I hobble to the island, lower myself onto the stool that's becoming Emma's spot. The thought catches me off guard.Her spot.Like she belongs here. Like this is becoming ours instead of mine.
“How's Sin?” Logan asks, reading my expression with annoying accuracy.
“Emma. Her name is Emma.”
“How's Emma?” He indulges me.
“Good. She's good.” I open the container. Some kind of grain bowl. Healthy. Logan's been on a kick lately. “She's at work.”
“And you're here pining.”
“I'm not pining.”
“Kai.” He leans against the counter, arms crossed. “I've known you for fifteen years. I've seen you with models, actresses, heiresses. I've never seen you look at any of them the way you look at her.”
I don't have a response to that.
“Have you told her yet?”
“Told her what?”
“Don't play dumb. About Hammond. About who your family is.”
I focus on the food. “Not yet.”
“Kai—“
“I know. I know I need to tell her. But things are finally good. She's finally settling in, finally trusting me. If I tell her now...”
“If you tell her now, she might be upset. If she finds out some other way, you're done.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you're building something on a foundation of sand. And when the tide comes in?—“
“I said I know, Logan.”
Silence. He backs off, hands raised.
The elevator chimes again. Ethan walks out, phone pressed to his ear, finishes a conversation in clipped tones. He hangs up and joins us at the island.
“Maddox sent me the footage,” he says without preamble. “Professional job. Someone knew exactly what they were doing.”
“We talked, earlier” I say.
“Did he cover the part where the same body type matches three unsolved incidents in the past two years? All involving people who crossed major corporate interests?”
I look up. “Maddox didn't mention that.”
“We just got the match. If he's right, we're not dealing with amateur hour. This is a fixer. Someone who makes problems disappear for people with deep pockets.”
A fixer.The word settles into my bones like ice.
“Same fixer who maybe hired those bikers to torch the school.”
“It’s a warning.” Ethan takes a container from the spread. “A real hit would've been cleaner. Brake lines are risky. Too many variables. This feels like a message.”
“A message saying what?”
