Page 43 of Savage Empire

Rayna

Ifeel like I’m hosting an event for three gun happy teenage boys. The lighthearted air in the apartment is not something I expected to feel while Yordan runs around, stashing weapons given to him by two seasoned mobsters. He’s like a literal kid in a candy store, smiling ear to ear while finding the best places to hide sharpened knives and loaded firearms.

His enthusiasm seems to be infectious, at least where Elio is concerned. Both of them have shared several laughs, and easy camaraderie. While Apollo doesn’t shed his typical demeanor entirely, even he seems to have lightened up. They’re havingfun,I guess.

For a while, I stood in the center of our new home, just watching them work. The locations where they’re planting weapons in my living space is something I should be aware of, after all. As someone who typically values comfort and doesn’t particularly enjoy violence, even I can’t deny that the process could be beneficial. Practical, even.

I have no idea how truly safe Yordan and I are here. It seems like it may be better to be safe rather than sorry. Both my brother and I know how to handle a gun, even if we’re not experts on the topic. Having them handy for potential dangerous situations might just be the added layer of caution I need to sleep better at night.

I decided to start working on dinner after far too long of watching them. They finished their task shortly after I began cooking, and now they’re all in the living room, chatting and hanging out like old friends.

Yordan and Elio are playing some racing game on the big screen while Apollo sits nearby, taking turns talking with them and being engrossed on his phone. He seems to have a million things to keep up with, and yet he’s decided to spend time with Yordan. And stay for dinner.

A dinner that I’mdreading.

Apollo and Elio were raised with endless resources and money. They’ve probably dined at some of the most exclusive restaurants, and had countless priceless plates of food. I doubt my home cooking will impress.

Granted, I don’t care toimpressthem. I just don’t know if I’m in the right headspace to tolerate any outright disrespect. Elio seems like he would be polite, even if he disliked what he was served. But it’s his asshole older brother I’m concerned about. I’m afraid that if Apollo makes one snarky comment about my cooking, I’ll stab him.

And I can’t stab him, not without dire consequences.

Footsteps have me looking up from my current task—chopping up crispy bacon into small pieces. My knife stills and I suppress a grimace.Speak of the devil…or I guess,thinkof the devil, in this case.

Apollo strolls into the kitchen with a casual hand in his pocket, stopping to lean against the island counter, watching me.

“Need something?” I ask, attempting not to snark.

“Yordan tells me you bake,” he says, tone unreadable. “Do you spend a lot of time in the kitchen?”

My nose scrunches up. “What’s with the bad first date trivia?”

His lips twitch. “Do you think this is a date, Rayna? Does that make Elio and Yordan our chaperones? Should I alert one of them that we’re alone together?”

I snort, dismissing his courting reference. As if he wouldcourta woman like a proper 19th century gentleman, let alone one as insignificant as me. If we were centuries in the past, Apollo would be a Lord or a Viscount, and I wouldn’t even breathe the same air as him.

“For a man that never laughs, you sure do like to tell jokes.”

“Do you spend a lot of time in the kitchen?” he repeats, tilting his head.

Sighing, I drop my head and finish up my chopping. “If I say yes, will you get to whatever point you’re trying to make?”

“Do you work at this counter the most?”

“Well, seeing as I’ve lived here for less than two days, I have no idea.”

“Do you see yourself using this counter the most?”

“Seems likely,” I reply dryly. Spinning around, I open the oven and check on the food inside. It’s nearly done.

When I turn back around, I flinch. Apollo is on my side of the counter now, inches away from me.

“Jesus,” I hiss, stepping back. “Have you ever heard of personal space?”

“Right-handed?”

“What?”

“Are you right-handed?”