Page 71 of Wasted

Though she stood as tall and undaunted as ever, apparently the leader of their family when her dad wasn’t around, Cillian didn’t miss the exhaustion that paled her cheeks and filled the eyes she aimed his way. His ribs squeezed tighter.

She probably hadn’t closed her eyes once all night in that place. How could she? Perfect Victoria who’d followed every rule in her life in a jail cell?

It was beyond unfair. It was cruelty and injustice. If he ever saw McCully again, Cillian might do something that could get him arrested.

“Let’s pick this up later, guys.” Cillian tossed her siblings a quick glance, then stepped closer to her. Exactly where he’d wanted to be the whole time. He cupped her elbow through her coat as he bent his head slightly toward her. “I’ll take you home.”

“Good idea.” Robert’s reply drew her attention to her brother, but she didn’t pull away. “Sleep will really help right now. How about you take the day to rest, and we’ll meet at my house tonight at six for dinner.”

“You’re going to cook?” Treese raised a carefully plucked eyebrow.

“My favorite dish.” Robert grinned. “Pizza from Renny’s.”

“Of course.” Treese rolled her eyes as Hank and Spring laughed.

“You’re welcome to come, too.” Robert looked at Cillian.

Surprise filtered through him. He probably would’ve insisted on showing up with Victoria anyway, but to be invited by a Weston was unexpected. Apparently, Robert didn’t share his father’s prejudices. And neither did the others, judging from the smiles they gave him.

He glanced down at Victoria. She didn’t look his way, but she leaned, just slightly, into his supportive hold. His pulse stopped altogether. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter

Twenty-One

This scene was almost as surreal as spending a night in jail. It was far less unpleasant, but still hard to comprehend.

Nothing was amiss in Robert’s professionally cleaned home, other than the fact that the large, modern house, decorated by interior designers in a minimalist white aesthetic of harsh lines, abstract art, and black accents, had little in common with the house’s owner. His casual attire tonight—khaki shorts and a blue college sweatshirt—made the incongruity obvious. But that oddity was a familiar one.

Cillian sitting beside Victoria on Robert’s white sofa with all her siblings present was much more inconceivable.

Merely being so close to Cillian was playing havoc with her senses. The spicy cologne she’d caught whiffs of when he’d first sat down kept teasing her nostrils. Thankfully, he hadn’t sat improperly near to her, but she had caught Spring and Treese exchange a conspiratorial look when he’d immediately rested his arm on the back of the sofa behind her.

This wasn’t good. What if their father learned Victoria was associating with Cillian outside of work?

For that matter, what if he learned she was involving all his children in the murder charge and investigation? He would be furious, and rightfully so.

“Okay, now that Robby and Hank have devoured the pizza, maybe we can get to why we’re here.” Treese shot a pointed glance at Hank as he transferred the last piece of meat lovers’ Chicago style to his plate.

He tilted his head up to squint at Treese from his position on the floor next to her crossed legs. “What do you care? You got your quinoa salad all to yourself.”

She leaned forward on the sofa cushion with a grin and tousled Hank’s blond curls on top of his head. Thank goodness she kept her legs crossed. Why she’d chosen to wear that second-skin mini-skirt that revealed nearly all of her shapely legs to a family dinner was beyond Victoria.

Unless it was for Cillian’s sake. Victoria’s stomach tightened at the possibility. He was extremely attractive, and a confident rebel who enjoyed adventure and risk. Exactly the type of man Treese loved to seduce.

She did keep glancing his way with a sultry smile playing on her lips. As she was doing that very moment. “I want to know more of the story here with Cillian and Victoria.”

Victoria tensed. Leave it to Treese to take the conversation there.

“It’s hard to picture you two as high school friends. You’re so…different.”

“You’d be surprised.” Cillian’s arm shifted behind Victoria, his shoulder moving slightly closer as he turned his head to look at her. “We were very close.” His tone and emphasis added meaning to the standard phrase.

She kept her focus forward, not daring to look at his face so near to hers. She’d already noticed how handsome he looked in the black turtleneck that intensified the richness of his coal eyes and dark features.

“Really?” Treese lifted one skeptical eyebrow. “Did you date?”

“No.”