Page 132 of Sinful Sacrifice

We start dinner with a toast to the newlyweds. As the first course is served, Cernach gloats over some business deal he recently closed. I tune him out. He could tell me he learned the secret as to why Edward from Twilight sparkled, and I still wouldn’t pay attention.

I stare at Damien. He’s hardly spoken a word to anyone.

Neither has Riona.

“Cernach tells me you’re a dancer,” Igor comments.

I skim my gaze to him and smile. “I am.”

“What kind of dance?” He wipes the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

“Ballet. I teach now actually.”

He stares at me with more interest. “Wow, what studio?”

“Mine. The Ballet Studio.”

“Having your own studio? That’s quite impressive.”

My cheeks warm, and I hate it.

They’re only supposed to do that for the engaged man across from me.

“Maybe someday, I can come watch you dance,” Igor says, snapping my attention back to him.

“Yeah.” I shyly nod a few times while hoping Damien doesn’t lose his shit over that comment.

Igor seems nice so far, but nice guys don’t mingle with Cernach. Damien and Antonio included. I do respect Igor refusing to marry Lanie because of her age. Most guys would’ve jumped at the chance to marry her.

While she’s young, she’s also gorgeous in an innocent way. She’s a skinnier and taller version of me with lighter hair. Plenty of boys knocked on our door, growing up, asking her out, but she’s too consumed with school and dancing than dating.

“Cernach said you’re available tomorrow?” Igor continues. “Maybe we can have lunch. They have the Boston Ballet here. I could get us tickets.”

Damien slams his knife down on the table before picking it back up. He clenches his hold on the handle—so tight that his knuckles turn white.

“I appreciate the invite, but I drove my mom and sister here. I can’t stay,” I reply.

“Too late,” Cernach says like he’s been listening to the entire conversation. “I already arranged for Enya to drive your car home with Lanie. Igor will drive you home tomorrow after you spend the afternoon together.”

“Oh, you live in New York?” I ask Igor.

He nods. “I have a home there, yes. I have one in all of my favorite cities—New York, Miami, Dubai, and London. New York is my favorite, though.” A smile builds along his lips. “Although it might become more of my favorite if you’re there.”

I can’t even look at Damien this time.

“Aw,” my mom chimes in. “What a sweet thing to say.” She snatches her wine glass. “Now, that’s good husband material.”

I nearly gag at the word husband.

She’s the last person I want to determine whether someone is husband material.

“I actually asked Pippa to help me tomorrow,” Damien says, knocking back the remainder of his drink. “She’s helping me look for a house for Riona and me here in Boston.”

This time, I’m the one snatching my knife, gripping it tight.

House in Boston?

I hold up my hand. “I think you made plans with a different Pippa. That isn’t in my agenda.” I smile smugly at him.

---