Page 61 of Allegiant

Harley laughs as he stalks to the stove. He lounges against the counter beside it, casually placing himself within reach of the chef. From how his eyes keep dipping in Jules’s direction every few seconds, I’m guessing his feelings toward him are anything but casual. “Your little dancer is safe from me, Samson.”

Samson stiffens further, like he’s hearing something in Harley’s words that I’m not. “He’s safe, period.”

Harley’s smirk deepens. “Interesting.”

“What’s going on?” I whisper to Samson. “Am I in danger?”

“No.” He kisses my temple lightly. “You’re safer in here, at my side, than anywhere else in the world.”

I want to ask him more, like how his brother knows who I am and what I do, but before I can, several plates are appearing on the kitchen island.

“Sit,” Jules says with a flourish. “You must eat. I will be angry if you let them grow cold.”

“We don’t want you angry,” Harley teases, swatting Jules’s ass lightly as he passes. “We’ll behave.”

Jules gives a laugh that must be fake. I don’t even know the guy, and I can tell. “When do you ever?”

Harley’s face darkens as he watches the chef. Even Samson is frowning at him. Whatever is going on with Jules, this can’t be normal for him.

“Oh, look at the time,” Jules says, loosening his apron. “I need to get over to Matthias and Wyatt’s. I promised to be there for lunch.”

“They can come here,” Harley says, taking a step toward him. “They won’t mind. Especially with Row⁠—”

“Non,” Jules snaps, cutting him off. Harley pales, his lips parting in shock. I watch, fascinated, as Jules cringes. He smooths away his ire and smiles brightly at Harley. “I mean, no. It’s fine. I want to go home.”

“Okay.” Harley’s face turns impassive as he folds his arms over his chest. “If that’ll make you happy.”

Jules’s wince is there and gone in a flash. “Yes. Tell Wylder I’ll be here for family dinner on Friday.”

With that, he scurries from the room. Harley’s jaw works as he stares at the door for a few moments. Then his long legs are eating up the distance, carrying him out after the chef.

“Well,” I say, breaking the silence. “That was…illuminating. I’m guessing something is going on with them?”

Samson grunts as he loads up my plate with pancakes. “Fuck if I know. I can’t keep up with the shit that’s going on around here.”

He pours syrup over the pancakes before adding several strawberries from a bowl. I hide my grin. A lucky guess, I’m sure. Samson has no way of knowing this is exactly how I like my breakfast.

“How many siblings do you have?” I ask, taking a bite of food and groaning loudly. “Fuck, this is amazing. Whatever Jules is being paid, it’s not enough.”

Samson hums in agreement. “I’ll mention it to Wylder.”

Wylder. That’s right. He’s the one who owns this place. “Is he the eldest?”

His head bobs. “Yeah. In answer to your earlier question, I have five brothers. Harley’s the youngest. Then there’s Matthias, Dalton, and Cade.”

I give a low whistle. “If you’re anything to go by, I bet you were all a handful growing up.”

Samson pauses with his fork in midair. “Something like that.”

He puts his head down and focuses on shoveling his food into his mouth as fast as he can. He doesn’t need to worry; the message has been received. I steer the conversation in another direction. “Are you all disgustingly good-looking?”

Samson’s nose wrinkles. “Fuck no. They’re all hideous trolls.”

I smirk. “I’m taking that as a yes, then.”

Suddenly my chair is being spun around until my knees are beside Samson’s. He drags me forward as much as he can.

“Are you hoping to fuck one of my brothers?”