Page 90 of Carnal Wagers

His place.

Locked out.

That motherfucking shithead.

I’m on my way.

Meet me at the coffee shop across the street.

Two espressos later, buried in sales and marketing files my assistant sent me, I barely noticed the purse and puffer coat plopping atop the armchair across from me. Then arms circled around my neck. In a jerk reaction, I broke the hold and almost cracked my assailant’s nose open with a palm heel strike before Maeve called out.

“Whoa.” She held her arms up. “I’m not him.”

“Merde. I’m so sorry.” I squeezed her in a hug and greeted her with cheek kisses.

“You okay?”

“Yes, of course. Just handling some things. I got carried away.”

“Ah, so he did do something. How much do I need to beat him up?”

“You don’t.” I forced a smile. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Erel’s ordering.” She sat in the tub chair beside me and hunched forward. “Wanna explain how you ended up locked out of his place?”

I shrugged. “It’s nothing. He got called in to work, and I didn’t feel comfortable staying there without him.”

She tipped her head and pursed her lips. “Smells like bull. Come on, babe. Talk to me.”

I wasn’t someone who failed. When I wanted something, I went for it, and I got it. No matter how long it took, I never gave up. It was how I’d learned eight languages, plus some Gaelic. How I’d built two companies from the ground up with barely any support from my family. It was why I was here.

After how vulnerable I’d made myself last night, telling her he’d indirectly kicked me out felt like a step toward admitting failure. I refused to do that. Anything worth doing took time. And dedication. One thing I very much had.

Erel thunked a mocha cup on the table, then collapsed in the armchair on Maeve’s coat and purse.

“Hey, off. Up, you big oaf.” She slapped at his leg until he lifted his butt and slipped her things out.

“Next time,” Erel groused in French, “ask your tail to take you back to the house.”

I perked up. “They are still there?”

“With an added three more. Plus the two government types. Three cars total. Ridiculous. It’s not stealthy at all. Or maybe that’s the point. If they are there, they can drive you. No point in waking me up.”

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“What?” Maeve urged, and I relayed the information in English. “That’s a little overkill. What is he expecting? An attack?”

Erel and I exchanged a glance. The cartel.

If Cillian gave a fling like me that much protective detail, whatever he had going down was bad beyond belief.

“You need to discuss the option we talked about with Adrien. Please.”

“He’s your brother.”

“And he’s more likely to listen to you.”

Erel grunted, unable to deny that truth.