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I swallowed. Sheesh, what’s eating him?

“Tell me!”

“He can read people,” I whispered, staring at my hands.

Oh no. The For Sale signs would be up tomorrow.

“Read people?”

“Yes. He knows their thoughts, their feelings.”

Dylan closed his eyes and swallowed. “Really?”

I glanced at Tristan. What was going on?

Tristan was pulling at his lower lip with his thumb and forefinger as he watched Dylan intently.

Dylan shifted uncomfortably. “I need to talk to him alone,” Dylan murmured.

“What?” I looked in panic from Tristan to him and back at Tristan, whose eyebrows had shot up in surprise.

“How?” I asked.

“He can move things. Can he use a computer keyboard?” Dylan asked.

“Keyboard? Sure. I could give it a go.” Tristan grinned at me, but his smile didn’t touch his eyes.

A shiver ran down my spine. “He says he’ll have a go,” I whispered, and I tried to quell my rising panic.

What the earth was going on between them?

“Okay. Ask him if he’ll join me in my study.”

“He can hear you. Why are you excluding me?”

“I need to sort something out with him. Please, Emily. Don’t interfere.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Stay here.”

Tristan looked smug. “Me and the son of a bitch need to talk mano a mano. Don’t stress, Emily.” He disappeared while Dylan stood up and strode out of the kitchen. I heard him close his study door.

What’s going on? This was about me, I was sure.

Dylan was such a hypocrite, wanting information but then not divulging. And why did Tristan look so, so… triumphant?

Anxiety burned in my belly. I paced up and down the kitchen and kept glancing at the clock, where the minute hand dragged itself through time.

Why were they taking so long?

Dylan emerged an agonizing half an hour later, deep in concentration, his brow furrowed. Tristan materialized by the island, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

I gazed warily from one to the other.

“What? What was that about?”

“Your protection. I told you,” Tristan said with an arrogant sneer.