Zara grumbles into her mug. "Your attitude could use an exorcism. Plus, I never cheat."
I hold my tiles close and search the board. None of my letters wants to cooperate. I groan, "I hate all of these."
"Same," Fiona says.
"It's because your vocabulary keeps shrinking," Zara teases.
Fiona argues, "That's because I haven't left this place in two weeks. I'm losing brain cells."
Zara presses a hand to her belly. "You're growing a baby. You're literally making brain cells."
Fiona shoots her a glare. "Not mine."
I laugh under my breath. It's been so long since anything felt normal that even pointless bickering over board games offers relief.
Across the room, the men are in the kitchen, clustered around the stove, attempting to cook. But they're just as antsy.
Sean groans dramatically. "Kirill, for the love of God, those are chopped, not sliced."
Kirill stares at the cutting board as if Sean has personally insulted his ancestry. "Your instructions were vague."
Brax's laugh drifts across the island. "He's right. You said 'cut them.'"
Sean points at him. "You stay out of this."
Brax grunts, absolutely unbothered. "No. I won the card tournament. You lost. You cook, I supervise. That was the bet."
Kirill's eye twitches. "Still think you stacked the deck."
"No need for me to do that. I have pure skills," Brax boasts, then takes another swig of beer. He glances over his shoulder at me, and the warm flicker in his eyes transforms the air in my lungs. It's the same dangerous expression that says he's counting down the hours, or maybe minutes, until he pulls me into a dark corner again.
I rise, thinking I'll excuse myself to the bedroom, when Kirill's phone buzzes, stopping me dead in my tracks.
But it's not just me.
Sean stops moving. Brax's jaw goes rigid. Zara's mug halts midair. Fiona freezes with a tile in her hand.
Kirill pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at the screen. His eyes dart across it, then he lifts his head. "The last council member's flight arrived. I'm sending the time out."
A stillness rolls across the space so heavy it presses down on my ribs.Even the walls seem to exhale, recognizing the threshold we've just crossed.
Three days ago, Kirill sent instructions that every Omni and Royal Council member was to attend a mandatory meeting tonight. He stated that the time would be announced an hour before.
Brax pins his gaze on mine.
My heart races.
Silence fills every corner of the penthouse. No one moves at first. Even the air stops shifting. Tension sharpens into something solid, something that digs its claws into the atmosphere and refuses to let go. My chest tightens under it.
"We've got sixty minutes until showtime. Anyone want a fresh drink?" Brax asks.
"I'll take a glass of wine," I reply.
"Me too," Zara says.
"Water for me," Fiona states.
Brax hands the guys a beer, pours two glasses of wine, and gives Fiona a bottle of water.
