VANESSA BELMONT JANG
The second the siblings disappeared over the balcony railing, Nathan turned to me with that look - the one that meant I was about to get A Very Serious Talk. I preemptively stuck my finger against his lips.
"Before you start lecturing me about enabling criminals," I said, "just remember that time in Barcelona when you gave that pickpocket kid 50 euros because he 'had honest eyes.'"
Nathan's mouth twitched. "That was different."
"How?"
"He wasn't holding a knife to your throat five minutes earlier."
I waved off his concern. "Details. Besides, did you see her grip? She's left-handed. No way she could've stabbed me effectively."
"That's not—" Nathan cut himself off, running a hand through his hair. "You're impossible."
I grinned and plucked a chocolate from the turned-over nightstand. "And yet you married me."
