Page 41 of Envy
I wonder about the other three sometimes. Dominic is ruled by his lust, but Adrian’s greed and Bane’s gluttony can be twisted into drive if the settings are right.
The linen button-down and navy blue pants Bane wears fit him perfectly. He was born in Sicily, and even though he refuses to talk about it, we all know he ran from something.
“What’s with the frown?” Erik asks, sliding a glass of amber liquid my way. I step between Noctis and Bane, joining them at the bar as Erik pours himself a matching glass. “We’re celebrating tonight. Even Noctis turned off the screens.”
“Correction,” he says, his dark jeans and black T-shirt acontrast to Bane’s sleek style. “My program is analyzing all available information and compiling a list of our top suspects as we speak. It feels different this time.” Noctis lets out a low breath, teal-blue eyes cutting to mine.
“Like pieces are clicking into place,” Erik adds, draining his glass in one swig before reaching for the bottle to refill it.
“I too am ready for this to be over and the next phase of our lives to begin,” Bane muses.
Lifting a brow, I share a silent look with Noctis and Erik. Bane is the picture of self-control. He craves order, sticks to a strict regimen of meal preps, working out, and scheduled fucking. If one piece of his perfectly planned day is derailed… well, Bane doesn’t just lose that mask of control—he shatters all traces of civility. Moving on to an unexpected future would normally have him spiraling. I wonder what’s changed.
“We haven’t found Morana yet,” I breathe, fingers flexing around the half-empty glass as my brothers turn to face me. I drain the rest of it before meeting their stares, wishing Mavros, Adrian, and Dominic would hurry the fuck up already.
“Where’s Noctis?” Tempest’s voice calls from inside the house. She passes through the open glass doors, strolling toward us, but my gaze slips past her and lands on Evie.
Her hair is pulled back in a high bun, and there’s a splash of freckles over her pale cheeks, slightly pink after spending the day in the sun.
“Right here,” Noctis says, offering my sister an easy grin as if we weren’t just having a conversation that could change everything.
“Good.” Tempest beams before jerking a thumb behind her. “Evie needs your help blocking an asshole who won’t leave her alone.”
26
EVIE
My brother chooses that moment to call. Again. The screen lights up as my phone vibrates, drawing eight pairs of eyes to me before I can silence it.
“See,” Tempest says. Her sandals pad lightly over the river-stoned patio as she joins them at the bar. I follow, admiring the sprawling mansion that looks like it’s been plucked from the western coast of Italy, while also trying to look unbothered by Jonathan’s incessant calls. Truth is, I’m starting to get a little freaked out.
“That level of obsession is not healthy,” Tempest adds, reaching across Erik for a bottle of tequila. Silas’s eyes find mine, and I swear his pupils expand as his jaw flexes. “You really should block him, Evie.”
“I-I can’t,” I stammer, following Dominic and Adrian toward the bar.
The Los Angeles skyline stretches before us, spotted with palm trees and glittering lights in the early evening. The sky still retains hints of purple and pink, softening the harshness of the city. It’s beautiful, like all of Southern California, but I findmyself wondering what it would be like to travel the world if I had the chance.
“Youcan,” Tempest insists. She shakes a mixture of alcohol and ice, then pours me a fresh margarita with sugar on the rim instead of salt. “Noctis is unrivaled when it comes to technology. I’m sure there’s a way he can fix it.”
“He’ll know,” I reply, shaking my head. “And that will only make things worse.”
“Who is thisheyou’re speaking about?” Silas’s voice comes out smooth as silk and dripping with venom.
I swallow under his scrutinizing gaze, my heart racing. With just his voice, I’m back on the cliff, my thighs slick with a need he won’t fulfill. One that haunts me even now.
“Her brother,” Tempest answers, oblivious to the blush staining my cheeks and the spark of fury igniting in Silas’s dark green eyes. “Or half-brother, right?”
“Yes, but?—”
“He’s called her at least a dozen times today, all because she skipped one family lunch.”
“Tempest,” I warn, not wanting to get the Seven involved, but it’s too late. Noctis cocks his head, assessing me after sharing a loaded look with Silas. I hate the way they can have entire conversations with a glance.
“I can set up a forwarding number,” Noctis offers, holding out his hand. “It’ll only take a moment.”
“Perfect.” Tempest beams, finishing up her own margarita with extra lime. “Your creepy brother won’t know, and you won’t be bombarded with his constant hounding.”
“I don’t know,” I say, swallowing against the nerves twisting in my stomach. Because even if Noctis blocks Jonathan without his knowledge, my half-brother has ways of keeping me quiet—secrets and shame that have kept me complacent for years.