheless, she didn’t have the heart to insist on him resuming the treatment, and she was too much of a coward to put him through a battery of tests to check if his condition had improved or worsened, or whether he was stable.

That was why doctors should never treat family. But asking Turner to see his regular doctor was futile. He wouldn’t go. Not until he tried to transition and nothing happened, which was the most likely result.

Roni, who was young and an excellent candidate, couldn’t transition while sick. Turner’s belief that he was special and would transition by some miracle was completely irrational. It baffled her how a man who worshiped logic could allow himself such wishful thinking.

Before leaving their apartment, Bridget took a last glance at the mirror and fluffed up her hair.

“You look beautiful,” Victor said as he closed the door behind her and locked it.

“Thank you.”

Living outside the keep was an adjustment. Bridget wasn’t used to locking her front door. Victor’s building was secure, but she still had her online orders delivered to the keep. Nothing ever got lost at the guard station downstairs.

He shrugged. “No need to thank me. It wasn’t a compliment. It was a statement of fact.”

Arguing with Victor about such nuances was futile. He just didn’t get them. “It must be the dress. Do you like it?”

“I wasn’t talking about the dress, but now that you mention it, let me take another look.” He waited for the elevator doors to close before turning her around to face the mirror and standing behind her.

“I like how it hugs your curves.” He smoothed his hands down her sides, eliciting a delightful shiver.

She leaned back against him. “I’m surprised it fits so well. I ordered it online.”

Buying the dress had nothing to do with the interview, but since Victor had chosen to wear a suit, Bridget couldn’t show up in her everyday clothes and had decided to dress up, including putting on high heels. Not that Edna would be impressed by any of it. Her eyes usually ignored the outer layer and went straight down to the soul.

What was she going to see in Victor’s?

He was a good man. After all, he was in the business of saving people’s lives. In her opinion, the fact that he was being paid for his rescue services was irrelevant. There were easier ways to earn a living.

Training Roni was a point in Victor’s favor too. What he was doing for the kid was much more than martial arts coaching; he was offering his friendship, which was a big deal for both of them.

“How is your training with Roni going?” Bridget asked as Victor pulled the Tesla out into the street.

“Good. I enjoy it.”

Since they’d moved into his apartment, he was slacking on his evasive maneuvers protocol, still driving through the mall’s parking lot on his way to and from the keep but no longer switching cars.

Bridget wondered what had caused the change. It couldn't have been Junior’s capture. The guy was an amateur compared to Turner’s other enemies.

But Victor had changed after the incident.

Her cerebral man was no longer relying solely on pure logic. He was putting more and more faith in fate. It could not have been her influence because Bridget seldom invoked the Fates, and Turner didn’t hang out with other immortals enough to absorb their beliefs.

It was all him. Her rock was crumbling.

“Is Roni improving?”

“He is not an athlete, that’s for sure. But I like spending time with him. I like his snarky sense of humor.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t bail out of it after returning to your more professional martial arts classes.”

“I made the kid a promise. Besides, as I said before, I enjoy his company, and you know how rare that is for me. Other than you, and now Roni, I don’t like spending too much time with people.”

“What about Brian? I would think you guys were close, especially after going out on a romantic lunch date and then going shopping together.”

She’d laughed herself into hiccups when Victor had told her about Brian’s courtship tutoring.

Victor grimaced. “After that fiasco, I really don’t want to see him. Now, every time we meet, he has this knowing smirk on his face that irritates the hell out of me. I go out of my way to limit our communications to online correspondence. Except, some things need to be done face to face. I don’t trust the internet, not even with the best safety protocols employed.”

Brian sounded like a hoot, and it would benefit Turner to pull the stick out of his butt and embrace humor.

“Can we invite him over? He’s already been to your apartment. Don’t you want to show him what you’ve done with it?”

“What Ingrid has done with it. I only wrote the checks.”

He was doing his redirecting and evading thing, but it wasn’t going to work on her.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t want to invite Brian, but I know you won’t let it rest until I do. When should I tell him is a good time?”

“Any time this week is good. Next week we are going to Douglas’s wedding. Which reminds me that I still didn’t buy a dress. I would’ve ordered online, but Amanda convinced me to visit her favorite boutique. She said they make speedy alterations and everything will fit perfectly, which is rarely the case with the things I order. How about you? Did you try your tux on?”

“No.”

“So how do you know it still fits?”

“It fits.” Victor parked the car and killed the engine.

Men. Bridget rolled her eyes. “You are trying it on as soon as we are done here.”

“I don’t have it with me.”

Fates, please give me patience.

“As soon as we get back home.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He winked.