Yet those images won’t fade.
When I enter the dining room, Ryder is placing a steaming dish of pasta in the center of the table. Liam is already seated, swirling wine in his glass. Cora sits across from my empty chair, her posture perfectly straight, face carefully blank.
“Look who finally decided to join us,” Liam raises his glass. “We were beginning to think you’d drowned.”
I ignore him and take my seat next to Ryder. The table feels too small, everyone too close. I can smell Ryder’s cologne—woodsy with hints of citrus. I’ve never noticed it before.
“Hope everyone likes carbonara,” Ryder says, reaching for the serving spoon. His bicep flexes as he dishes pasta onto Cora’s plate first. I find myself staring at the movement of muscle beneath his skin.
“You cook?” Cora asks.
Ryder grins. “One of my many talents.”
“He’s surprisingly domestic,” Liam adds. “Unlike our host here.”
My jaw tightens. “I can cook.”
“Making pancakes doesn’t count,” Ryder laughs, serving himself before passing the spoon my way.
As I reach for it, our fingers brush. The contact is brief—barely a touch—but electricity shoots up my arm. I jerk back so violently that my elbow knocks into my water glass, sending it toppling. Water splashes across the table.
“Shit,” I mutter, grabbing my napkin to mop up the spill.
Ryder stares at me, confusion plain on his face. “You okay, man?”
“Fine. Just... slipped.”
Liam’s eyes narrow. Cora’s watching too, her face unreadable but somehow knowing.
I force myself to breathe, to steady my hands as I clean up the water. What the hell is wrong with me? It was nothing. A casual touch. The kind that happens between people sharing a meal.
So why is my heart hammering against my ribs like I’ve been caught doing something forbidden?
29
LIAM
The tension at dinner is delicious. Dominic’s reaction to Ryder’s touch proves more fascinating than any courtroom drama I’ve witnessed. Before I can probe further, the doorbell echoes through the penthouse.
Dominic frowns. “Are we expecting anyone?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Ryder says, already rising to his feet.
I stay seated, studying Cora’s reaction. She’s gotten paler, if that’s possible.
Ryder returns moments later, his easy demeanor replaced with something more guarded. “We have a visitor. Xavier Blackwood.”
Dominic’s expression darkens. “What the fuck does he want?”
Xavier strides in before anyone can answer, filling the room with his presence. The red half-mask is gone, but he doesn’t need it to be intimidating. Without acknowledging any of us, he looks directly at Cora.
“Ms. Pike. I trust you’re settling in adequately?”
Cora nods stiffly. “Yes, thank you.”
“Good.” His voice is flat, clinical. “Gentlemen, a word in private.”
Dominic stands. “This is my home, Blackwood. Whatever you have to say?—”
