Page 129 of The Exit Strategy

Welcome to the game, Junie.

This time, I’ve come to win.

She watches as I move around the kitchen, open the bottle of wine, and pour two glasses. I soak in the tenable energy that clicks, catches, and redirects between us.

This is how we work. Somewhere between the shots fired, we’ve always existed behind a shield that was created just for us.

I hand her the glass but don’t let go until she lifts her gaze to mine. Her plump, kissable lips are a distraction, but Iforce my focus on her eyes because, unlike those fucking lips, her eyes don’t lie.

“Cheers,” I say. “To beginning again.”

She frowns, glances down at the empty plate before her, then lifts her chin. When I release her glass, she holds it up in silent agreement.

Silent, but it’s still an acknowledgment of what this is.

I leave her to her thoughts while I place all the dishes on the table. I could’ve positioned us so we were each on an end, but I wanted to be close to her, so I set the table with one place at the end and one just to the left.

It’s no surprise that Junie chooses the head of the table. Honestly, it doesn’t fucking matter to me where I sit as long as I’m next to her, so I sink into the empty place setting and dish out the food.

A few moments later, a low moan slips from her mouth, and I lift a brow.

“This is annoying,” she mutters, further ratcheting up my interest in how tonight will play out.

“What is?” I place another bite of manicotti into my mouth. The flavors, thankfully, are amazing. As is the chunk of sausage I spear next.

“How is this so good? I thought I’d get to spend the entire meal mocking you.”

A bark of laughter overpowers the low hum of background music I have playing in surround sound. “Better luck next time.”

“I even prepared material.”

Not surprising. “Deploy it. Give me your best shot. I’ll even take notes.”

“It’s dry,” she says casually.

It’s not.

“Try again,” I say, wearing a smile that makes my cheeks hurt.

“I think I’m getting food poisoning.”

“I have a list of all ingredients used. The doctors will be able to suss out all your ailments quickly.”

“Ugh. See? I’ve got nothing. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“Somehow I ended up on the Italian cooking side of Instagram Reels.”

“You’re not on Instagram. I mean…” She scans the exits, and my interest is officially fucking piqued. “Are you?”

Juniper Mercer doesn’t make mistakes, but she’s just slipped, and watching her squirm is more fun than I thought it would be.

“Junie, have you been cyber-stalking me?”

“Ugh,” she scoffs. “No, but since Fen tags me in literally everything, I figured if you were on Instagram, I would’ve seen it. You know, through him.”

“Right. Through him.” I stuff my mouth full of manicotti. She’s right—this is fucking good.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” she sasses, “I’m off social media. I wouldn’t know if you were dancing naked in Barbados or posting cat videos. I don’t follow you.”