The Lovewin family luncheon was a delicate affair—linen napkins, crystal glasses, and enough passive-aggression to sink a yacht club. Luka arrived late, fashionable and frosted with disapproval, scanning the garden like a hawk in couture.
His eyes flicked from aunt to uncle, skipping over second cousins and investment bros, until they landed—there. Seated beneath the shade of a pear tree, demure and masked, was Rachel.
She sat with her hands folded in her lap, drinking tea like it was a statement of intent.
Luka approached, one brow arching like a blade being unsheathed.
"Darling sister-in-law," he purred, sliding into the chair beside her. "We need to talk. About Ryan."
Rachel's eyes sparkled behind her mask, though her voice remained cool. "You look like someone who's about to make a scene."
"I will—if I must," Luka said, unapologetically. "Luna is beside himself. And I mean wrecked. Sobbing. Shaking. I don't think even probing hime with pain au chocolat will work to get him out of his duvet burrito."
Rachel sipped her tea, unbothered. "And you think this is Ryan's fault?"
Luka's lip curled slightly. "Don't you?"
Rachel tilted her head thoughtfully. "I think… the heart is complicated. And so are boys who wear too many layers."
Luka gave her a withering stare.
Rachel sighed. "I really don't mind what's happening between the three of us. Truly. But if it will put your mind at ease—" She slipped a slim, black pen from the folds of her skirt and scribbled something on a napkin. "Here. That's Ryan's number. Text him that I sent you, and I'll tell Ryan to meet you."
Luka blinked. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." Her voice was all honey and glass. "He's working tonight. If you go to this location"—she tapped the napkin—"at that time, I guarantee you'll find him."
Luka folded the napkin with dangerous precision and tucked it into his breast pocket. "Thank you, Rachel. I owe you."
And with that, Luka stood, kissed her gloved hand with exaggerated flourish, and swept off toward the house, already composing a list of righteous things to say when he saw this leather-wrapped, no-boundaries, bad-decision-making Ryan.
As Luka hurried off, heading back to his car to return to Luna's side, Rachel peeled down her mask and took another little sip as she watched his retreating figure.
Rachel smiled cryptically. "Oh, don't worry. You'll pay."
After her tea was finished, Rachel rose from her seat as well.
Time to go to work.
Time to dropthe mask.
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