Page 81 of Wicked Mafia Sinner

"But I look better than you."

"Both true." Soren pulls back, straightens his jacket, and grins.

My gaze bounces between them. “So what? All the growly stuff was just for show?” Call me disappointed. I kinda like the possessive streak he showed.

Rowan winks at me, pulling me into his side.

Raine watches the hug and bumps me with her shoulder. In a low voice she says, "I brought him as my muscle. He was supposed to intimidate people on my behalf. Instead, he hugged every one of these men and proceeded to tell me they’re old friends."

"He was never going to be your muscle," Rowan says, and his eyes move to Soren with a look that carries a conversation I'm not part of. "Soren doesn't hit people he can negotiate with."

"I do occasionally hit people," Soren says mildly. "When the negotiation requires it."

“I hate to break up the bromance.” Raine swipes to a different screen, and angles it toward me. "But here's the part that really matters."

Petals & Thorns.

My flower shop. The pale blue awning I painted myself on a Sunday morning with Raine holding the ladder and telling me the color was too whimsical for a business that wanted to be taken seriously. The window display I changed every two weeks now looks dead and abandoned. My heart aches for all the work I put into the shop only to see it so run down.

Yellow police tape stretches across the front door in a jagged X. A news article headline fills the bottom half of the screen, but I can't read it because my vision has gone blurry.

"The article came out two days after the video." Raine's voice shifts, softer now. "I’m sorry baby girl. I know it hurts.” She takes my hand. “Someone killed a man in the alley behind your shop. The police found evidence of what they called 'organized criminal activity.' They roped off your shop as a secondary crime scene."

"I know." My voice comes out steadier than my hands, which are shaking against Rowan's fingers. "I was there, Raine. I was in the shop when it happened."

The color drains from her face. Her fingers tighten on my forearm until the pressure registers as pain.

"You were in the shop."

"It’s how I ended up slung over his shoulder and why I went off grid."

I spend the next ten minutes filling my sister in on all the details about the man, Nikolai, the dirty cops and my wish.

"Jesus Christ, Cora." She grips my arms with both hands.

Raine's jaw tightens. The muscles along the sharp line of her face tense. "I knew you were alive. Our missed calls told me that. Every time my phone went to your voicemail I told myself if you were dead I would feel it. Twins feel that, right? We're supposed to feel that." Her voice cracks on "feel" and she clears her throat, sharp and deliberate. She never was one to let her emotions show. "But I couldn't get here fast enough."

"Where were you?"

Raine's eyes flick toward Soren. The glance lasts less than a second, but it carries the weight of something she's not ready to say in a room full of me. Soren's expression doesn't change, but his jaw shifts, a micro-movement that I’ve learned to recognize in Rowan.

"That's a story for another time." Raine reaches for me again, grips my forearm, and holds on.

A throat clears behind me. I turn, and the lobby comes back into focus with the sudden sharpness of a camera adjusting depth of field, pulling the background into clarity after minutes of soft blur.

The brothers. They’ve stood patiently waiting for all of us to finish.

Six of them, arranged across the marble floor in a loose formation that looks casual and is absolutely not. They've been standing back during the reunion, patient.

“Oh my god. How rude of us all. I am so sorry. It’s been a whirlwind of chaos.”

Mortification drains the blood from my face.

The one I suspect is Rafael Milano steps forward first. He’s taller than I expected. His dark hair is threaded with silver at the temples. Warm gray eyes offer the same comfort as his gentle grip when he takes my hand.

"Cora." His voice is the smooth verbal equivalent of aged whiskey. "Nice to finally meet the woman who has melted our brother's frozen heart. And don’t worry about it. It was nice to see you and Ms. Vale reconnect. That’s not something we witness a lot in our line of work."

I suspect not. But I keep my commentary to myself.