“The part where your girl’s sister is tagging along.”
I arch a brow. “Since when do you give a damn?”
Griffin snaps, “Since Sylas won’t shut up about her.”
I bite back a smirk. I’ve known my best friend my whole life. And if I’ve ever seen him off his game, it’s now. “Tiana does a good job with him. Admit it.”
Silence. Then, through gritted teeth, “That’s not the point.”
But itis. Because for a man who’s built his reputation on not giving a damn about women, Griffin seems rattled. And that makes me suspicious.
“You sound pissed. You sure this isn’t about something else?”
His growl is answer enough, and I exhale a laugh through my nose. Paris is already complicated, and we haven’t even left yet.
When we all arrive on the private tarmac, the driver opens my door, and the cool wind cuts across my face.
Mya emerges from another car, clutching her bag, hair whipping around her cheeks. She looks up at me as we start walking toward the plane.
Griffin strides ahead, all long legs and bad attitude, barking something into his phone before snapping it shut. He’s muttering by the time he climbs the stairs, and I know exactly why.
When I board after my future wife, Tiana is already curled into one of the wide leather seats, legs crossed, phone lifted at just the right angle to catch the cabin light.
The first thing out of Griffin’s mouth is a grumble. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Tiana doesn’t bother looking up. She just rolls her eyes and turns her chin to catch the light better.
I bite back a laugh.Apparently, the dramatic eye roll is a family thing.
Griffin drops into the seat opposite her with a scowl. “You here to witness or to pose?”
Tiana turns her gaze over him, unimpressed. “Can’t it be both?” She flashes a grin and goes right back to her phone.
His grunt is low, venomous. She hums to herself like she doesn’t hear it.
I shake my head, amused, before guiding Mya toward the seats on the other side. “Sit here.”
She arches a brow. “Why?”
“In case anyone on staff decides to gossip later.” I let my hand hover at her back, not quite touching. “Better they see us together. Let them carry the right story.”
Her mouth opens, as if wanting to argue, but then she sits. Our thighs brush, though neither of us moves away.
The attendant brings champagne. I take two glasses, handing Mya one. She tries to refuse, but I press it into her hand. “Get used to it. You’re about to be my wife. Paris won’t be the last time you’re spoiled.”
Her eyes narrow, though she sips anyway, muttering something about me being insufferable. I smirk into my own glass.
Across the aisle, Griffin finally snaps, “So this is it? Drag me halfway across the world to watch you play house?”
“Not play.” I swirl the champagne lazily in my glass. “Marry.”
Griffin’s jaw ticks and Tiana’s brows lift in amusement. He shoots her a glare that only makes her grin wider.
I open my briefcase and slide a folder onto the table. “Here’s the plan.”
Mya blinks at me. “You actually wrote out a fake proposal presentation?”
“Optics matter,” I say. My eyes trace her mouth, not the papers. “And no one questions a man who puts a ring on the woman he can’t keep his hands off.”