I don’t answer right away. Love is a word people use when they want something from you, or when they want to soften the blade. “I prefer results to softness.”
She doesn’t reply, and I watch her for a beat, then I decide to push where it matters. “Do you think I’m a monster?” I ask.
She holds my gaze. “I think all of us can be when we’re protecting what’s closest to us.”
The silence that follows settles into something that feels like the start of a bond I didn’t plan. Quinn reaches for the third whiskey again and takes a slow sip, then she looks at me. “You didn’t ask me about my family,” she says.
“I don’t care who raised you,” I answer. “I care what you do.”
Her mouth tightens slightly, then she nods. “That’s safer,” she says.
“Safer for whom?” I ask.
“For both,” she answers, then she pauses. “You don’t let people close.”
I let a short laugh out. “I let people close enough to work.”
“That’s not close,” she says.
I hold her gaze. “You want close.”
Her cheeks don’t flush, and she doesn’t look away, but her eyes sharpen like she felt the line land.
“I want clarity,” she says.
“You won’t get it,” I reply.
She leans back slightly. “Then why pull me here?”
I stand, and I walk around the table. Quinn tracks me with her eyes, and she doesn’t shift her chair, but I see the readiness in her posture.
I stop behind her chair, close enough that my presence changes her breathing, then I set my hand on the back of the chair, not touching her yet. “You want clarity?”
She nods once.
I lean down slightly, and my mouth is near her ear, and my voice stays low. “Here’s clarity,” I tell her. “If you’re a liar, I’ll kill you. If you’re loyal, I’ll protect what’s yours.”
She turns her head slightly, and her cheek is close to my hand, and her eyes meet mine.
“And if I’m neither?” she asks.
I let my fingers slide along the chair back, still not touching her skin. “Then you’re playing a dangerous game,” I answer.
She holds my gaze, then she whispers the words like she wants to see if they cut. “Isn’t that the fun of it?”
I straighten, then I move to stand beside her chair and look down at her. “I don’t like losing, Quinn,” I say. “People or contests.”
Her mouth opens slightly, then closes, then she sets her glass down with care.
The quiet between us tightens. I reach for her hand and take it, stroking my thumb over her delicate fingers. They stay still under my mine. I watch her face as I lift her hand toward mymouth and kiss her knuckles. Then, I release it and lean down until my mouth is a breath away from hers.
Her eyes flick to my lips, then back to my eyes. I’m going to do it.
Then my phone vibrates hard in my pocket, and it doesn’t stop.
I don’t move at first.
Quinn doesn’t move either, but her gaze shifts for the first time, and it’s a quick flash of annoyance that makes my mouth twitch.
