Page 77 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

Out in the hallway, I heard a groan. Raif heard it too.

“Who’s that?”

“New friend of mine,” I quipped.

“Is he coming in here to kill us?”

I shook my head. “Only place he’s going is to the hospital,” I said. “Or maybe the dentist. But not for a while.”

Raif stood, wincing, and the pain behind his eyes said everything. His gaunt face was growing more swollen every minute. If I were to pass him on the street right now, I might not even recognize him.

“What do you think Roman’s going to do?” I asked nonchalantly.

Raif let out the mother of all sighs. “If he were smart, he’d go scorched earth on every one of his captains. Squash all this ego-driven discontent. Regain control by starting over.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst idea,” I agreed.

“But that’s not how he operates,” he went on. “Roman Wynter’s not like other people. When he gets mad, everyone’s an enemy. Everything’s a target. He doesn’t think rationally.”

“So if he thinks someone’s going against him…” I theorized.

Raif nodded sullenly.

“He’d rather burn this whole thing down.”

~ 46 ~

JOCELYN

I returned to a dining room so still, so silent, you’d think someone actually froze time. Everyone remained in their seats as the guards moved aside for us. Dorothea and I began serving the next course, while using the same cart to remove the untouched plates from the previous one.

And they were all untouched.

“That’s enough food for now,” said Roman Wynter.

It came out scornfully, but his anger wasn’t directed at us. We said nothing, acknowledged nothing. In the absolute silence, we stood off to the side.

“No one has anything to say?”

Men on both sides of the long table sat there, unmoving. The brave ones looked across at each other. The rest of them stared into their laps. Words couldn’t come close to describing the levels of tension and unease. The whole room was a powder keg, waiting for a spark.

With the suddenness of a thunderclap, the silence was torn by the high-pitched shriek of a chair being scraped across the floor. Roman stood up so quickly everyone jumped, including Victor, who so far had been rattled by nothing.

“WHERE’S FOLEY!?”

He grabbed the giant table and shook it, which was no easy feat. It was more of a tree, than a slab of wood. Still, every plate, every platter, every piece of silverware rattled and shook.

“JACOB!” Roman shouted, the veins in his neck bulging. “FOLEY!” he shouted again. “Who knows where the fuck he is? One of you does, I’m goddamn sure of it!”

Chairs shifted backward, as men sought to put distance between them and the table. But not one of them dared to stand up.

“He was here last night, right?” Roman continued. “That’s what I was told.”

It was Victor Knox who finally found his voice.

“He was.”

Heads turned in a unified wave, like the crowd at a tennis match. All eyes on the room shifted Victor’s way.

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