Page 52 of The Right Wrong Promise

His eyes flash, this feeling that’s there and gone in an instant.

Not vindication.

More like an acknowledgment he was right. Plus, an intense flash of disgust because I lied to his face.

But then he looks at me, green eyes like jade in the night, the firelight playing across the shadows of his face, and I know he’s waiting.

Come clean.

Right. Dear God.

I clear my throat. “The thing is, I don’t know what to say. Or how to explain it. My grandfather was—I guess you’d call him eccentric.”

“Leonidas?”

“The one and only. When I inherited this place, he left a letter saying there’s something important here. Something that belonged to him. But I don’t have a freaking clue where to start.”

Kane goes silent, like he’s taking his time thinking, slowly digesting the news.

The opposite of me.

I’m a knee-jerky kind of girl who likes to get things done. When my brother was spiraling, I practically shoved him back into the world.

“Was that so hard, Miss Blackthorn?”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“Don’t push your luck, dude. I’m telling you because yes, I invaded your privacy and I feel pretty crappy about it. And yes, you’re also living in this house, but let’s not forget who owns it. And would it kill you to call me Margot for once?”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Gonna kick us out, Margot?”

“If you piss me off enough… yeah. But the kids can stay. They’renice.” I cock my head, ignoring the warning in my belly that says this feels like flirting. “They make me think you must be doing something right. Don’t prove me wrong.”

That half smile he’s wearing blooms into a smirk.

“Just you wait until Sophie tells you how many Earths can fit in the Sun for the thousandth time. Or when Dan starts his drumming at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning,” he says dryly. “You wouldn’t believe how much laundry these kids can make. Mount fucking Everest.”

I’m laughing.

It’s so jarring, thinking of this tattooed, self-propelled ego who rarely cracks a smile running around and trying to keep up with his kids’ laundry.

The thought relaxes me, and I settle into the blankets.

“I stand by my decision,” I say.

The other corner of his mouth tips up to join the first. “Guess I’d better do my best not to piss you off then, duchess.”

“Guess so. You could also help with the big mystery, since you’re so handy.” I must be desperate if I’m asking Saint Lucifer for help.

But I’m seriously at my wit’s end.

“I could. Any idea what it is you’re looking for? What he might’ve left here?”

“Not one.” I sigh. “I’d kill for a hint, but nobody has one yet. Not my brother, not my parents, not my grandfather’s lawyer who was handling the estate.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for anything out of place.”