Fuck.
Silas Vescari.
Of course.
“Is this your friend?” Larissa asks sweetly over my shoulder. My heart is racing as I look back at her. A big smile spreads across her face as she looks up at Silas, while annoyance floods every nook and cranny of my being.
“He’s just someone I work with from time to time.”
“Not cooperatively,” he says so quietly that only I can hear.
“Boy, you just don’t know when to give up, do you?” I say, not even trying to keep the irritation out of my voice as I turn on him this time. This fucking asshole.
“Call me tenacious,” he says with a smile that seems polite at first, but I can hear the venom in his tone.
“There is a long list of other things I’d rather call you first,” I mutter, and my gaze narrows on the spot of red on his collar. Blood. He’s wearing all black, so it’s not as noticeable. But I notice, and my blood turns cold. Is he really interrupting our breakfast after killing someone? Probably. “You spilled ketchup on yourself.”
He looks down, his gaze narrowing, but he seems indifferent, ignoring me as he reaches past to offer Larissa his hand to shake. “Hello, what is your name?”
Every fiber in my being stands on edge. Is he threatening me? Surely not. I don’t put it past men like this to use childrento get what they want, but I didn’t take Silas to be that kind of person. Instinctually, I know he’s not, but I never leave anything to chance. Especially when it comes to Larissa.
She beams up at him, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks shiny. “Larissa, but I make my friends call me Princess Larissa because it’s important to establish who you are to those around you,” she says like a forty-five-year-old motivational speaker in a five-year-old body. “What’s your name?”
He raises an eyebrow and looks at me, as if it was my doing that she learned to introduce herself as royalty. I casually shrug.
“My name is Silas. It’s lovely to meet you,” he says, taking her little hand to shake. I can tell he knows I’m watching him carefully. I don’t like this. I don’t like him stepping into my world like he belongs here.
I don’t like anyone getting close to what is mine to protect.
“Silas… Sil … as…” She tests his name on her lips, then smiles. “I like it.”
“Why, thank you, Princess Larissa.”
Her smile grows even bigger.
“Would you care if I joined you and your mom?” he asks her and not me.
“No,” I say at the same time Larissa says, “Oh, she isn’t my mom. She’s my god mom.”
Just then, the server walks out with her food. She gives Silas an appreciative once-over, and I want to tell the woman not to get involved with a man like this. Larissa is immediately happy with the Mickey pancake, which is shaped from chocolate sauce and some strawberries.
“You can sit,” she says around her first mouthful of pancakes.
I want to tell Silas to fuck off, but I know not to use that language around Larissa. She’s like a parrot. She’ll be testing out the word for the rest of the afternoon.
So I throw him a murderous look.
Which he ignores.
Fucking asshole.
“Thank you.” He slides into the booth beside me. He’s dressed in black slacks and a long-sleeved black button-up shirt just enough to expose the ink winding up his wrists. The movement catches my attention before I can stop myself. His hands flex once he’s seated, and my gaze lingers a little too long.
I drag my gaze away quickly, pretending I’m looking elsewhere, until I look back to find his sapphire eyes are already trained on me.
“You declined my invite?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I say, reaching for my coffee and taking a sip, trying my hardest to pretend the six-foot, pure muscle beside me that smells of citrus and wood isn’t ruining my fucking day.
