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He holds my gaze.
Yeah, McKittrick, I know.So does your sister.
“Fucking touché.” He leans back against the seat again. “Girl drives me fucking crazy.”
“Not my business.”
“Haven, does she know?”
I give him a quick dip of my chin.
“You told her?”
I confirm with another nod.
He breathes a disbelieving huff. He’s shocked that I am as open with Haven as I am.
“The sir thing. The throat thing.” I let him simmer with his thoughts knowing something else is coming. “Not sure I’m comfortable with it.”
“You don’t need to be.” I raise a brow, warning him. He’s crossing a line. He knows it. But I understand it, it’s his little sister.
He shakes his head in disbelief. “My innocent little sister.” He sips his drink. “One last question, Carbone. To settle my nerves.”
“Was there ever a question?”
He gruffly gives a half laugh. “She’s okay with it?”
“If she wasn’t, our marriage would have a different dynamic.”
He gives my statement a second to process. “I’ve watched you. How you work. You’re meticulous, brutal, cunning even, and never careless. My wish is that Haven will only experience the part of you that hasn’t been infected by the things you have seen and done.”
“Carelessness will get you killed.”
“Amen to that.” He raises his glass. “I only ask that you never become careless with her.”
“My wife will want for nothing.”
He nods in appreciation, lifting his glass. “To keeping ourselves and our loved ones safe.”
I hold my glass up and tip it towards him, returning his toast, then swallow the lot just as the door flies opens and my firefly stands there is despair.
“Is it true?” she shouts in disbelief, her attention solely on me. “Demetri? Is it true?”
ChapterThirty-Nine
DEMETRI
“Is it true? Tell me,”she demands, tears streaming down her face.
The unearthing of her once impending future glazes over her stunning eyes. It’s suffocating to watch her struggle with the truth she just received. How does she know? I want to know who told her so I can slit their throat. Her vulnerability is directed at me. She doesn’t care that her brother’s in the room. She wants answers and they’re not good enough unless they come from me.
“Fuck,” Cillian mutters behind me, his glass ringing out as he rashly drops it to the black marble coffee table.
“Leave,” I order, my sight never leaving my wife.
Without question, Cillian walks out, slamming the door as he goes.
“Is it true?” Her chin wrinkles from sadness.
