21. Amal
AMAL
Idrop my purse loudly on the table, rattling the silverware and the stupid fancy everything and glare at my husband.
“You think I need a babysitter? Two?”
“Four, actually,” he says, grinning that grin he always manages so easily. He rises to his feet and has the nerve to lean in for a kiss.
I drive my elbow into his side. He deserves that for leaving me to be babysat. I’m careful not to hit his knife wound so points to me.
A chuckle shifts my attention to the other man at the table. Severin Blackstone. Jet’s older brother.
“Something funny?” I ask.
“Certainly not,” he says, wiping the corner of his mouth before standing.
I know Severin from sight and he knows me but we’ve never really crossed paths.
“You must be my new sister-in-law.” He is as tall as Jet with dark hair and steel grey eyes that make me think of a werewolf.
His suit is custom, obviously. This man drips money.
But of course, he does. He’s a Blackstone.
“I’m Jethro’s brother, Severin.” He extends a hand.
I look at it, then up at him and see some similarities between him and Jet.
Although physically apart from height and hair color, they don’t share any more commonalities in features, they have a similar look in their eyes.
Where Jet’s wildness is something unhidden, a threat staring you in the face, I get the feeling Severin is no less dangerous, just a little more subtle.
Fire and ice. Both are deadly under the wrong circumstances.
“Amal Lombardi.” I shake his hand. His grip is warm and firm, but I don’t miss the slight squeeze. A warning. Big brother looking out for his little brother, I guess.
“Malek Lombardi’s daughter,” he says, not yet letting go of my hand.
“I try not to lead with that.”
“Understandably so. Didn’t he try to kill my brother?”
“Luckily, he missed. But I might finish the job.” I slip my hand from Severin’s and turn to Jet.
“Now that you’re here, darling,” Jet starts, pulling out my chair. “Sit.” Jet glances at Malcom who is gritting his teeth but, at a nod from Jet, walks back out to the lobby.
As soon as we’re all seated, the waiter returns to set a place for me and pours me a cup of coffee.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “Did you order already?” I ask the brothers, picking up the menu.
Severin Blackstone didn’t fly out here on a whim.
What happened last night has everything to do with why he’s here and there’s no way I’m letting Jet send me home while he and his brother deal with this secret society.
“Not yet,” Severin says.
“Jet didn’t get to eat dinner last night so I’m sure he’s hungry. We were interrupted by your call,” I say to Severin with a saccharine smile.
Severin just smiles casually and picks up his coffee.
“I’m glad you two got to meet formally, finally,” Jet says.
“I bet,” Severin and I say in unison.
“I was just filling Sev in on our activities of last night.”
Silence falls as the brothers study one another, smiling only whenever they turn to me. It’s awkward.
“How was your flight?” I ask Severin.
“Uneventful.”
I pick up a scone which is in a basket at the center of the table and pick off a piece. Not bothering with jam or butter, I pop it into my mouth and chew while continuing to scan the menu.
The silence extends.
A few moments later, a waiter arrives. I’m confused when, rather than taking our order, he sets three plates before us each steaming with a full Scottish breakfast that smells amazing.
“Wrong table. We haven’t ordered yet,” Jet says.
The waiter assures us he has the right table and quickly walks away.
Severin’s gaze falls to the restaurant’s entrance. His body visibly tenses and Jet, seeing this, turns.
“Fuck.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Before either of them answers, before anyone gets another word in, the hostess arrives at our table and clears her throat. She appears anxious as she glances around the restaurant.
“Mr. Blackstone, Mr. Blackstone,” she says, addressing the brothers. She’s carrying a silver tray that she lowers, and I see on it is a black envelope of heavy stock sealed with blood red wax. Three letters are embossed onto it.
I V I
“This came for you. I was instructed to tell you it was urgent.”
I watch the brothers, see how Severin’s face tenses, a line forming between his brows.
Jet grits his jaw. He reaches for the envelope before Severin can.
He doesn’t bother thanking the hostess who looks like she can’t wait to get away from us.
He breaks the seal and reads the letter.
From what I can see, it’s brief and written by hand in a pretty, old-fashioned calligraphy.
He holds the letter out to his brother. Severin takes it from him and scans it, his eyes narrowing. The brother’s look at each other.
“No,” Jet says.
“What?” I ask.
“Car’s outside,” Severin says, eyes on Jet.
“I said no,” Jet repeats.
“What?” I ask more urgently and when neither answer, I snatch the letter and read it. It’s just a few lines, the tone formal, not unfriendly. Definitely not leaving room for refusal.
Dear Mr. Blackstone, Mr. Blackstone and Ms. Lombardi,
Transportation has been arranged to escort you to the Isle of Elysium. Your belongings are being gathered and will be delivered to your accommodations upon arrival at the estate.
We trust you will enjoy your breakfast before departure.
As always, The Society remains at your disposal.