Chapter 753
Chapter 753:
“I’m making pasta,” Skye said.
“See? Stupid,” Alistair quipped.
He walked into the kitchen and stopped when he saw Julian.
The two men stared at each other. The tension was palpable—Alistair, the rough-edged king of the underworld; Julian, the broken aristocrat. Allies by necessity, rivals by nature.
“You’re standing,” Alistair noted, setting the wine on the counter.
“I’m trying,” Julian said, his eyes narrowing. “Nice sling. Still recovering from the debris p>
“Concrete blocks tend to leave a mark,” Alistair said, touching his shoulder. “Better my shoulder than my head p>
“Sit down,” Skye ordered, pointing to a stool. “Both of you. If you start measuring testosterone levels, I will poison the sauce p>
Alistair sat.
Skye poured three glasses of wine.
They ate in the kitchen, the silence punctuated only by the scrape of forks against porcelain. It was an odd tableau: the three survivors of the Sterling-Kensington-Thorne war.
“So,” Julian said, twirling pasta on his fork. “How bad is the fallout p>
“Disastrous,” Alistair said, taking a sip of wine. He looked at Skye. “The press is calling it ‘The Wedding Day Massacre.’ They found traces of C4. Homeland Security is crawling all over the ruins. It keeps the Syndicate distracted, but it also means we can’t move freely. Everyone is watching p>
“Do they suspect Liam is alive?” Skye asked sharply.
“No. They found… biological matter. Enough to assume he was at ground zero,” Alistair said grimly. “Officially, he’s ‘missing, presumed dead.’ It buys him time p>
He reached out and brushed his hand against Skye’s left hand, where the massive diamond engagement ring—a prop for the trap—still sat.
Julian watched the interaction. His jaw tightened, a microexpression of jealousy he couldn’t quite suppress.
𝖮𝘧f𝘪c𝗂al s𝗈𝘶𝗿𝗰е 𝗼𝘧 𝘁𝘩𝗶ѕ nо𝗏е𝘭 𝗼𝗇 𝘣e𝗹ոо𝗏е𝗹ѕ.𝘤𝗈𝗺
“Are you going to keep it?” Julian asked quietly.
“The ring?” Skye looked at the stone. It was cold and heavy. “No. It belongs to the mission. Once this is over, it goes back in the vault p>
“Good,” Julian said.
“Why good?” Alistair challenged, leaning forward. “You think you have a better one in your drawer, Vance p>
“I think Skye isn’t a trophy to be passed around between men who use her as bait,” Julian shot back.
“I didn’t use her,” Alistair growled. “I protected her p>
“By putting her in a dress and letting her walk into a bomb site p>
“Stop it!” Skye slammed her glass down. Wine sloshed over the rim, staining the white marble red. “Both of you. Stop p>
She stood, breathing hard.
“Liam is out there, alone, infiltrating a cult of murderers. Celeste is circling like a shark. And you two are bickering over a fake engagement? Grow up p>
She turned to the sink and started scrubbing a pan, her movements angry and jerky.