I bet he doesn’t control himself around her.
Waltzing away, I hear him bark at the woman. “Find my brother Atlas. Tell him to call Black andsettlethis. That’s an order, or they’ll both be sorry.”
Black…
I wonder who he means. Black isn’t a deadly sin, so not one of his guards. Still, the name twitches something in my brain.
For some reason, concerns of a new war rattle me, like I have something to lose.
Fallon.
My hot-as-fuck neighbor, who seems to be under the delusion that she’s my girlfriend. Not in a clawing, clingy, pestering way.
There’s something off with her. I’m not a fucking psychiatrist and don’t know the clinical word for whatever has made her honestly believe she and I are dating. I don’t care, it just sharpens my concern for her.
Whenever I see that smile, I know she’s functioning. Even if it’s none of my business.
God, the memory of her voice in the hallway drags through me again. That voice doesn’t belong in my head. It’s too bright. Too happy. She lives in some parallel cheerful world with plants and dirt.
I shove away thoughts of her. Remind myself I can’t get involved with anyone. Can’t let myself go down that road, because obsessing over women runs in my veins. Trace with Shea, Shane with Lennox, and Connor with Raina. And my cousin Ewan, who defied his mob boss at the time, the Irish king of Astoria, and married the woman hewent to Ireland to kidnap for him.
The fact that Darcy is Ewan’s half-brother’s daughter is another level.
No, I can’t afford to let anyone get close to me.
Not Fallon. Not now.
Chapter 5
Fallon
The package notification pings my phone, and excitement zips through me like when I see that little sprig of green in tended soil. I bounce on my toes three times before I even grab my keys.
One, two, three.
I scoop up Basil from his spot on the counter and kiss his buds.
“Want to come with me?” I whisper, stroking his supple and smooth leaves.
‘No thanks, the sun is perfect right now.’
“Come on. It’s an adventurous trip to the lobby. If you behave, we can take a walk to the garden. Get some real sun. Fresh air, too.”
I don’t give him another chance to protest, I just cradle his small pot against my chest as I march out the front door. I count the steps. Seventeen to the elevator. Press the down button three times, always three. If I don’t, something will go wrong.
The door opens to the lobby, and I’m greeted by Mrs. Heath from 7B. Her frail body is wrapped in too much perfume, covering days of unwashed skin and body odor.
Her eyes dart to Basil. “Oh, what’s this little fellow?”
‘Do not let her touch me!’
She means well, but I brace anyway, because nobody really wants my answers. Still, Basil deserves to be acknowledged.
“This isOcimum basilicum,” I say, smiling proudly. “Part of the Lamiaceae family. Native to tropical regions from central Africa to Southeast Asia. It requires six to eight hours of direct sunlight and consistent watering, but not too much, because root rot is the enemy of little basilseverywhere. Did you know there are over sixty varieties? Sweet basil, Thai basil, holy basil, lemon basil, just to name a few. They each have unique flavor profiles and chemical compositions. The leaves contain eugenol, which gives them their distinctive scent and antimicrobial properties.”
Mrs. Heath’s expression freezes somewhere between polite interest and a migraine.
“You could have just said it’s an herb.” She clutches her purse tighter and hurries past me like I’ve made her late for happy hour.
