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“Shut up, Harry.”
“Moron.” She shakes her head.
“Hendrick’s either playing Jac with the fake and he knew he’d hire someone, or…”
She stands. “Neither knew it’s a fake?”
I look at her. “Jac knew. Immediately. He’s seen the real one, enough to know it.”
“It’s well documented in photos. Maybe Hendrick doesn’t know it’s a fake.”
“Shit.” I bite my lip. “Or it’s some kind of excuse for a bloody war.”
“I thought the Quinate had rules.”
I nod. “They do, which means there are always going to be exemptions. This could be one. And I’m a pawn.” I frown. Oh man… I’m in deep, deep shit, aren’t I? “It doesn’t matter. I need to find the truth, and hopefully the real Heart of Dark Desires.”
“And then, Lena?”
Hendrick. I need to start with him.
“And then, Harry, I’ll work out my next move.”
TEN
HENDRICK
One fucking week. How long does it take for Jac Miller to lose his shit?
“Hendrick? Are you paying attention?” Fiona asks.
I blink and give her an easy smile, leaning back in my chair at the restaurant. It’s not the latest hot thing, it doesn’t even have a Michelin star, but if Fiona claims it will, then it will.
She thinks I should invest. There’s no agenda for Fiona Murphy other than having a fabulous restaurant make it. And I can use above board investments. My name and money will keep it above board, too.
In all the years I’ve known her, she’s never steered me wrong.
I probably should have married her back when I dated her, not broken up with her. But that was sixteen years ago and twenty isn’t a good age to marry someone. I’d also been obsessed, but not in love like I thought because—
Not. Going. There.
“Always.” I smile again.
Her dark look tells me she doesn’t buy it. “What do you think of the mushroom dish?”
“Very mushroomy.”
She makes a sound, and irritation crosses her gorgeous face. From the bar, Damon’s gaze is pinned on her rather than the door. I know he’s besotted, well whatever besotted is to a man who’s as deadly as I am.
The moment I mentioned where I was headed, he started on Jac and danger and the fact I was robbed. Which is why he insisted on coming today. To protect me. From…I don’t fucking know. The regular dangers? The jewel thief I fucked? The wiles of Fiona?
Wiles I’m familiar with. Wiles he’d like to be if he’d just admit it.
Fiona’s spectacular, smoking hot, and fucking smart. She’s an acclaimed food writer who’s even more talented in the kitchen but prefers this side of the fire.
She’s not from a crime family, and I’m pretty sure the most she’s stolen is a heart and maybe a drink. She’s a breath of sanity in my world and one of the only people I don’t need a guard up around.
“Why haven’t you fucked Damon?”
