Page 88 of Diamond In The Rough

It’s a system that, I think, works well for the duo who, beneath the business and genetic basis of their relationship, are best friends first and foremost.

“So, we know what you studied in college,” Felix inserts, drawing my eyes around. Though my attention remains rooted exactly where Micah’s finger strokes my wrist. “We know you have one brother and one sister. We know how much you make per year.”

My brow shoots high in disbelief. “That’s rude, don’t you think?”

“I think so,” Christabelle agrees. “They don’t need to know your net worth to determine if you’re connected to Wilkes.”

“Not true,” Felix counters. “We need to know if she’s getting wads of cash dropped in her bank account on the regular. Such a pattern would spark questions.”

“And you let this happen?” I meet Micah’s eyes, my temper tripping a little closer to the surface. “You let people invade my privacy like that?”

“Let them?” He gently pulls me down until I rest against his lap. I’m not entirely sitting on him… but I’m not not sitting on him, either. “I instigated the searches, Grá.”

“You’re an ass.” I find the couple opposite us and scowl. “You’re both asses. I’m not naïve to the risks of being here tonight. And if I’m to believe the media, then calling you,” I nod to Felix, “an ass may be the reason I’m not found tomorrow. But it has to be said. Both of you. Asses. You’re overbearing and rude.” Then to Micah. “And you’re not nearly as charming as you think you are.”

“But we are,” Felix sniggers. “The women we choose hardly tolerate us. It’s almost a prerequisite to a relationship with a Malone at this point. We understand they don’t like us. But I assure you,” he presses a kiss to Christabelle’s temple, noisy and breathy and obnoxious, “they love us. And love is not something a person can switch on or off at their whim.”

His eyes glitter, like he knows a secret I’m not yet ready to tell. “Love will always rule our actions. When the shit hits the fan and we’re left with a choice, love will ensure we choose correctly. So…” He purses his lips, playful, “tell us something our background check hasn’t found. I already know what’s on paper. Enlighten me with something that’s not.”

“There’s nothing to say.” Good work, stupid. Defy the don in his own kitchen. “I’m as boring as my record at the DMV.”

“She romanticizes the pieces sold in her shop.” Micah drops his forearm across my lap to keep me close. “The chest that belonged to a warrior, the desk that belonged to a queen.”

Curious, I glance back and meet his eyes. “What?”

“You want to sell each piece only to the worthy, not necessarily to the customer with money.”

“That’s because money can buy treasure, but it can’t buy class. It would be a tragedy for a scoundrel to own a piece of romantic history, when someone else, probably someone poorer, deserves it more.”

“Socialist?” Felix rolls his bottom lip between his thumb and finger. “Politically or idealistically?”

I scoff. “Can’t I just think some people warrant more, and others, less? Not every successful man deserves good things, and not every broke man should have nothing.”

“A social vigilante, then.” He insists on labeling me. Grinning, though he knows I’m insulting him. It’s hidden and vague, but I doubt anyone in this room is so unintelligent that they miss my cues. “You sold my brother the Mongolian chest.”

“Under duress.” I see now, after mere minutes spent with another Malone, that they’re all challenging and annoying. They enjoy conflict and hardly bat an eye at being called pompous, classless pricks.

“She likes to argue,” Micah counters, pressing a gentle, subtle kiss to the top of my shoulder. “She might even do that thing you do, Lix, where she keeps debating for the sake of debating. She’ll go until she’s blue in the face and her foe gives up in exhaustion.”

“A worthy opponent,” Felix snickers. “I like that. Where are your siblings?”

My heart thuds, just one hard thump that bruises the inside of my chest. “What?”

“Rapid-fire questions,” he smirks. “Also known as an interrogation. Your siblings?”

“Exist.”

He snorts. “Where do they exist?”

“Planet Earth.”

He drops his smile in an instant and raises a single, challenging brow instead. A warning that says stop fucking with me, Hale.

“My brother lives in New York,” I sigh. “My sister lives in Rhode Island. She’s still in college.”

He considers me for a long beat, while behind me, Micah’s heart beats a steady drum. I know he, too, absorbs my every word and swallows it down for later consumption.

“What is your sister studying?”

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