“Dammit, give me something here.”
I take a breath, trying to dial down the drama. “He’s not on his deathbed or anything. But it is something he has to work through.” I sigh. “This isn’t fair, Killian. You’re putting me in an awful position.”
“Just tell me what it is,” he demands.
I’m torn between loyalty and the urge to just spill it. “I can’t betray his trust like that . . . lay off, will you?”
Killian gives a firm nod, his jaw set tight. “All right, sorry. But can you do me a favor instead? He’s been giving me the runaround, always claiming he’s swamped. If I can’t get through to him, maybe Mom can. I’m inviting you to dinner at my place on Friday and I want you to make sure he comes, even if you have to drag him by the hair.”
“What, like an intervention?”
“Call it what you want. I just need a conversation.”
I gnaw my lip uncertainly. The thing is, I want Killian to know the truth. It’s what Connor needs. And Killian came to me, not the other way around. He stomped into my apartment demanding answers.
But ambushing Connor feels risky. He’s not the intervention type.
Still, all I’d be doing is giving Killian a chance to talk to his brother. I’m not doing anything wrong here. Connor can’t be mad about that, can he?
“Okay,” I finally concede quietly.
Killian looks relieved. “Thanks, Lexi.”
But the paranoid thought strikes me—what if I’m inadvertently setting the stage for a feud between the Quinn brothers?
???
I check my watch for the millionth time. Tick fucking tock. I can’t wait until this dinner is over. This waiting game is torture,almost on par with the time I was waiting for Deano’s “mark” to show up at the hotel.
We’re heading for a casual Friday night dinner at Killian’s house. The story is Killian reached out to me to apologize and insisted that we attend dinner. I’m actually surprised he agreed at all, considering he thinks it’s too soon. But I guess he wasn’t ungentlemanly enough to put his foot down and say no when I acted offended at the mere thought of him refusing. All because I promised Killian I’d help.
A pigeon flies down in front of me on Fifth Avenue and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Whoa, easy there, live wire. You okay?” Connor puts his hand on my back.
“Yeah, fine,” I manage.
“Let’s hear it. What’s going on in that restless head of yours? For a pro hustler, you’re bad at hiding things. Lucky for you, I was too gone to notice that night.”
I force out another strained laugh. At least we can laugh about that now. “A pro? Yeah, right. That was my first and last dive into the criminal world. I’m fine, nothing’s going on.”
Connor’s jaw tightens as if he doesn’t believe me. “You don’t need to do this, Lexi. We can cancel.”
“No!” I say, a little too loudly. “No. Killian wants to clear the air with you. Don’t ruin something nice before it even starts.”
“He should have asked me himself, instead of conspiring with you behind my back,” he grumbles.
“He wanted to apologize for the other night—with me stuck in the middle of your argument. Come on, Connor, it’s only dinner. How bad can it be? Unless Killian’s cooking is awful,” I joke feebly.
I take his hand, my palm sweaty against his, and tug him forward, toward Killian’s sprawling townhouse.
All I want is for the brothers to hash it out, do the whole bro-hug routine and move past this. I’ll feel relieved when everything is out in the open. It’s hard being the only one carrying a secret, not knowing the right things to say or do.
Killian opens the door with a warm expression, like he’s genuinely happy to see us. He gives me a kiss on the cheek then slaps Connor amicably on the back.
As we step inside, I can’t help but gape at the sheer opulence. I’ve been to some pretty swanky places in my life, like the Met and the Guggenheim, but this townhouse puts them all to shame.
“Thanks, Lexi,” Killian murmurs quietly.
