Page 125 of The Forbidden Note

It doesn’t help that we’re in the perfect setting for a black-and-white murder mystery. The Boardroom is a depressing restaurant with heavy velvet chairs, dull lighting and old, outdated furnishings.

Their only claim to fame is a cigar rack that takes up most of one wall.

Whoever thought of putting a cigar shop and a restaurant in the same room needs to get their head checked.

I cough and blow the scent of tobacco smoke away.

“Here,” Zane says, handing me a handkerchief, “use this.”

“Thanks.”

Our fingers graze lightly when I take the cloth from him. Even that simple touch sparks heat through my body.

His eyes burn, and I can tell he felt it as strongly as I did.

“Jarod,” mom says, looping her hands around her husband’s arm, “you didn’t have to take us out. I told you I’d be happy to cook for you.”

“No need. Since I’m back in town for a night, I wanted to treat you to a nice meal.”

Mom’s lips curl up, happy with the crumbs he tosses at her.

“I also wanted to talk to the boys.” Jarod’s eyes dart between Dutch, Zane, and Finn. “I couldn’t believe it when I got the call from Harris saying they’d been suspended.”

His accusation is sharp and cold.

I can feel the tension whipping around the table like a storm.

Mom laughs nervously. “Why don’t we eat first before discussing anything unpleasant?”

“Yeah, dad,” Dutch says, leaning back in his chair, “while we eat, you can tell us all about the tour. When does it start again? I haven’t heard anything in the news.” Jarod’s expression barely shifts, but there’s the tiniest clench of a muscle in his jaw when Dutch says, “You need to fire your publicist. They made you look like a liar.”

“I didn’t know you were so interested in my tour, Dutch.”

Mom clears her throat. “Wow, this asparagus is so flavorful. Boys, have you tried the asparagus?”

I want to face-palm. Mom is trying so hard to smooth things over, but there’s no stopping this war. If we step in the middle, we’re getting skewered.

“You three are old enough to know better.” Jarod Cross cuts into his steak with a serrated knife. Blood oozes out of the centre. Carelessly, he sops it up and pops it into his mouth.

Squeamish, I glance away.

Jarod’s eyes shift up, two pools of velvety blackness. “I’ll be running for the chairman seat. You three should represent me well.”

“What do we have to do with your stupid chairman run?” Zane spits.

Jarod Cross chews carefully. “Why would anyone trust me to run Redwood if I can’t even show that I can run my own house?”

“Honey, don’t be so hard on them. They only fought to defend Gracie. They may have gotten suspended, but it was for a noble reason.”

“Noble?” Jarod’s eyes cut to me and it feels like an ice cube slithers down my back.

Has he always been that sharp? That dangerous looking? Or is it that I was blind before and the boys ripped the scales from my eyes?

“Is that what you think, Miss Jamieson?”

I lick my lips. “I think things will settle down soon.”

“I’m sure you’re hoping for that. I heard you’ve been quite the star at Redwood lately.”

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