Page 107 of A Vicious Love

I crossed the deck. People moved. The deck was crowded, but Crow anger cleared space faster than staff ever could. Conversations thinned. Laughter lowered. A woman near the bar turned away.

Sienna saw me coming and straightened.

That fear again.

God.

I hated it.

Weston saw it too. His smile did not move, but his eyes sharpened. A challenge sat there. He wanted me to notice.

I stopped beside Sienna. Close. Too fucking possessive for a man who kept telling himself he didn’t care.

“Weston,” I said.

“Jamison.”

Crows did not need warmth to recognize blood. We recognized threat better.

“You’re standing close.”

Weston’s mouth curved. “It’s a small deck.”

“It’s a large harbour.”

Sienna looked between us. “We were only talking.”

“I know what he was doing.”

Her face went pink again, but this time it was embarrassment. I wanted to hit him for making her feel it.

Weston lifted his glass. “I was complimenting your fiancée.”

“My fiancée doesn’t require your attention.”

Mine.

Sienna heard them most of all. Her eyes flicked to mine, startled. For one second, I saw the old Sienna under the hurt. The girl who wanted to be claimed by me because she thought being claimed meant being wanted.

Then the caution came back.

Weston tilted his head. “Your fiancée?”

My jaw locked.

The fucker knew exactly where to press.

My voice dropped. “You want to finish that question?”

Emmie stepped closer to Sienna. Marcel appeared at my left shoulder, calm as death.

Weston smiled. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“Smart.”

“Rarely accused of that by Harlan.”

“St. Cross sets a low bar.”