Page 10 of My End (Iron Fiends #10)
Tilly
I stood in front of the full-length mirror and tilted my head as I smoothed my hands down the front of my outfit.
Flowing, wide-leg pants in a soft amber hue sat high on my waist. I had cinched them with a woven leather belt I’d snagged at a flea market last year.
My blouse was sheer ivory lace with sleeves wide and billowing, and the neckline just low enough to toe the line between earthy and sexy.
Underneath, a rust-colored bralette peeked through.
It could be scandalous by dinner standards, but entirely me.
A few strands of my hair were braided and clipped back with a brass moon pin, and the rest fell wild around my shoulders.
My cheeks were flushed from the heat of the studio, and my lips glossed with a berry tint.
I had a smudge of purple paint on the inside of my wrist I hadn’t noticed until now.
I tried to scrub it off, failed, and shrugged.
“This is as good as it’s gonna get,” I muttered to myself and stepped away from the mirror.
Downstairs, the dining room was already set. Three place settings. A little hiccup of dread crawled up my throat.
Please be a mistake. Please just be an extra setting and not for a surprise guest.
I took my usual seat at the long, dark cherrywood table.
The chandelier overhead sparkled, crystal and brass glittering in the low light, and the wallpaper was a cream damask with gold filigree.
The whole room felt like a museum. It was elegant, formal, and entirely Boone. Not a damn thing in here felt like me.
Adam walked in with his usual quiet flair, a crisp linen towel over one arm. “Water?” he asked as he picked up the pitcher and began pouring without waiting for my answer.
I frowned at his tone.
“Wine?” he asked next.
I gave him a playful glare. “Do we have any sangria?”
He paused just long enough to wink. “You got it.” He swept out of the room with the empty wine glass in hand, and I blew out a sigh.
Boone was back, and the whole house had turned into a stiff, polite shell of itself.
I glanced around the dining room again and traced the thick molding along the ceiling with my eyes.
Footsteps echoed just outside the hallway, and I expected Adam to return. Instead, it was Jake.
My breath caught for half a second. His eyes locked on mine as he stepped through the doorway and lingered a beat too long before shifting to scan the room.
“You joining us for dinner?” I asked, my voice light, teasing. My gaze flicked to the third place setting.
Jake shook his head. “Just making sure everything’s good in here.”
I tilted my head. “Did you get a promotion? No more night shift?”
He smirked, and one corner of his mouth lifted. “Luck seemed to have favored me this afternoon. Boone requested me.”
A soft smile tugged at my lips. “I always knew Boone had good taste.”
The air between us crackled like static. Having Jake nearby would make this whole charade of a dinner more bearable.
Another pair of footsteps drew our attention. Adam reappeared with a tall glass of sangria and a grin. “Two of my favorite people,” he said as he set the drink down in front of me.
I laughed and shook my head. Jake didn’t say anything. Just stood a little straighter instead. See? Even he was acting all rigid now that Boone was back.
Adam turned to Jake. “Can I get you anything?”
Jake shook his head. “Just checking the room before Mr. Boone and his guest come in.”
Adam nodded. “Sounds good. First course will be out in three.”
Jake pressed a finger to the small earpiece in his right ear. “Mr. Boone is on the way now, so three minutes will be perfect.”
Adam gave a thumbs-up and disappeared through the swinging kitchen door again.
Jake moved to stand in the entryway, just beside the door, and his posture was professional, and his arms relaxed but ready. Thirty seconds later, a shadow passed the threshold, and Boone strolled in like he owned the world.
I stood quickly and forced a smile. “Boone,” I called. “It’s good to see you.”
He returned the smile and moved in to kiss my cheek. His cologne was sharp and expensive, and clung to the air even after he stepped away.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said smoothly.
Boone stepped aside, and another man followed him in.
Tall, trim, and wearing a perfectly tailored navy suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
His hair was a shade too dark to be natural, and it was styled meticulously.
His skin was smooth, but almost too smooth.
There was something off about his smile, like it had been practiced in the mirror.
Boone gestured between us. “This is one of my associates, Craig Gibbs. Tilly.”
Craig stepped forward and extended his hand. I took it and instantly regretted it.
His hand was soft, damp with lotion, and he squeezed like he was afraid to crush a grape. My spine straightened, but I forced a polite smile.
“I’ve heard your name in the news,” I said and gently pulled my hand back.
Craig’s eyes sparkled, and his voice dipped into something… flirty. “I’m assuming it was all good, Tilly.”
“It was,” I replied coolly.
“Let’s sit,” Boone said.
Craig moved to pull my chair out. I held back a grimace as he helped me sit. His hand hovered a little too long at my back, and I stiffened. There was something in the way he looked at me that screamed entitlement. Like he assumed he could have whatever he wanted.
I had news for him, but he couldn’t.
Boone took the head of the table, me to his left, and Craig to his right. Which meant I had the pleasure of staring at Gibbs’s smug face for the next hour.
Fantastic.
I glanced past him to where Jake stood against the wall, tall and composed. His eyes flicked to me briefly, just long enough for me to see the tension in his jaw, before locking straight ahead again.
Adam returned with the first course. It was a creamy butternut squash soup in shallow white bowls garnished with roasted seeds and a drizzle of sage oil. He served silently and moved with ease.
Mick, Boone’s other bodyguard, stood at the opposite end of the room with his back to us and eyes trained on the hallway beyond.
We ate in silence for a few minutes before Boone turned his attention to me. “Tilly’s made quite a name for herself in the art world,” he said and sliced his spoon through the soup. “I’m always impressed.”
I offered him a small smile. “Thank you.”
Craig leaned forward slightly and was still holding his spoon. “Are you working on anything right now?”
My gaze shifted up, just for a breath, locked with Jake’s before I looked back at Craig.
“I’m working on something,” I said vaguely.
“A commissioned piece?” Boone asked and sipped his wine.
I shook my head. “No, no. Just something that came to me out of nowhere. It happens sometimes.”
Adam entered with the main course: grilled lamb chops with rosemary reduction, garlic mashed potatoes, and grilled asparagus. A flaky roll on the side that was warm and golden.
Craig’s eyes were still on me as he cut into his lamb. I focused on my plate and chewed slowly.
“I was thinking,” Boone said, and placed his fork down, “maybe after dinner, you could give Craig a tour of the grounds.”
I choked slightly on a bite of potato and covered my mouth as I coughed and reached for my water. “I, uh… I was actually planning on getting back to my painting after dinner.”
Boone raised a brow, but I rushed on. “You know how I am when I’m in the middle of something. It was hard enough for me to tear myself away for dinner. But I did, because you’re home.”
Boone nodded slowly, like he was deciding whether to press. “Yes, I do admire your work ethic.”
Craig smirked but thankfully stayed silent.
Boone and Gibbs turned toward each other, and their conversation slipped into something political and private. Names, numbers, upcoming appointments. I tuned it out and dragged my fork through the mashed potatoes. I snuck a glance at Jake.
His jaw was still tight, and his expression unreadable. He stared straight ahead like he wasn’t even in the room.
But he was. I knew it even though Boone and Gibbs acted like they were the only important things in the room.
This dinner with Boone and Craig Gibbs was going to be the least pleasant part of my week, and I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
I just hoped the rest of the night didn’t get worse.