A long table sits in the middle, silver cutlery gleaming in the low light of a crystal chandelier hanging above. The smell of roasted meat, garlic butter, and ripe tomatoes fills my nose.
Blaze takes the seat at the head and silently invites us to sit.
“I expected Broadway and Ryder to join us,” he says, nodding at two empty place settings.
“They went straight to the hotel,” Carter supplies, his jaw sharper than the knives on the table. “Where they’ll stay until they’re needed. We don’t want the evening to turn violent, do we?”
Blaze chuckles as if Carter’s made a joke. “I assume staying out of Broadway’s way would be wise.”
“Staying away from Violet for the rest of your life would be wiser.”
Silence falls again. Seeing as all three men look ready to grab their steak knives and duel instead of eating, I roll my eyes and loosen the tension by filling my plate.
Reluctantly, Carter follows, then so does Koby. He doesn’t eat, though, his hand squeezing my knee under the table.
Noretto knows the plan as well as we do, but Carter walks him through the details again, and Blaze listens, nodding along like they’re discussing stock prices rather than plotting murder.
It’s clear in the way they exchange details that they’re both unhappy about the collaboration, but since they’ll both benefit from it, they grit their teeth, playing civil.
Dinner ends an hour later when Carter wipes his mouth with a napkin and pushes away from the table. “I’ll be up early tomorrow morning,” he tells Koby. “Don’t start without me.”
“We won’t.”
“Good. Try to get some sleep. It’ll be a long day.”
Blaze stands too, following Carter out, their footsteps echoing all around.
“How are you doing?” Koby asks, squeezing my thigh twice. “You never told me if Blaze hurt—”
“He didn’t do anything to me,” I cut in, covering his hand with mine. “Relax, okay? You’re stressing me out.”
A sharp nod is all I get.
At least he’s not sulking...
35
Leilani
Jax leaves mine and Koby’s suitcases by our four-poster bed. It’s in the same room I slept in for weeks while under Noretto’s roof.
Last time, the man of the house ushered me upstairs, but tonight, after one look at wound-up Koby, he instructed his lackey to take us.
“If you need anything, you know where my room is,” Jax says, looking over his shoulder, one hand grasping the doorframe. “You’ll find all your things still in the closet.”
“She won’t need anything,” Koby clips, glaring at his back until the door closes with a soft click.
I sit on the edge of the bed, watching him scrutinize my former cell and glare at the furniture like it’s threatening his life.
“Koby,” I prompt. “Please stop. The dresser’s not plotting against us, okay?”
“I don’t trust this house.” He drags his eyes off the fixtures and fittings. “I don’t trust Blaze. I don’t trust—”
“Anyone but Carter, Broadway, Ryder, and Dante.” I cross the space between us, pressing my palm flat against his chest, over his thrumming heartbeat. “I know, but you’ll make yourself sick if you keep this up.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Clearly.” I brush my fingers along his pulsing temple, then take his hand, tugging him toward the bathroom. “Come on. You need to relax before you pop a vein.”
