I go get a glass from the kitchen anyway, fill it, and bring it back. She props herself up enough to take a few sips, then sets it on the nightstand.
“Tomorrow,” she says, eyes already drooping. “We were supposed to meet tomorrow.”
“We still are,” I tell her. “If you want it. We can reschedule. Or do it at the club like we talked about. Neutral ground. Somewhere you feel safest.”
She smiles weakly. “The fact that the sex club is the neutral ground says a lot.”
“Exactly,” Gideon says. “You know the rules there.”
“I knew the rules,” she corrects. “This whole stepfamily situation is a new edition of the manual.”
I reach out and rest my hand lightly on the blanket over her shin. No pressure. Just a point of contact. “Sleep. Tomorrow we’ll talk. All of us. No secrets. No surprises.”
Her gaze softens. “If you say so.”
I lean down and press a quick kiss to her hair. “Goodnight, Angel.”
“Night,” she whispers. “Don’t let Talon in while I’m sleeping. He’s proven he’s resourceful, and my dad will totally just give him my address.”
Gideon snorts. “He’s not getting anywhere near this place tonight.”
She mumbles something that sounds like good and closes her eyes. Within a minute, her breathing evens out.
We stand there for a moment in the dim light, watching her sleep.
“She’s really out,” Gideon says softly.
“Finally,” I answer.
We leave the door slightly cracked and head back down the hall to the kitchen.
Her apartment is quiet, the kind of quiet that wraps around you instead of echoing. Gideon opens a cabinet, finds a couple of glasses, and grabs the bottle of whiskey left on top of her fridge and pours us each a couple of fingers.
We lean against the counter, each holding a glass. For a minute we don't talk.
Then he breaks the silence.
“Talon tried to blackmail her,” he says.
It’s not news by now, but hearing it out of his mouth with that measured tone makes me put my glass down before I break it in my hand.
“I figured,” I say. “The way she flinched when he talked. The way he kept throwing little jabs. The little shit.”
Gideon nods, eyes dark. “He backed her into a corner. Used what he knew about Velvet against her. Hinted at telling her dad, telling the dean. He made it leverage.”
My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it. “I should have hit him at the party.”
“You shouldn’t have. There were witnesses,” Gideon says. “That’s the only reason you didn’t.”
I tip back a sip of whiskey and let it burn down my throat. “He’s my nephew. I taught him better than that.”
“Our nephew,” Gideon quips. “He’s also young and angry and thinks he’s invincible.” Gideon tilts his glass, watching the liquid. “That doesn’t excuse it. It just means we address it with a clear head instead of swinging.”
I swallow another mouthful of whiskey. “He put her in a position where she had to choose between her safety and her privacy. I’m not calm about that, Gid.”
“I’m not either,” he says. “Which is why we need a plan that isn’t murder.”
It would be easier if we didn’t care about the kid at all. If he were just some asshole at my company or club. But he’s not. He’s Minx’s brother. He’s my brother’s son. He’s ours, in the stupid way family is yours even when they mess up badly.
