Page 91 of Shadow Of Sin

Look at me. Buying into the fairy tale shit.

I bite back a grin.

The brothers are gathered in the foyer when we come down the stairs. Everyone is dressed to the nines for this public display of defiance we’re about to put on for the Boston elite.

But my eyes catch on Wolfe. And then they refuse to move away from him.

His suit is navy blue and looks like it was cut for his body. His dark hair is slicked back, his ice blue eyes popping against the fabric of his suit. His white shirt is open at the collar. No tie. A shiver scuttles down my spine at the sheer gorgeousness of the man standing in front of me. He looks like Clark Kent right before he finds the phone booth except I already know what’s under the suit and the glasses and the composure.

He’s mid-sentence with Cillian when I get to the last few stairs. Cillian sees me first. His eyebrows jump and he elbows Wolfe without a word.

Wolfe turns.

And his entire operating system crashes.

I watch it happen in real time and damn, if it isn’t the hottest reaction I could have hoped for.

His mouth drops open. His hand freezes mid-gesture. His eyes go wide behind his glasses, and somewhere in the depths, I see a flicker of raw, unbridled desire ignite.

I did that. Me. In a black dress and heels I can barely walk in. I just shut down the smartest brain in the building.

“Holy shit,” Gavin mumbles.

Cillian just grins.

Wolfe’s hand slowly lowers to his side. He blinks. Then he swallows. His thumb starts hammering against his thigh.

“You...” He stops, clears his throat, and tries again. “You look...”

“Use your words, Wolfe,” Gavin says with a snicker.

He slants Gavin a look before turning back to me. “My words are offline.”

“How long do you think it will be before you’re back online?” I ask, moving toward him, hoping I don’t stumble in these damn stilts.

“Unclear. Could be permanent.”

I stop in front of him. His eyes haven’t left me. I don’t think he’s taken a full breath since I appeared.

“You clean up nice too,” I say, straightening his collar because I need something to do with my hands that isn’t grabbing his face and kissing him senseless in front of his entire family.

Then Luna comes down the stairs behind me.

I turn just in time to see Cillian’s grin vanish. His expression is eclipsed by something quick and raw, an immediate shut down, like a tripped circuit breaker. He covers it fast, but not fast enough.

Because I already caught it.

Luna doesn’t look at him. She walks straight to Adriana, heels clicking on the marble floor, posture perfect, eyes forward.

I don’t know the history between them. But I know what I just saw on his face, and I know what I don’t see on hers, and the space between those two things is damn loud.

We pile into cars and head to Back Bay.

The restaurant, Osteria Gente, is the kind of place where people come to be seen. We aren’t seated in a private room. The hostess ushers us over to a prominent table near the center of the dining room where every eye in the place can observe us. Adriana chose it on purpose. The Molloys and the DiMichelis, together, unshaken, and ordering expensive wine like their world isn’t a complete inferno.

I get why I’m here now. This play isn’t just about unity between the families. It’s about me. Eva Moreno, the woman who flipped off Dmitri’s operation, sitting in public with the people she defected to, looking like she made her choice without a backward glimpse.

That’s the message. And it’s aimed directly at Dmitri.