Page 78 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

“Then why isn’t he here?” demanded Roman. “Tonight of all nights?”

And it was right then and there, of all other possible moments, that Victor Knox decided to start his meal. He picked up his knife and fork, and nonchalantly began cutting through the meat that had been placed before him. He took one bite, then another, then another still, with everyone in the room staring on in disbelief. By the time he reached for his napkin to dab at his mouth, Roman had had enough.

“At first, I thought Foley’s absence was his own way of disrespecting me,” he said, in a calm, icy cold voice. “But then I realized, a man like him would never have the balls.”

The mercenary captain’s eyes were liquid fire now. Every word that rolled off his tongue dripped with acid.

“You’dhave the balls though,” Roman prodded, “wouldn’t you Knox?”

Victor Knox chewed his meat, swallowed, and casually cut off another piece. Eventually he pointed the knife Roman’s way.

“Yes, actually,” he said, without fear. “I definitely would.”

“And yet you’re here, and he’s not,” spat Roman. He was pacing back and forth now. “Which, if he’s not disrespecting me, can mean only one thing.”

Now Victor did look up. Still clenching the knife and fork, he had both fists on the table.

“He’s dead,” Roman said flatly.

As hard as I fought to remain in control, it was just too much. Even as I ordered my body to remain still, I couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably.

“He’s dead,” Roman went on, “because if he were to leave here without waiting for my arrival he knows he’s dead anyway.”

Victor looked not only unconcerned, but slightly bemused. His eyes shifted in my direction, causing every nerve ending in my body to stand on end. I held his gaze, because to look away would be even worse.

“What do you think, Knox?”

His eyes still lingered on mine. Every nanosecond we stared at each other was pure torture.

“I think you might be right,” he said, then went back to eating.

Dorothea, already on the verge of freaking out, inched even closer to me than she already was. The poor thing wasshaking all over. If the doors weren’t guarded, I’m pretty sure she would’ve already run.

“Sir.”

The voice was loud, crisp, clear. But not confident.

“Sir, maybe he’s late.”

Roman Wynter stopped pacing. His head turned slowly, his eyes ultimately locking onto the man who spoke. It was one of Jacob Foley’s men, I realized. Some nameless, faceless asshole who’d spilled his drink earlier, then yanked on my elbow to tell me to clean it up.

“Late…”

Roman spoke the word as if it amused him. He folded his hands behind his back.

“You think he’s just… late?”

The man’s expression told everyone in the room he realized his mistake. Right now though, it was too late to take it back.

“I—I guess hecouldbe,” the man replied.

Roman started moving again. Directly toward the man who’d spoken.

“We didn’t actually check his room or anything,” the man went on. “I mean, maybe we should’ve.”

Roman stepped casually along the outside of the table. Every step closer made the entire room more uncomfortable. But not nearly as uncomfortable as the man who’d spoken up.

“W—We… I mean, I could go check now,” the man offered. “His room has been locked since—”

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