Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Shit. Of course—”
“No.” I draw a deep breath in. “Open it.”
“We don’t have to.”
“Open it, Cassian. Like you said, I’m going to make fear into my strength.” He doesn’t look convinced. “Open it. I want you to.”
He nods, twists the corkscrew into the cork and pulls. I hear the pop and instantly smell the wine even though I’m holding my breath.
It takes me a minute. Several minutes. I close my eyes and tell myself to breathe slowly.
“You’re safe,” Cassian says, still standing, still watching me.
I nod, slowly open my eyes. I hold out my empty glass grateful my hand isn’t shaking.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He pours. My stomach is tight. Usually by now, nausea has taken over. After he’s poured for me, he fills his own glass and sits down. “Together?” he asks.
“Together,” I say, and together, we take a sip and when the heavy red touches my lips and I swallow the smallest sip, I think maybe I can do this. I think about what Jet said. What Cassian said. And maybe I can do this.
But that little bit is enough, and I set my glass down.
“We need to bury my brother,” I say. We just need to do this. I need to get through it, get it done, for Michael, for myself.
“I’ll arrange it.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
I pick up my fork and spoon and begin to twirl the pasta. I’m weirdly hungry. I feel like I haven’t had a proper meal in so long. We’re eating our first bite when I hear the front door open. Hear men’s voices.
Cassian wipes his mouth and stands. Footsteps head toward us, and I turn to watch Jet walking down the center aisle. He glances at me, but keeps his eyes on Cassian and when he steps into the light, I notice the bruise on his temple, the cut on his lip. He stops when he’s a few feet from the table and he and Cassian have some sort of silent showdown. I watch them. They’re something to watch, these two. I can’t help but glance at Cassian’s hand, the knuckles of his fist.
The air around us crackles. I’m holding my breath. I think we all are. There’s something between Jet and Cassian that I’ve noticed before. It’s always been there. Whatever it is has butterflies fluttering their wings in my belly.
“Sit,” Cassian says gruffly, breaking the spell.
I exhale. Jet seems to do the same.
Cassian walks toward the kitchen to return a moment later with a plate, utensils and a wine glass.
By then, Jet is seated across from me. Cassian is at the head of the table.
Jet nods his greeting to me.
“What happened to your face?” I ask.
“Met an unfriendly fist,” he says casually as Cassian makes him a plate.
I look up at Cassian and I know his was the unfriendly fist. Cassian must feel me looking at him, but he avoids my gaze.
“Any word on Malek?” Jet asks finally.
Cassian chews a mouthful of pasta and shakes his head. “Not yet. Coward’s vanished.” He takes another bite just as his phone rings. I recognize the ringtone. He digs it out of his pocket. This one isn’t the burner.
I meet his gaze when he glances at me. “I have to take this,” he says and with that, he’s gone, walking toward his study, speaking quietly.
I watch him go and I don’t realize how tightly I’m holding my fork until he’s out of sight, vanished into his office. When I shift my gaze back to the table, I find Jet watching me like he knows what I’m thinking. I get the feeling he knows who just called too.
“Why did you two fight?” I ask.
“Why do you think?”
Me. They fought over me.
A long silence follows. I pick up my wine, but my stomach protests. I touch my lips to the rim of the glass, but don’t open my mouth, don’t swallow. Jet’s eyes are on me all along.
“Does he always jump when she calls?” I ask after setting my glass down.
“When who calls?”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” I pick up some pasta, but stop. “You know, I liked you a lot better the other night.”
“Why’s that?”
“You told me about your nightmares.”
“You liked me better because I told you I have nightmares?” I watch his throat work when he swallows. This is harder for him than he wants to let on.
“I liked your honesty. Your… humanness.”
“My humanness? Is that a word?”
I study him. “I don’t think Cassian’s ever been scared.”
Jet breaks the lock of our eyes. “Don’t be so sure,” he says seriously. I want to ask what he means, but he continues before I can. “What do you want, Allegra?”
“I want you the way you were the other night,” I tell him and as the words come unbidden, I realize how raw they sound.
Jet studies me, eyes steady. “I’m not sure that’s what Cassian wants.”