Page 21 of Restless Hawke

Before I can think better of what I’m saying or what it means.

But the truth should be easy to speak, and that certainly was.

I’ve never had that drive that burns through Isaac. I’ve never had the tenacity of Kennedy or the intelligence of Pope. I don’t possess the killer instincts of Atlas and Bishop. I don’t have the creativity of Jude. And I can’t connect with people the way Angelina, Alessandra, and Astrid can.

“From the day I was born, I was the odd man out—the spare.”

And nothing has changed.

She frowns slightly. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

I wave her off, not wanting to discuss the bitter Hawke family dynamics that have always surrounded me.

No…

I would much rather lose myself in her all night before I head off to the next stop and get back tothattopic of conversation. “You never answered my question.”

Her hips sway in the dress as she advances again. “Which one?”

“I asked you to spend the night.”

She clutches her bourbon in her palms. The same hands that held her cards so close to her ample chest—which is exactly what she’s doing right now. Just in a different game.

Fuck, she was good…

She doesn’t have a tell.

Didn’t give anything away while I took one look at her and felt like I was fucking crumbling. Keeping my shit together long enough to win that game took every ounce of self-control I possess. Which means I amcompletelytapped out at this point.

That explains this horrible decision and why I don’t care about the consequences of it.

Her lips curve gently into a half-smile, and her eyes dance with the kind of mix of playfulness and intent that makes my blood run hot and my cock ache again. “I’ll think about it.”

I open my mouth to reply when the elevator dings and the doors start to slide open.

What the fuck?

This is a private suite, only accessible with my room key.

If it were someone from the hotel, they would’ve called before they came up?—

The doors fully open, and I freeze.

Familiar, hard, dark eyes meet mine.

Shit.

They sent in the big guns—literally.

4

COEN

Luca stares me down with so much fire burning in his dark eyes that it’s a fucking miracle the entire room doesn’t burst into flames around me.

Well, fuck.

They didn’t send Dad, or Uncle Savage, or even Isaac. The Hawkes sent Luca fucking Abello. People routinely crumble under the scrutiny of Dad in the courtroom. People fear handling negotiations with Savage. Isaac has proven himself the best mix of both of them. But Luca personifies terror…wrapped in a $10,000 Italian silk suit.