Page 92 of Claimed

My threat to her echoed—cross the line with Violet, and family or not, you’ll answer to me.

I shrugged. “I had to change.”

He glared at me. “No, you didn’t.”

“I have a three-year-old who expects to see his father at dinner.”

“I don’t mean giving up your free time, Kill. Your priorities aren’t with us anymore. They’re with them.”

My heart pounded. Since she’d moved in, I avoided jobs that made me miss dinnertime. I kissed Jack goodnight, tickled his sides to make him laugh, and built train tracks until my back ached. My world revolved around him.

And Violet, I gave her everything she asked. I demanded nothing in return because she kept me fed. Physically, she met my needs. Every night. Sometimes, all night. Afterward, we cuddled, and it was nice. I liked it.

“So what?” I ground out, looking at him. “Why do I have to be at the Family’s beck and call?”

He raised a brow. “You wanted a promotion.”

True. “I’m too busy for it.”

“So you’re done, just like that?”

I hated these questions. “Right now, I have more pressing concerns. I’m getting married. I’m teaching my son not to bully kids. And I’m hunting down the man who killed Elise.”

He clicked his tongue. “I thought you already did.”

“He was a hired thug.” I sighed. “Whoever it is, I’ll find them. Hiring an unprofessional like Xaden was a rookie move. They paid him through an LLC. The CEO is Travis Wilson.”

Romeo frowned. “Wilson?”

“Yeah. White-collar type. I was going to ask you if you’ve worked with him.”

“I don’t think so.”

I nodded. “And what’s even weirder? He went missing a few weeks after Elise’s death.”

Romeo drank deeply. The beads of sweat on my brother’s neck stood out like a fiery rash. So did the whitened knuckles clutching his glass.

I observed him. “What’s wrong?”

Romeo refilled his glass, shrugging. “The name sounded familiar. He might be a flooring guy.”

“No, it’s a construction company.”

“I don’t—” He cut off, his gaze flicking over my head. His pupils shrank. Then he set down the tumbler hard. “What’s she doing here?”

I turned around. “Who?”

“My ex,” he sputtered, gesturing at a tall blonde. “How’d she get in?”

She moved behind a wall before I could look at her face.

“You invited her?”

He still gaped at where she’d disappeared. “No, I didn’t fucking invite her.”

So she crashed my party. “Well, that’s bold.”

“I broke up with her,” he growled. “Twice. Now she’s stalking me?”

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