Page 52 of Iced Out
He considered. “They’ve been buying up permits. Mostly in the south district. Quiet moves. Nothing flashy. But the volume is… notable.”
“Is Lorne involved?” I asked. It seemed if something was going down, he was already in the thick of it. Even though he was a partner, he was more enforcer.
“Not yet,” Dad hedged. “But he’s aware. And keeping Dunn close.”
The door opened then, and Lorne stepped inside as if he’d heard his name. Probably had. The man had a sixth sense for power shifts.
His hair was black with subtle caramel highlights. Tall, with broad shoulders, his presence dwarfed the room in a brutish manner that everyone in his vicinity noted. His custom-tailored suit failed to contain the ruthlessness he wore as a second skin.
He paused at my father’s side, whispering something in his ear. My father nodded once.
Lorne moved to Drew next, clapping a hand on his shoulder in passing. The gesture looked casual. But Drew stilled as if someone had pressed pause on his spine.
I watched that touch, memorized it. That was Lorne’s version of affection. A hand on your shoulder, heavy enough to mean something, light enough to leave you worrying what. I couldn’t help but wonder if that meant Drew had redeemed himself and was moving up in Lorne’s eyes in regard to the company.
Lorne stepped back after the shoulder touch and gave a quick nod toward my father. “Just wanted to pass along that information, Grant. I’m off to that client dinner,” he addressed to Dad, voice smooth but efficient. “Eleanor. Always good to see you. I’ll head out—don’t let the first course get cold.”
No one laughed, but my mom offered a tight smile.
My dad stood long enough to walk him out. Their voices were low, blurred by the thick walls and heavy doors this house was built for. When he returned, he paused behind his chair, scanning the table, taking stock—of us, of the silence, of whatever came next. Then he sat, smooth and unbothered, as if nothing had shifted at all. Dinner resumed.
Discussion swirled around permits and council votes. My mom asked about a gala. Claire responded with a planned guest list and seating charts. Drew stayed mostly silent, which was never a good sign.
My father caught my eye near the end of the meal. “You’re handling Elise?”
“Yes.” It was subtle but permission nonetheless to release me from the constraints of his “be nice to Elise” mandate. Not that I was following it anyway. I needed to lock things down with the guys soon—tighten the ranks. Get ahead of whatever storm Dunn was planning to send our way, using his daughter.
His nod was final. “Good.”
Mom didn’t move on so easily. Her gaze flicked to me, intensity flanked by the glint of her diamond earrings. “Speaking of unexpected returns… I heard Mila Callahan is back in town?”
The entire table shifted. Claire froze, caught mid-motion, her wine glass suspended mid-air. A muscle twitching near Drew’s temple. My father had already warned me about Mila. In the silence, he didn’t speak—he just observed, calculating. That was when he was most dangerous.
My mom’s voice was deceptively casual. “You were close to that girl before, weren’t you?”
I didn’t answer right away. That would’ve given too much away. “I’ve seen her around,” I said finally. “We’ve talked.”
“More than once?” she asked, as though she already knew the answer. As if the question were a test.
“Once or twice.” I kept my tone flat.
She nodded, not pleased but not surprised either. “Be careful. Her mother caused… issues, the last time they were in town. That’s why she was fired.”
Claire didn’t look up. Drew’s stare was locked on the plate in front of him. My father’s fingers tapped once then stopped.
“The problem wasn’t just what she did—it was who she did it to. The wrong people remember, Luke. And they don’t forget. Stay away from Mila, she’ll only bring trouble to our doorstep.”
I didn’t ask what she meant. Her tone already told me. This wasn’t a warning—it was a command. And if I didn’t obey, the fallout wouldn’t land on just me. It would hit everyone. That was the promise. And if Mila didn’t see it yet… she would.
But inside, I wasn’t good. Because Mila’s kiss was still there. And while the rest of the table talked about threats and positioning and public perception, all I could think about was the girl who tasted of salt and storm and home.
The one I couldn’t stay away from. And the one I couldn’t afford to chase. Not if I wanted to survive what was coming.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MILA
Luke’s kiss pulsed under my skin like a second heartbeat—impossible to ignore. I’d tried. I went to the studio along the boardwalk across from the beach to think, to escape. I put my phone across the room. Stared at a blank canvas for twenty minutes. Ignored Avery’s texts—three so far, asking if I was coming back out, which I didn’t plan to. Because no matter how much I wanted to run into Luke and have it happen again, it couldn’t. Too much still hung between us, unresolved.
