Page 11 of Twisted Hearts

“But only because of this.”

She grins. “Best in the city.”

“Pfft,” I shrug, nodding my chin at Callie. “Her grandmother’s is better.”

Callie’s lips twist. “I dunno. Tough call, actually.”

Dahlia smiles at me. “You’re really not still mad at me?”

“Nah, we’re good.”

She exhales as she stands, shouldering her bag. “Thank you.”

“Off to class?”

She nods. “Yeah. Venture capital risk analysis.”

“Wow, sounds like a blast,” Callie drawls.

Dahlia leans down to give me a quick hug, then she’s out the door. Callie and I stay and each lunch, mostly talking about the grand re-opening of The Banshee—our Irish pub in the West Village that was blown to smithereens on its soft opening night. The building itself took a ton of damage in the attack, and we’re now in the process of buying the entire property piecemeal from the condo owners above the bar, who have obviously all moved out. Our new plan involves using all four stories of the building for a bar, a small venue stage, and a restaurant. But it’s going to mean a lot of time and paperwork before we can even start that rolling.

After that, Callie brings up the subject of her impending arranged marriage, which she usually hates talking about since her betrothed is Luca Carveli, a disgusting troll of a west coast mafioso who’s also thirty years her senior. But as it gets closer and closer to her twenty-first birthday, when “the arrangement” comes into effect, she and I have been discussing the subject a lot more.

Sogross.

After we’re done gabbing and eating, Callie suddenly looks around and frowns. “Wow, this place sure cleared out.”

My brow furrows. She’s right. It was jammed when I arrived, and now we’re the only table here, aside from three guys having coffee in the corner. I don’t even see our waitress anywhere. Oranywaitstaff, for that matter.

Callie winces as she glances at her phone. “Shit, I gotta go. I’m supposed to meet Elsa to go over our permit applications.”

In addition to being Hades Drakos’ recent fiancée, Elsa Guin is also an extremely hotshot lawyer at Crown and Black who counts our family among her clients. She’s been helping Neve, Callie, and I with the Banshee stuff, ever since we first came up with the insane idea of opening a bar together.

“No problem, take off,” I shrug. “I’m not on a schedule for the rest of the day. I’m going to take my time finishing my coffee.”

She frowns, glancing around at the weirdly empty restaurant. “Still, it’d be really great if we could pay—”

“Cals, I got it. Really. Say hi to Elsa for me.”

She nods. “Okay, okay. I’ll get the bill next time. Oh, and I still want all the juicy details of your escapades as a cat burglar.”

I smile weakly. “Honestly? It was pretty boring. I chickened out.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Lame. All right, later tater.”

When she’s gone, I sit back in the chair, finishing the last of my coffee.

He didn’t see you.

You had your hood up.

The cameras were disabled.

He does. Not. Know.

I shiver and force myself to take a breath.

It’s going to be okay.I’mgoing to be—

---