Page 80 of Redline Communion

Nico looks toward the doorway and finds me.

His face doesn’t change enough.

That’s how I know I should leave.

I push the door open instead.

“What transfer?”

Every person at the table stops.

There it is, my favorite family tradition: silence, followed by everybody deciding who gets to lie first.

Alistair rises. “Lorelei.”

“Don’t.” The word comes out harder than I intended.

Good.

“Don’t Lorelei me like I walked into the wrong conference room. What transfer?”

The young man across from Nico turns.

I know immediately that I’ve never met him, and I also know somebody expected me to.

He has dark hair, a narrow face, and the deeply unfortunate calm of someone raised in a house where silence means status. His gaze travels over me once, not leering but assessing.

Which is worse.

“Who is that?”

Alistair doesn’t answer.

Nico does.

“Étienne Laurent.”

The man inclines his head. “Lorelei.”

He knows my name.

Of course he does.

“Why?”

Étienne glances toward the older man beside him, his father, presumably, or whoever this family has assigned to speak on his behalf.

The older man smiles.

“Your reputation travels.”

“I don’t have a reputation.”

“You do.”

“Then somebody’s been working overtime.”

“Enough,” Alistair says.