Page 89 of All's Well that Friends Well
“Oh,” Juliet says, extricating herself from Felix and stepping away. Then she gives him a Vanna White flourish with her arms, gesturing to him and saying, “Like he said, this is Felix. He’s my brother’s friend. So we’ll call him…” She trails off, her eyes darting to Felix, and then she nods. “Averyclose friend of the family.”
I glare at her for a second, specifically at the spot where she’s now looping her arm through his. Then my eyes fly up to hers.
“You’re stooping very low, Miss Marigold,” I say. I edge past the two of them and wrinkle my nose at the unfamiliar scent of cologne that’s masking Juliet’s strawberry shortcake. Then I round my desk, dropping my briefcase unceremoniously on the floor.
Juliet lets go of Felix and waltzes to the other side of the desk, right across from me, and hops up to sit. Her skirt is gray today, slimmer than the pink, and she has on some sort of short-sleeved turtleneck that does incredible things for her figure.
“I’m positive I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” she says innocently as she twists her upper body to face me.
I snort, and from next to the couch, Felix does the same.
“Of course you don’t,” I say, the words flat. My gaze darts to Felix. “I’m sure you’re great and all, but you should go. I need to have a chat with my assistant.”
Felix exhales roughly, running one hand through his hair. “I don’t know about that,” he says. “I only take orders from Jules.” He shoots her another grin. “You understand, I’m sure.”
“Ooh,” Juliet says, leaning closer to me. She points to my face, her eyes brightening. “Are you jealous?” Then she turns back to Felix. “I think it worked,” she says eagerly. “He looks jealous, doesn’t he? Here, come put your arm around me again, and let’s see what happens?—”
“Enough.” I’m standing before I realize it, feeling like the stupidest man in the world. Because I know what she’s doing. I know she’s trying to figure out how I really feel, seeing if I’m jealous—and even knowing these things, I’m still letting her get to me. “That’s enough.”
Felix’s grin slips away into something more genuine—a suppressed, knowing smile. “I’ve got to head out anyway,” he says to Juliet. “I need to call your sister and beg forgiveness for everything I just did.”
“She gave you permission,” Juliet says with a laugh, but Felix shudders.
“It still feels wrong,” he says, and he’s already tugging his phone out of his pocket. He looks over his shoulder on the way out and waves at me. “All tricks aside, it’s good to see you again, man. Jules is great. Be nice to her or we’ll?—”
“Felix,” Juliet hisses, waving her hands wildly to shoo him out of the room. He laughs, a carefree sound, and then slips out the door.
And I’m left with the littlemenacesitting on my desk, the sower of chaos looking at me with big blue eyes and golden hair cascading down her back.
“You were jealous, right?” she says brightly, leaning toward me. She adjusts her position so she can face memore easily. “You looked jealous. That means you like me, Luca.”
I pull my glasses off and scrub one hand down my face. “You’re unbelievable,” I mutter. “At what point did you decide that charade was a good idea?”
“I thought it might be enlightening for you,” she says immediately, not at all repentant. “To show you what you could be missing, or what it would be like to see me with other men. But you didn’t like it, did you? That means you’re jealous.”
“I’m not a caveman, Juliet,” I say, keeping my voice patient even as my pulse pounds angrily in my veins. “You belong to yourself. You can flirt with anyone you want.”
“I cannow, sure,” she says with a nod. “But if you and I start dating, that won’t be the case, will it? I wouldn’t want you acting like that with other women.”
“The audacity,” I breathe faintly, and yet even as the words leave my mouth, a laugh tries to force its way out too. “Never do this again, Miss Marigold. You are banned from trying to make me jealous.” Because it worked, and I feel like an idiot.
Juliet hums, looking suddenly serious. Then she holds up her hand. “On my honor, I promise that I will never try to make you jealous again.”
I clear my throat. “Thank you.”
“However,” she goes on, and I almost groan. “I would like to address a previous ban I was given. You said I wasn’t allowed to wear your clothes ever again. Is there room for negotiation on that?” Her eyes drop to wander over my button-down. “Because I think that shirt would look great on me.”
The picture unfolds in my mind before I can stop it:Juliet stretched out sinuously on my bed, dressed in this shirt, legs bare, hair streaming over my pillow?—
“If we’re going to discuss personal issues in the workplace,” I shoot back, trying desperately to banish the image, “maybe we should talk about how many men call youJules.” I eye her as her brows jump in surprise. “Is that a name everyone uses?”
“Some people do,” she says, leaning closer as a grin hooks her lips. “But I like it best when you say it.” She pauses as I squeeze my eyes shut. “You could call me something else, if you wanted.”
I can already tell where this conversation is going to lead, and I do not have the strength to take that path.
“Sweetheart,” she says before I can change subjects. “Orhoney. Or—I don’t know. I’ve never loved the namebabe,but I might not mind it coming from you?—”
“Miss Marigold.”
