Page 51 of A Vicious Love

Just enough to acknowledge rank, danger, and the sudden horrifying fact that I had been talking to Jamison Crow’s grandfather like he was a harmless stranger with an interest in brushstrokes.

“Mr. Crow,” I said.

“Sienna Bellemere.”

“I didn’t realize it was you,”

“No,” he replied. “You didn’t.”

I swallowed. “I hope I wasn’t disrespectful.”

“By answering a question?”

My fingers tightened. “I spoke too much.”

“Did you?”

I had no idea how to answer that.

He turned back to the painting. I followed his gaze because looking directly at him felt dangerous and looking away first felt worse.

“The artist changed the shoulder,” Damius said.

“I like that part.”

“Why?”

I looked at the painting, then at the faint correction under the final layer of paint. “Because it proves they were trying to get it right.”

Damius said nothing.

My heart was beating too hard. I wondered if he could hear it. Crows always seemed like they could hear weakness from across rooms.

“What brings you to Harlan, Mr. Crow?” I asked, then immediately wished I hadn’t.

His eyes returned to me. I had asked Damius Crow why he had left Villain.

What the hell was I thinking.

I bowed my head slightly. “Forgive me. That was intrusive.”

“Was it?”

“I don’t know.”

That was honest at least. A faint expression crossed his mouth.

“Your family had its monthly dinner last night,” his eyes moved over the painting.

Every wall in Harlan had ears if Crows cared enough to listen.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Your cousin married well.”

“Yes.”

“Your father must be pleased.”