My fists tighten, and I envision a Quinlan vs. Quinlan war breaking out. “I’ve not banged her. And I have no intention of banging her.” I think…
“She just wants a date for the holidays?” Trace asks, brows furrowed, not convinced.
“Exactly.” I point to him, then my spirits dampen. “You need to know, too, that she’s different.”
“Different how?” Shane asks, but then his phone rings. “Aw, fuck. That’s Ares calling me.”
I pray it’s about something other than last night. For the past three years, Shane has been working closely with the Zervas brothers to keep this construction project runningsmoothly.
Trace slides next to me. “Define different?”
“She’s a bit…off. She believes I’m already her boyfriend. And I think she talks to her plants.”
“Mum talks to her plants,” Trace says, shrugging. “Remember how she sashayed to that trellis every morning, greeted them, and asked them who was thirsty? All beforewegot breakfast.”
“Yeah, but I think in her mind the plants talk back to her,” I say, and watch Trace go still.
“She hears voices?” my brother says, sounding concerned.
Fearing a motorcade of Griffin’s eight empire guards will show up and abduct Fallon, I say, “I think she’s got a mental disorder. That’s what all the medication you found for her is about. But I can handle it. I can handle her.”
Saying that makes me sicker than the thought of all those pill bottles on her nightstand. But she told me outright she’s not taking her meds. But I don’t voice that.
I heard some of that shite makes people too chill. She’s lively and vibrant. And if that’s because she’s not on meds, then I prefer her just the way she is.
Trace pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll call Cormac. Have him do a medical assessment.”
“No! She’s not broken,” I snap. “She’s just?—”
What is she?
Can she handle my life? Does she want a love that’s hard? The type of love where I want a woman to talk tomeif she’s stressed or unhappy. Not a damn plant.
Fallon has a beautiful heart, when she’s not scaring the shit out of me by almost falling fifteen stories out of my window right in front of me. She’s warm, kind, and innocent.
Innocent. A thought slices through me:Is she a virgin?
Rage scorches up in my throat. Not because I need heruntouched.
I see how trusting and vulnerable she is.
The idea of anyone treating her roughly, carelessly, without her choosing it, makes my vision go red.
Then my thoughts get darker, thinking of someone taking that special gift from her.
Taking what is fucking mine.
Shane returns, eyes grim. “Ares told me his side of what happened. He met your fake girlfriend. He wants to question her. Said he tried that night, but you shuffled her out the door.”
My stomach turns to ice. “Why the fuck is he negotiating with you aboutmyfake girlfriend?”
“Because, cousin,” Shane says, sitting down, “when one Quinlan draws blood in front of a witness, it stops being your own little personal relationship charade. It becomes empire business.”
Trace’s chair moans as he leans forward, eyes flicking toward Shane. “If she’s seen as unstable, the Greeks will want to do something about her.”
“What?” I grind out.
“All he wants right now is to see if she can be trusted,” Shane says. “It was a hit for him. If he thinks she’ll talk, Ares has the right to silence her.”
