Page 60 of Inferno

“Are you sure?”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before lifting his dark head to meet her gaze. “I’m sure.”

Prissy searched his face. Although his expression betrayed nothing, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was keeping something from her.

“Any particular reason you decided to tack on two more weeks to Manny’s punishment?Especially whenyou’rethe one who told me to go easy on him?”

Stan shrugged a shoulder. “I thought it over some more, and I decided that being grounded for a month, instead of two weeks, would make more of a statement.”

Prissy nodded slowly. “That’s a good point.”

Before she could comment further, Stan turned the tables on her. “So, did you see her before you left?”

Prissy didn’t have to ask whom he was referring to. Since Thursday night she’d been hoping and praying that he wouldn’t bring up Celeste, but she should have known better.

Several beats passed before she gave a small, defeated sigh. “Yes,” she admitted. “I saw her.”

Stan stared at her in surprise. “I thought you weren’t going to.”

“I wasn’t. But she called my hotel room and threatened to make a scene at my workshop if I didn’t agree to have dinner with her.”

“Typical,” Stan muttered with a snort of disgust.

Prissy said nothing.

“So what’d she have to say for herself?”

“Not much,” Prissy lied, ignoring a sharp pang of guilt at the thought of Celeste’s shocking confession. “We had dinner at a nice restaurant. The next afternoon, after the conference sessions had ended for the day, she took me shopping and sightseeing.”

“Did you see that fucking bastard?” Stan growled.

“Grant?” Prissy shook her head. “I refused to see himorthe condo where they’re staying.”

Stan scowled, muttering a savage oath under his breath.

Not for the first time, Prissy marveled at the personality differences between Stan and his brother. Where Sterling was calm, even-tempered and longsuffering, Stan could be brash, broodingly intense and downright ruthless when provoked. There was little doubt in Prissy’s mind that Stan would have killed Grant Rutherford with his bare hands if he’d been in Sterling’s shoes.

“When is she gonna tell Sterl that she’s in Minnesota?” Stan demanded.

“When she’s ready.”As Stan opened his mouth to protest, Prissy pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. “We agreed not to interfere. Remember?”

“I know, but—”

“No ‘buts,’ honey. We had an agreement.”

Stan clenched his jaw tightly, his eyes glittering with anger and frustration. After several tense moments, he growled, “I’m giving her two weeks to tell Sterl that she’s in Minnesota.”

Prissy frowned. “But—”

“Two weeks, Pris. My brother and nephews are more important to me than that damn woman’s need for secrecy.”

Stan’s harsh tone and feral expression brooked no argument.

After studying him for a few moments, Prissy relented with a deep sigh. “I’ll call and let her know.”

Stan nodded curtly.

Prissy reached up, using her thumb to smooth the furrow between his brows. “You keep scowling like that,” she murmured, “and your face is going to freeze into a permanent scowl.”