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I finally let her go, moving to the bedroom to pull on joggers. That’s when she fires up the blow dryer.
I’ve no more than slapped the elastic low on my hips when a loud knock sounds on my door.
Fuck.
I enter the living room. “Who the fuck is it?”
“Tris,” my brother barks back. “Open the damn door.”
I stomp over, a scowl surely pulling at every feature of my face. I’m wrung out and the last thing I want to do is spar with Triston. I throw open the door, snarling. “I don’t just show up at your fucking house, you know.”
“I don’t go around killing people I was specifically told not to touch.”
I open the door wider. Clearly this is a now problem. “Chloe will be blow drying her hair for the next ten minutes. That’s how long you’ve got.”
He steps in as I close the door behind me. “Does she know you killed Preston?”
“Not specifically.”
“Alexander?”
I’m not much for lying so I say nothing. Triston starts spitting. “Fuck.” He scrubs his hand down his face. “What have you done?”
“He tried to rape her.”
“So? She’s a fucking waitress you’ve known for a few days.”
I’m on him before he can even respond, taking him to the ground and dropping on top of him. I see the fear flash in his eyes, but I don’t back down. My face right in his, I spit, “Chloe is here to stay. You’ll treat her like you do Arabella or we’re going to have a real problem.”
“Jesus, Killian,” he growls back, but he’s calmer. “Get off me.”
I ease back but not totally up. “Ask Gris what he’d do if someone touched Arabella like that.”
“Arabella is his fiancée.”
Marriage. Interesting. “I just told you. Chloe is here to stay.”
“You just met her.”
“Do I usually fuck around with women? Why would I be with her if I’m not serious? That’s for you, Triston. I chose Chloe because she’s the one.”
Triston’s eyes close. “Mason told you not to touch Alexander. Do you know how much money rides on the Kincaids’ benevolence?”
“We’ve got money.” I lift off him. “I don’t give a shit.”
“I give a shit,” he pulls himself up. “I’ve worked for months on this deal.”
“Well, then, rest assured. Alexander killed Antonelli Vendetti so…Mason is getting his wish. Italians and Russians divided, because I made it look like Antonelli killed Alexander back.”
Triston smiles, his eyes lighting. “Why didn’t you say so.”
“I just fucking did.” I hear the blow dryer shut off. “Now get the fuck out.”
Triston hesitates, his mouth twitching with indecision before he finally speaks. “Killian, I know you’re attached. But what Chloe knows is a problem.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is.” My brother insists.