Promise

Chapter 17: At Peace

Robyn

When Francis was promoted to the District Attorney for New York, he did the most Francis Duval thing I'd ever heard of: rented a yacht for the weekend.

"To get away from society," he explained at family dinner.

"Can't you just lock yourself in your room?" Ariadne asked, sincerity in her voice.

"Yes, but then I couldn't invite you all."

"Oh, so we are invited," Christian drawled.

"Begrudgingly." Francis rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

"Bugiardo," I grinned. Liar. "You want us there."

"Please," he scoffed.

"You totally do," Ariadne chuckled. "It's okay, we won't tell anyone you're a softie."

"Oh, I just remembered. You're not invited, Ariadne," Francis deadpanned.

"Too late. I'm already mentally deciding what to wear," she shrugged, unaffected by Francis' empty threat.

"I need a new swimsuit," Bella frowned.

"You absolutely do not need more clothes, papillon," Francis said.

"I need one too." I tapped my chin.

"Sounds like a shopping trip in the making," Ariadne grinned.

"Something you three do best." Damon smirked behind his pint.

Christian pressed his fingers to his closed eyes, shaking his head. "I don't understand why you can't just have people come over, take your measurements, and send clothes straight home."

"Because not all of us live in four-figure tailored Kiton," I smiled.

"You don't like the suits?" He quirked an eyebrow, bumping his knee into mine.

A blush rose to my cheeks. Christian was so classically handsome–symmetrical and proportioned without a single fault–that it didn't matter what he wore. It would look like it was made for him.

"I like the suits. But you could afford a little color in your life."

"Didn't know your art skills passed on to wardrobes," he said.

"Sounds like you're asking for my help." I pressed my knee back into his, slowly realizing we were the only ones talking at the table. "Don't you think, Bella?"

"Wrong person to ask," she said, carefully looking between the two of us. "My husband lives in black."

"Well." I blew some hair out of my face. "None of you are allowed to wear suits this weekend, black or otherwise. Dress code is casual."

"Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to dress in things other than suits," Francis drawled. This was true, he didn't grow up in wealth and was the most normal one of us all.

"So do I." Damon leaned back in his chair. "But I'm not sure about Christian. His idea of casual is a suit without a tie."

"That won't fly," I tsked. "No suits, Christian."

"Or what?" He tilted his head to the side.

"I'll have to strip it off you," I shrugged before quickly biting my lip.

Every single pair of eyebrows in the room shot up.

"Is that a promise?" He played, dark amusement in his eyes.

Being a delicious flirt came naturally to him. Being a victim to his charms came naturally to me.

"That's not what I meant," I said quickly, feeling the heat course through my veins.