Page 133 of Painted Truths

Shooting Nate a look that would have a lesser man quaking in their boots—and entirely reminiscent of her oldest brother—Mila hugs Henry and me before awkwardly patting Alex's shoulder in farewell. I guess it's a start.

Before she can leave though, Henry reaches for her again, pulling her roughly against his chest. His voice crackles ever so slightly, the only indication of his barely held emotion as he whispers.

“I love you, Mouse.”

My throat closes up when I hear his nickname for her. This man of mine, who’s spent years perfecting his ability to reject the world before the world can reject him, and his penchant for nicknaming the women he loves.

“One time. That’s all you get.” Her words are muffled against his chest before she pulls back and looks up into his face. “I love you, too.”

They smile softly at one another for a moment before Mila shoves Henry away.

“Enough with this soppy crap. You’d swear we’d just escaped from a life-or-death sitch!”

Moving toward the garage as she cackles at her own joke, Mila shouts back in our direction, "I'm driving."

Nate rolls his eyes before raising his hand in farewell, about to take his leave when Henry's words stop him. "Why did you take the blame, Nate?"

A half-smile playing at the edge of his lips, Nate shrugs. "My gun, my responsibility, brother.” The two men embrace for a long moment before Nate slaps Henry’s back, pulling back with a chuckle.

“Besides, she's just a kid, for Christ's sake."

Both men nod in understanding as Nate follows in Mila’s footsteps. I catch hold of Alex’s hand when Henry throws his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close so that he can clap his palm down on his brother’s shoulder too. The three of us draw strength from each other as we cross toward the garage.

As we reach the massive entry, Nate peels out of the garage with Mila in the passenger's seat of a white sports car that has both men whistling.

“Lamborghini Aventador. Sweet choice!" Alex's exclamation makes Henry smile broadly while our trio walk toward the garage to follow Nate’s lead.

The love of expensive sports cars obviously runs in the DeMarco family.

I'm barely through the massive door when, despite the horrors of today, a huge smile breaks across my face as I hear the brothers begin to bicker about the finer points of Porsche versus Maserati. Although their words are gibberish to my ears, I can't help but draw solace from their brotherly antics.

Everything is going to be okay.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Olivia

We've almost reached the city, when we get the call from Nate that he'd dropped Mila home safely to her exuberant mother, Charlotte, who had proceeded to bestow hugs and kisses galore on her daughter's knight in shining armour, as she had called him, to the point of discomfort.

"You owe me, dickhead."

Henry's mouth draws up at one side as he answers with unmistakable sincerity in his words. "Anytime, Nate."

Henry is about to disconnect the call, when Nate's voice comes through the speaker again. "And try to keep our girl safe from gun-wielding psychopaths while I'm not around. I can't guarantee I'll be able to swoop in and save the day the next time."

"She's my girl, you wanker."

Nate's laughter rings through the car as the call ends, with Henry shaking his head and mumbling, "That prick needs to find his own ass and stop looking at mine."

Biting my lip to quell the rising laughter, I look out the window at the city lights until I get myself under control.

Instead of dropping Alex at his own place, Henry drives straight to the underground car park by his building, instructing his brother that he'll be spending the night with us.

Alex nods mutely and just continues to hold my hand in the back seat as he has done the entire drive back.

Still being barefoot, Henry insists on giving me a piggyback ride, both of us chuckling softly, appreciatively, when we catch sight of my blackened feet in the lift mirrors.

Putting me down onto the heated marble flooring of the penthouse, Henry drops a kiss on my forehead, then walks to the island in the centre of his open-plan kitchen before opening a drawer and flourishing a whole host of delivery menus from within.