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Cillian faced off with Raphael for all of one-point-five seconds. Then he dropped his eyes to his plate like the spineless coward that he was. “Aye.”
I waited for Raphael’s correction of my sharp tongue, but it never came.
He turned to Liam. “My brother—where is he?”
Liam’s gaze lingered on me for a beat before he gave his boss his full attention. “Keegs said Lucifer got right twisted last night, Boss. Slept in his office down at the club.”
Raphael laughed low and easy. “Why my brother can’t just bring a wh—woman home like a grown-ass man is beyond me. He’s not fucking fifteen.”
A bite of English muffin got lodged somewhere in my throat, and I barked out a choking cough. Three sets of eyes landed on me, but it was Liam who reached across the table to hand me my glass. Raphael asked if I was okay, but I waved him off with a wiggle of my fingers while I gulped the ice water.
Once it was confirmed my death wasn’t imminent, Liam rattled on, “Nah. You got it wrong, Boss. T’wasn’t Hannah he was bangin’—it was his fist into the face of some fucker down in the Octagon.”
Seconds ticked by.The scraping of Cillian’s fork against his plate was the only sound in the otherwise silent kitchen. I hadn’t a clue what my future husband was ruminating on, but I guessed it wasn’t the fact that his twin had a woman in his life and her name was Hannah.
Something in the doorway caught Liam’s attention. “Bullocks. Look what the fucking cat threw up.”
Lucifer had entered the kitchen, going straight for the coffee pot and not sparing anyone a greeting or a glance.
I drew in a sharp breath. Why did he have to look like that? Then I remembered that was all part of his trickery. His allure. He was a skulking, brooding sin.
His hair was still damp as though freshly showered. The white T-shirt stretched across his broad frame was meant to conceal what was hidden underneath, but all it did was heighten my awareness of the way the material barely contained his muscular physique.
I itched for a glimpse of his tattoo and wondered when I’d get my chance to confirm that Raphael had a similar design on his flesh.
Blue jeans hung low on Lucifer’s hips and hugged his strong thighs, but it was the bare feet and a flashback to that morning in the garden—to early days and happier times spent with my da—that had me pushing away from the table. The memories were too raw to withstand being in Lucifer’s presence a moment longer.
“Sit. You haven’t even touched your mimosa yet.” Raphael’s gaze raked over me. His tone bordered on firm, but his stare was neither predatory nor intimidating.
My eyes drifted to the spot where Lucifer now leaned against the kitchen counter, lifting a steaming cup to his lips. He sported a raised lump across one cheekbone that hadn’t been there last night, and I’m pretty sure his lip was split based on the way he winced as he pressed it to the ceramic rim.
“Ah, I see.” Raphael smirked. “Don’t let Lucifer scare you off. He’s harmless ... unless, that is, I tell him not to be,” he added with what could have been interpreted as a hint of warning.
My palms turned clammy.
“Brother, stop terrorizing your future sister-in-law and get over here and introduce yourself properly,” Raphael commanded.
Lucifer moved toward me like a hound all too willing to obey his master’s command. My pulse ticked up with each footfall that closed the distance between us. The power in his malachite stare rolled right across the room and straight through me. I tried to hide a telling shudder.
Had anyone noticed how flustered I’d become?
My eyes darted around the table. Cillian, ever clueless, looked like he was about to lick the hollandaise sauce from his plate, and Liam had disappeared.
Did the latter know something that I didn’t? Was I about to be caught in some kind of fucked-up twin standoff?
Without dropping my gaze, Lucifer snagged a piece of buttered toast off Liam’s abandoned plate. I’m sure he didn’t mean for the bite he took to be seductive, but the foreign sensations taking up residency in places I didn’t know were possible told me that it was.
“We’ve met,” he deadpanned.
The memory of him handing me an apple in the garden filled my mind. For a reckless moment, I was about to concur and then panic dawned.
As though reading the fear in my eyes, Lucifer added, “Last night. We crossed paths in the hall, briefly.”
“Is that so?” Raphael drawled.
My heart galloped in my chest.
“Aye,” Lucifer and I said in unison. My tone came out urgent while his remained as cool as ever.
