“You were at the party,” she adds.
“Ihostedthe party,” he corrects. “After spending six weeks staking that place out so Sokolov could swoop in once you showed up.”
I should have cut his neck with that bottle. Since I can’t rectify that now, I threaten to cut him out of future negotiations.
Cillian simply smirks. “You aren’t here on business.”
He turns away, toward the rows of bottles, leaving me with Carina’s curious stare.
“You planned that night?”
I look at her, relieved to see more color has appeared in her cheeks. “I wanted to see you again.”
“I almost didn’t go back that year. Samantha was such a bitch to me after what happened with Harrison.” She tilts her head left, studying me more closely. “He and his family left Chicago right after that weekend.”
“Too bad.”
“Was that you too?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
I say nothing, surprised she can tell.
“You didn’t need to—that was totally unnecessary.”
Unnecessaryis what I would have done to him if I’d had the influence at eighteen that I do at twenty-nine.
“He hurt you.”
“He ran his mouth. He was a kid.”
“You’re defending him?”
“No. I’m just … not everyone deserves to be punished.”
“Here’s the whiskey.” Cillian sets a glass down. It’s so full that some amber liquid nearly sloshes over the rim. His version of a welcome. “If you need anything else, let me know.”
I know the offer is for more than a refill. Cillian might be irritating, but he’s reliable.
I nod an acknowledgment before he turns away, picking up the glass and holding it out to Carina. She grabs it and swallows a large sip, making a face as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Fuck, that’s strong.”
“Feel better?”
She doesn’t answer, and I immediately regret the reminder of what happened earlier.
“I’m assuming you guys aren’t actually cousins?” Carina indicates to where Cillian has moved, talking to one of the bartenders by the beer taps.
“I don’t have any cousins. My mother’s an only child, and my father’s siblings died young.”
“I have a lot of cousins.” She gulps more whiskey. “This is helping.”
“Good.”
Another sip. “Know what would really help me forget?”
