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I laugh coldly. “Good.”
He scowls one moment longer, then shoves the curtains aside and disappears. I laugh louder as he leaves, but it feels as though I’m just trying to drown out my own worry.
My first thoughts should be for Bee, for the Zanetti empire I stand to inherit.
But the only thing on my mind is Wren.
30
DMITRI
She dances like no one’s watching. Eyes closed, slender arms raised high in the air.
But someone is watching: I am. And also…
“Cian’s still hanging around,” Aleksandr mutters in my ear. “Back of the bar, corner booth.”
Just like that, my moment of watching Wren’s rapture in the music goes up in smoke. There are things that need to be taken care of. People that need to be reminded to stay in line.
“Should I get Wren or will you?” asks Aleks.
My instinct is to get her myself, but if Cian is lurking, then Cian is observing—and if Cian is observing, then he’s gathering information he can use against us.
He may already know too much as it is.
“Get her and bring her to the car.” I wait to make sure my brother reaches Wren, and then I leave the club and wait by the Porsche.
A few minutes later, they emerge from the throngs of concertgoers and meet me. Aleks quickly departs in his own vehicle. She’s sheened with sweat, glistening like she’s not quite real. More mirage than woman.
I turn away because the sight of her like that, gleaming under the street lights, stirs up a feeling in my chest I can neither name nor explain.
It isn’t until we’re driving away from the club that Wren twists in her seat to regard me with a curious look. “So, how do you know Cian? He said you guys were old friends…?”
I try and fail to control the twitching in my jaw. “I wouldn’t go that far. He’s an old business associate.”
“Be more vague, I dare you.”
“How do you know him?” I keep the question as casual as possible, but her gaze is burning a hole into the side of my face.
“He was friends with my brother-in-law. Jared used to hang out at this Irish pub downtown. O’Malley’s. That’s where he met Cian.”
Of course. It makes sense now. It makes so much fucking sense.
“They were close?”
“Jared and Cian?” She thinks about it for a moment. “I wouldn’t say they were best pals or anything. Just, like, drinking buddies.” She waits for me to say something but I’m not about to go anywhere near that minefield. “Small world, huh?”
I nod. “Too small.”
For some ridiculous reason, I actually weigh what it might mean if I told her the truth. Her beloved brother-in-law wasn’t as pure as the driven snow. Very few men are, in my experience. But telling her that truth would also mean telling her the rest.
And I can’t risk her running from me.
“Did you like the band?”
I glance in her direction. Is she trying to make conversation? We’ve been on the road for ten minutes now, but her cheeks are still flushed from all that dancing. “They were okay.”
“Just ‘okay’? My God, you really have no soul.”
