Page 38 of Ruthless Vow

He nods. "Ciro checked in an hour ago. Still nothing further on the Geraghty situation."

Not unexpected, if whatever happened was buried, it was buried for a reason.

Marco glances at the tablet. "The security company confirmed attendance numbers for the engagement party."

"Good."

"The East Street Kings are sending eight men. The Morozovs are sending six."

I nod, everything appears to be under control. It should make me feel better, but it doesn't.

Marco studies me for a second. "You seem distracted."

I look at him. "Do I?"

"A little."

I ignore that. "Anything else?"

A corner of his mouth twitches. "Miss Delaney isn't at home."

I narrow my eyes. "I don't remember asking."

"No."

"Then why are you telling me?"

His expression remains completely neutral. "I thought you might want to know."

I stare at him. "Where is she?"

"The bookstore on Hanover."

Of course she is, if Valentina finds out, Quinn won’t get a moment of peace, my youngest sister is a complete bookworm. Marco says nothing else, the bastard knows exactly what he's doing. I look at the report sitting open on my desk, and then I look back at him. "When's my next meeting?"

"Two hours."

I get to my feet and grab my jacket, and Marco's mouth twitches again. I point at him. "Not a word."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Liar.

Ten minutes later, I'm questioning every decision that brought me here.

"You're aware this is insane, right?" I ask.

Marco glances at me in the mirror. "Going to a bookstore?"

"Going to a bookstore because my future wife spends time there."

His mouth twitches and I immediately regret speaking. The car pulls to a stop. "We're here." I look at the storefront. For a moment, I consider telling Marco to drive away. Instead, I get out.

The bell above the door chimes as I step inside, the bookstore is smaller than I expected. Shelves line every wall, packed full of books. The scent of coffee drifts through the air from a small café tucked into the back corner. A handful of people sit at tables, reading or working on laptops.

My eyes find Quinn immediately, she's sitting in a worn armchair near the back of the store with her legs tucked beneath her and a book open in her lap, there's a stack of books beside her, and another stack on the table, and a coffee sits forgotten beside her.

She doesn't notice me, not at first, she's completely absorbed in whatever she's reading. I stand there for a moment watching her. This Quinn is different, she’s relaxed, comfortable, and happy. There's no tension in her shoulders, no carefully guarded expression, and no pretending. It’s just Quinn.