Page 94 of Iris
He stalks up and sticks his face close to mine, and I hug the coat tighter around me. “Don’t test me, Iris.”
Then he studies the coat, runs a finger over the too big shoulders. Thank goodness Xavier took back his coat and this is Stephan’s.
For a moment there’s a softening in his gaze, but he hides it behind his anger and frustration that his plans are going awry.
“If I have to open my friend’s jacket, will I need to kill people?”
My heart surges with love for my brother. “No. They got a beat down.”
“By someone from the Lower Side,” he says. It’s not a condemnation of where Xavier’s from, but I know Heath. He’s trying to work out how it’ll fit in with the narrative, and if it’ll bring scandal. More scandal.
“Shit, Iris.”
“They’re people.”
His eyes narrow dangerously. “Don’t try to tell me I’m prejudiced. I’m not, but I’ve got Mom, Mari, and Rue to think about. And Dahlia, if she doesn’t get a scholarship for school. She’ll need a mate, too.”
I snort. “She doesn’tneeda mate.”
“Stop acting like you don’t know everything. I’m as stuck as you are. You think I don’t want to fuck off and have a life? But I’ve got responsibilities. We all have.”
“Is that all?” I ask.
He nods, and I head for the door. “Iris?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry this happened to you. No one deserves that. Guys like Jerome and Donegal need to have their faces pummeled in.”
“There’s a but coming, isn’t there?”
“Just stay away from the Lower Side types. They’re slippery and getting caught up with them is dangerous. Not just for you, but for the family. You have your sisters to think about, too.”
“Believe me. I know.”
When I come down to breakfast, I’m in a simple black dress, one that’s down to my calves. I’m in my least chunky boots and my hair’s soft around my face, courtesy of Mari’s smart fingers.
Mom looks up at me, trying to hide the despair behind a smile and it punches me in the guts.
“Any dates today?” she asks me brightly.
“It’s too early.”
Mom nods and takes a sip of her coffee as Rue keeps her head down as she probably doom scrolls on her phone.
I turned mine off the moment Vi texted to tell me I’ve a meeting with Sophine at ten and to please not be late.
She knows me too well. It is way too tempting.
“Things change,” Mom says, fingers playing with the lacy edge of the morning tablecloth, something we don’t tend to bring out.
Actually, the place is spotless, more so than usual; it shines and gleams and citrus and fresh-cut flowers are redolent in the air.
For a moment I wonder if it’s my sense of smell, if Killian and Xavier awakened the dormant first heat in me early and I’m unfurling like a flower.
Thing is, I’m not as naïve as Violet, not as innocent as she still is. It doesn’t matter she’s having a baby, she has that air about her of the unsullied, the untouched. That’s something deep inside her.
I’m not that.
