“Jean-Claude, you’re practically glued to her. Would a limousine ride with us be that much of an imposition?”

“I’ve hardly seen Juliet the past few days.” He adjusts his tie in the mirror and fiddles with his hair. “Thanks to Christopher. He has me crushed with work. Connard.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Awfully nasty thing to call your friend.”

“He’s my boss first and foremost, and he’s made sure I know it, with all he’s given me to do.”

“More responsibility generally seems to come with the territory of a promotion, doesn’t it?”

He sighs at his reflection in the mirror. “As usual, you’re naïve about these things, West. He’s doing it on purpose because it separates me from Juliet. He’s incredibly possessive of her.”

“What are you talking about?”

Turning, Jean-Claude faces me. “He has a fucking picture of her on his desk.”

“And I’d bet she’s not alone in that picture.”

His jaw tics. He glances away and pours himself two fingers of whiskey in a lowball glass. “That’s beside the point.”

“It’s not, Jean-Claude. I’m sure he has photos of all the Wilmots because they’re his family. Juliet and Bea are like sisters to him, Bea told me—”

“Of course she did. Because she doesn’t want Juliet with me, either. She wants those two together.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” I stare at him, nearly at a loss for words. “What’s gotten into you?”

“She’s mine,” he says under his breath. “And I’ll be damned if Christopher seduces her behind my back, while he has me killing myself with work like some pathetic underling.”

“Jean-Claude. I think you’re tired. Or stressed. You’re acting paranoid.”

He laughs emptily and swirls his whiskey. “It’s not paranoid when you’re right.”

“How do you know you’re right? Have you addressed these concerns to Juliet? Asked her how she sees Christopher?”

“It’s not her I’m worried about,” he mutters, eyes on his drink. “It’s everyone else. When she’s with me, everything’s fine. It’s—” He brings the glass to his lips. “It’s perfect with her. She’s perfect.” He tips back the glass and drains it.

“You’re already getting started, and you’ll be drinking more at the party,” I remind him. “You can’t drive after that.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Jean-Claude, I’m serious.”

“As am I.” He slams the glass on the counter and sweeps up his phone.

“Be sensible. Ride with us. It might not be your first choice, but Beatrice and Juliet like spending time together. At least Juliet will be happy—”