Page 222 of End Game

I've only met him the once, but there's something immediately familiar about the way he carries himself.

Not because he's exactly like Ronan.

He's not.

Jeremiah's energy has sharper edges. Ronan can walk into a room and take control without seeming to move much at all. Jeremiah feels more like he's consciously keeping something contained.

Today, maybe even more than last time.

His eyes go briefly to Alexis before landing on Ronan and Micah. “You guys ready?”

Ronan nods.

Very calm.

Very normal.

Like he is not being invited upstairs to inspect a professionally equipped room designed for sadism and bondage.

Micah is marginally less convincing.

I catch the look he gives Ronan.

Something passes between them—small and private.

Hot enough that I suddenly become very interested in the fact that they're both going upstairs without me.

I turn toward Alexis.

She narrows her eyes and smiles. “Let them do their testosterone thing first.”

“I'm not—”

“You are absolutely pouting.”

“I am not pouting.”

Ronan looks back at me from the stairs. “You're pouting.”

Traitor.

Micah's mouth curves.

Jeremiah looks between all three of us with an expression that says he's already figured out enough of our dynamic to be entertained.

Carter claps Ronan once on the shoulder. “Come on. Let us show you how irresponsibly we've spent money.”

Jeremiah starts back upstairs. “Most of it was responsible.”

Carter follows him. “See? This is why you two are going to get along.”

Ronan gives me one last look.

Then the four men disappear upstairs.

Alexis taps my arm with her hand. “Come on. Coffee?”

“Yes.”