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“Oh, I am. But I guess that I’m also…” He flicks a hand as he seemingly searches for the right word. “Easily distracted, I guess. Less thorough.”
“Oh, I’ve seen you be plenty thorough.” The words leave my mouth before I can second guess myself, and my eyes widen in surprise as my face instantly flushes. Clamping a hand over my mouth, I mumble, “I didn’t mean that.”
It takes him a beat to react, the expression in his narrowed eyes going from surprise to amusement. Then he grins. “Oh yes, you did. Care to explain?”
I slowly take my hand away, carefully choosing my words when I say, “I saw you, you know, tutoring students. Remember?”
“If I remember spending my sacred free time helping others?” He chuckles. “You bet I do.”
“Did youhaveto do it?” I can’t help but ask. “Like, did they make you? Maybe the hockey coach?”
“Nah.” He lets out a breath of smoke. “I actually enjoyed it. Was mostly economics classes. I can be a nerd, if I want to be. I like studying. I’m not always a complete asshole.” He shoots me a wink.
I know, I want to say, but my nerves get the the better of me.Because you also spent time helping in the gardens, and you looked after the hockey rink like it was your personal property.
Because you cared for it.
“I enjoy helping others. It makes me realize how lucky I am, having been born in the family I am. Having the life I have. It gives a certain satisfaction, you know?” He tilts his chin in my direction. “What about you?”
I shrug and watch him inhale, but when I realize that he’s expecting an actual answer, my body locks up and I involuntarily squirm. “Me?”
“Yeah, you. We’ve already established that you studied software technology, you like photography and swimming, and hate Noah Prince.” There’s no mocking in his tone. “And your macho brother told me that you are his right hand.”
“I am.”
“So, what else defines Connor Donnelly?”
I turn to face him, ignoring the way my heart flutters. “Why do you want to know?”
Dodging my question, he asks, “Where do you live?”
“You?”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Playing hard to get, hey? Alright, Brooklyn Heights most of the time. I share a condo with my brother in a building that’s entirely owned by The Void. The rest of my family lives in the other apartments.”
“That’s cool. I live in Manhattan.”
He hums as he weighs my answer. “You still live with your parents?”
“No.” I huff indignantly, but the words are stuck in my throat. They usually are, when it comes to personal matters.
He takes another drag and lets out a thin line of smoke, then asks, “Have you ever dated anyone?”
“What? I’m not going to answer a question like that.” My cheeks heat with furious embarrassment.
“No need to get your claws out, kitten. I’ll take that as a no.”
“What’s it to you anyway?” I snarl, humiliation crawling through my belly. “We shouldn’t be wasting our time in the first place. I have a phone call to make.”
I swing my leg onto the kitchen floor and make sure that he sees my scowl—to which he gives me an infuriating grin—before I make my way back inside. Ignoring my tight chest at the decision to duck out of our first real conversation ever, I slouch down on the couch with my laptop on my knees. I really have to call my brother, so that was no lie. It turns into a video call, one that unexpectedly takes place at Lucia’s, our favorite taco diner and place where we frequently hold business lunches.
“Hi, little bro,” Logan greets me, then moves his screen so I see the guys behind him—Samuel, Charlie, Big, and in the corner, my sister-in-law who sends me an enthusiastic wave. “You texted something about a safe house?”
“Yeah, it’s all fine. How’s the team?”
“Good man, how are you holding up?”
“We’re cool. I mean, I am. And Austin is too, I guess.” I clear my throat and before shit gets weird, I fall back onto safer ground by giving them a debrief on our earlier meeting with Philippe. “For now, let’s put code red into action. For safety reasons, stay together in the penthouse and delegate as much as you can until further notice,” Logan barks to his team. “Now more important than ever, no running around on the streets alone.” There’s a string of “yes, boss”, then my brother turns to face me with that similar glint of worry in his eyes that I detected with Austin before—it’s the anxiety of facing something they can’t just deal with by shooting it in the head. “They use hypnosis, you say?”
