Magnus turned quiet, letting the hostility fade away in the silence. But then he picked at the same scab. “We agreed from the very beginning that we would only have small distributors, that we would keep them oppressed so they couldn’t rise up and defy us. But recruiting someone like Napoleon, you’re risking all of that. And who the fuck names themself Napoleon? He’s not even European.”

I kept my eyes on Melanie, practically tuning him out. “We’re expanding. That’s how it works.”

“There’re a lot of other ways to do that…”

I turned to him and couldn’t bite back my retort. “Who’s in charge? Me or you? Better yet, how many times do I have to ask you this question?”

Magnus held my gaze with his own anger then looked away.

Melanie got out of the pool and wrapped herself in the towel waiting for her at the edge. Her hair was pulled back into a bun with gold hoops in her lobes, looking like royalty even when she was swimming.

I watched her round the pool and approach, my heart slowing down more and more at the sight of her. Even from a distance, she gave me peace. She gave slow rivers. Tall mountains. Gentle breezes. Leaves that turned gold in the fall and green in the spring. “Most beautiful woman in the world, isn’t she?”

Instead of holding his tongue, Magnus chose to piss me off. “I disagree.”

I would have looked at him if my gaze weren’t already entranced. I would have grown furious if my heart weren’t embedded in calm. I would have given a damn if I weren’t too busy giving a damn about the gorgeous woman who approached me.

Chérie.

She came to me, wrapped in her towel, and immediately helped herself to my lap before she picked up a slice of cheese off the cheeseboard.

My arms immediately enveloped her and brought her in for a kiss, my hands anxious to touch her despite the wetness and the chlorinated smell. My lips moved to her shoulder and pressed a kiss there as well, worshiping her body with my affection.

Melanie lifted her gaze and looked at Magnus as she ate. “Is Raven okay? You two left suddenly.”

Magnus didn’t look directly at her. “She’s fine.”

She drank from her wineglass, her eyes still drilling into his cheek because she was desperate for her answer. “You’re lying. You and Fender make the same face when you do that.”

Magnus turned and looked at her, his eyes darkening in annoyance. “I’m not lying. She’s fine.”

She wouldn’t let it go—like always. “Maybe now she’s fine, but she wasn’t.”

I didn’t want to spend any more time talking about that infuriating woman. “She wasn’t feeling well. Supposedly.”