I waved a hand. “But my choice isn’t about him. It’s about me. It’s about knowing who I am and knowing my boundaries and my limits. I refuse to hurt someone like that. No matter who they are.”
Thorne exhaled slowly. She nodded once, then considered me a moment longer before nodding again. “Okay.”
I frowned. Just…okay? No snark? No drama? Just quiet understanding?
“I can’t just forget everything the St. Germains have done to my family,” she said. “Lucien especially. He’s burned people I care about, and he’s done it with a smile on his face. So no, I’m never going to like him. But I won’t sabotage your relationship with him. You matter to me too, Izzy. I’m not someone who’s had a lot of friends in the past. People only ever care about what my family can do for them. This is the first real friendship I’ve had, and I won’t risk that for a centuries-old feud.”
The knot in my chest slowly uncoiled.
“Now, that doesn’t mean I won’t kick him in the nuts next time I see him,” she said, chuckling softly. “But I guess if I want to destroy him, I’ll just have to make our bar the best damn bar in town. Ruin him the old-fashioned way. With success.”
I grinned. “Now that’s a game I wanna play.”
Thorne gave me a lopsided smile. “Then it’s settled. I won’t involve you in any of my vendettas. I’ll keep my claws sheathed—until we find your stalker, that is. Then all bets are off.”
I laughed. “I’ll bring the popcorn.”
“Great! Then let’s get this party started. Because Ricky is going to be here?—”
A motorcycle roared to a stop in front of the bar.
“—right now,” Thorne said, laughing.
My stomach did a somersault. “Should I be nervous?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she said, laughing. “Because if you think Lucien is hot, wait until you meet my brother.” She immediately winced. “Ugh. Sorry. That physically hurt me to say. But the other ladies in town tell me he’s”—she gagged—“downright fuckable.”
Clasping my hand, she hauled me toward the stairs. “Come on. And try not to swoon. It’ll only encourage him.”
Chapter
Eighteen
LUCIEN
I stood in front of my family estate and loosened my tie and collar, giving me space to breathe. After checking in with Isadora this morning, I’d decided it was time to speak to my mother and find out if she was responsible for the break-in. Confronting her head-on seemed better than speculating. If it was her, mystery solved. If it wasn’t, then I had one less name on my list. Not that my list consisted of many names.
I’d also decided to tell her I refused to run Isadora out of town. She wouldn’t appreciate this conversation, not by any means. Disobedience equaled defiance in my mother’s eyes.
Did I believe my mother was capable of this? Yes. I knew she was. She was capable of great and terrifying things. Not to mention she had a long-standing feud with Eleanor Laurent. People didn’t always react the way others expected, especially when emotions were involved. If she was responsible, then I would put a stop to it before matters escalated.
I took a step toward the front door, and it swung open just as my phone buzzed in my pocket. I dug it out and glanced at the screen.
A text message from Rue: Wolves invaded the bar. No sign of stalker. Yet.
I paused and stared at the word wolves. After a moment, it clicked. Autocorrect. She likely meant Wolfe. As in Thorne.
I texted back: Thorne?
Her reply came immediately: Entire pack.
I frowned at my phone, not entirely sure what she meant by that. The whole family, perhaps? I decided to focus on that later. Isadora clearly wasn’t in any immediate danger, and I had my own lions’ den to step into.
I fired off a final text: Keep eyes on the exits. Update me if anything changes.
Then I pocketed the phone and walked inside.
Henrik stood next to the door, his hands outstretched for my suit jacket. I quickly shed it, then unfastened my cufflinks and folded up my sleeves.
