"O'Connell." Sebastian lets the name roll over his tongue, the sound sensual. Running a finger over his glass and turning to Alexei, his dark eyes flare with curiosity, "Do we know any O'Connell's?"
"He was the old Alpha of the Mac tíre dubh pack," Alexei replies, lifting his whiskey and taking a generous mouthful of the amber liquid.
Cursing internally, I realize that Alexei must be piecing together Isla's age and the timing of Lorcan's demise. He might not have direct ties to the Brady family, but he's sharp enough to connect the dots.
Bass lifts a gloved hand, gently stroking his beard in contemplation. "Lorcan, right?"
Alexei nods thoughtfully, his gaze betraying a hint of calculation.
Thankfully, Grigor and several wait staff enter the dining room with the first course, interrupting Bass and putting a halt to any further questions.
I seize the soup spoon as a bowl of what appears to be chowder is placed before me, clearing my throat. "This looks fantastic. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm absolutely starving."
I catch a smirk from Alexei in my peripheral vision and interpret it as my signal to start eating, with Isla following suit.
Ignoring the subtle cue, Bass persists, his soup untouched. "I remember crossing paths with the old Alpha once or twice. I believe his name was Lorcan." He takes another sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on Isla, who now appears slightly pale as she delicately samples the soup.
"You know, you don't bear much resemblance to him."
I need to defuse this now.
Setting down my spoon with a deliberate clink against the bone china, I draw everyone's gaze to me. Once I'm sure Bass's attention is on me, I flash him a saccharine smile. "Yes, Bass, since we're discussing parents, why don't we delve into the topic of all of ours?"
I sense Alexei's hand shifting to rest on my leg, but I disregard both him and his touch. "We all know I'm clueless about my heritage," I lie, "but you boys, well, we're aware of your paternal lineage. Except for you, Damir." I cast him an apologetic glance. Only Alexei's father was privy to the details, appearing when Alexei was a toddler, but he never disclosed Damir's parentage to either man before his disappearance.
Sensing Alexei's squeeze on my leg, I realize he's likely guessed where I'm steering this conversation. However, I persist, prioritizing my duty to shield Isla over any potential fallout. "But why do we always skirt around the topic of your mothers?" I direct a smirk at Bass, who responds with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel, crimson sparks igniting behind his dark, midnight eyes.
"Enough," Alexei's voice cuts through the tension, low yet commanding, thick with intent. The atmosphere instantly shifts, his energy permeating the room.
The mothers of the elementals at this table are never broached, deemed taboo subjects—especially around Alexei. But to hell with him and with them. If they wish to probe into my family's affairs, then I'll let them feel the sting of my claws.
Running his tongue over his bottom lip, anger still palpable in his demeanor, Bass reclines in his chair and picks up his spoon. "Fine then, family is off-limits," he remarks. Just as I reach for another bite, he returns his focus to Isla, the prick. "So, Isla, care to share what you enjoy doing for fun?"
Putting down her spoon, Isla gazes back at him, her expression surprisingly calm, devoid of fear. "I dance and work."
"Dance?" Bass echoes, his interest piqued.
"Isla's quite the talented dancer," Damir interjects, his remark eliciting a hint of blush on Isla's cheeks, a welcome change from her previous pallor.
"Thank you," Isla murmurs softly.
"Dancing," Bass repeats, "where do you dance?"
"Nowhere and everywhere," Isla replies before focusing on her soup again.
"Care to elaborate?" Bass prods.
"It means Isla is self-taught and hasn't joined a studio yet, though Stephan would give his left testicle to have her be a part of his team," I explain with a proud grin. Isla gives me a grateful look in return before diverting her gaze back to the table.
"Manners, Erin," Alexei interjects, his tone devoid of menace, his hand still resting on my leg.
"Stephan. Is she that good?" Bass asks, turning to the others at the table. Alexei inclines his head subtly, and I notice Isla's cheeks flush from pink to beet red.
"Hmm, interesting," Bass leans forward, his tone suggestive, "do you move as well in the sheets as you do on the dance floor?"
I'm taken aback when Alexei reacts, slamming one of his gloved hands on the table and bringing a sudden silence to the room. This time, I reciprocate by resting my hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze in gratitude. "Okay, sex is also off the table for discussion," Bass replies. "So, what do you do for work?"
"What is this, twenty questions?" I retort, and Bass laughs, his voice rich and jovial.
"What? It's not like I don't know almost everything about everyone at this table, and I am curious. It's not every day that I meet someone so," licking his lips, he directs a smoldering gaze at Isla, "intriguing."
Great, now Bass seems intent on seducing my sister... Seriously, couldn't Alexei have given me a heads-up? I would have left her back at the Treehouse if I knew he would be here.
"I.T.," Isla replies, her tone steady, and takes another mouthful of her soup.
"You work with computers?" Alexei asks, his soup now finished, curiosity returning to his features.
"A little," Isla swallows, her delicate throat bobbing. "I help my family."
Someone just told a little fib. Who would have thought Isla had it in her? I know Isla does a lot more than just look after Griffin's affairs. But who am I to rat her out?
"Second course," Grigor announces, his team bringing several trays of salad and roast quail.
"I thought we were going to have Mac and Cheese?" I sulk when he lowers my plate in front of me.
"That's coming with the main course Cкучать Erin," Grigor's lips twitch in amusement, and he offers me a slight wink.
"Thank you, Grigor. Have I ever told you how amazing you are?"
"All the time, Miss Erin. Why do you think I keep getting Cook to make your favorites?"
Thankfully, the remainder of the meal, all five courses, goes without further incident. Alexei and Bass turn the conversation towards business, with Damir adding his opinion now and then.
Finishing the last mouthful of dessert, I stand and move to dismiss myself and Isla.
"Erin, I would like to see you in the den in an hour. I have some business to discuss," Alexei tells me, and I roll my eyes in response.
I respond, waving a hand in front of my outfit, and I swear I see heat in Alexei's eyes. Standing, I grab Isla's arm and practically drag her out of the chair, heading towards the exit.
"I'll see you around, mia deliziosa," Bass salutes us with his glass as we exit, giving Isla a not-too-brotherly look.
"Stay away from him," I caution my sister as we make our way down the hall and thankfully out of earshot. "He's nothing but trouble."
***********************************************
"I wish you'd have warned me that Bass was coming early." I sulk and lean back into the soft leather of the chesterfield.
Over the past 30 minutes, Alexei has been discussing his plans for Yule. However, my thoughts keep returning to dinner and our unexpected guest.
"You knew this was a possibility. Most of the leaders will be in attendance. What baffles me is why you decided to bring your very innocent friend into the viper's den," Alexei remarks with a smirk from behind his desk.
Gone is his usual dark suit and tie; instead, he's donned his favorite fitted black cashmere sweater and matching chinos. Sometimes, when he enters a room, I feel like shouting, "I'm Batman!"
Unlike my dark counterpart, I opted for bright colors, donning a hot pink sweater and light grey yoga pants.
"I obviously didn't think it through, did I?" I snap, growling when Alexei's smile widens. The Asshole clearly has an agenda. "Well, I'm glad you're finding this amusing. I thought you were supposed to be the protector of innocent women. Or did I misunderstand your behavior at dinner?"
The smile immediately fades as Alexei sits back in his chair, his gloved hands resting on his overly polished desk. "Mой маленький спитфайр, I don't take pleasure in seeing your friend uncomfortable. It's quite the opposite, for your information."
Then why were you smiling?"
"I enjoy witnessing your fire. Your passion for others, even if it's only for a very select few, is one of the things I admire about you." Alexei continues, pushing his chair back and walking toward the sofa. His long legs move gracefully as he reaches my side. Lowering himself, he raises a gloved hand, the smooth leather delicately tracing the side of my face. "I hope that one day, you'll defend me with the same passion."
I swallow thickly and lick my suddenly dry lips. Heat flares in Alexei's eyes at the action before he shakes his head and refocuses his gaze on mine. "Passion aside, I think it would be wise for you and Isla to move yourselves to the west wing." My face immediately tenses, and I know I'm frowning. "Princess, you know you'll be living there soon, and it has better wards. It's not just for your safety but for Isla's."
And there it is, his agenda. Damn him. He knows just how to play me. I bet he told Bass to come early, knowing he would take an interest in Isla. Alexei has been trying to get me to move into those rooms for years. But maybe he's right. Noticing my resolve has shifted, Alexei grins again and stands, moving back to his desk. Reaching over to an intercom, he activates it.
"да Мастер." Grigor's voice floats into the room.
"Organise for Erin and Isla's belongings to be transferred to the west wing."
"да Мастер, и в какие комнаты?"
Grigor has just inquired about which room, and internally, I groan, fully aware that Alexei must be doing an internal happy dance at finally getting his way.
Watching me, Alexei's smile widens, "Put them both in the Belle suite."
"да Мастер." Grigor agrees and ends the call.
"I assume you're fine with sharing the suite with your friend," Alexei states as he moves back towards the sofa.
The Belle Suite, like the Belle garden, belonged to his mother. It consists of a master bedroom with a private sitting room, a spacious bathroom, and two other rooms—one serving as a study and the other as a nursery, currently used as a spare room.
As Alexei's fiancée and soon-to-be wife, these rooms will be mine. I shudder at the thought, knowing that the master suite also connects directly to Alexei's bedroom.
"You know, I do hope that in time you'll share my room rather than keep your own," Alexei murmurs, his words laced with heat.
I should be flattered by his desire, and sometimes I am. But right now, I feel suffocated. I choose to nod instead of responding, so my words don't betray my true feelings.
"Good. Now, I need to ask you something about our Маленький волк."
I bite the inside of my cheek and wait for him to continue.
Running a gloved hand along his smooth chin, Alexei blinks slowly, his blue eyes flashing with something before his face clears and his features go blank. "How old is she?"
Biting deeper into the flesh, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth, I quickly do the math. I know that Aisling was pregnant with Isla within weeks of her capture, so that would make her 23. The timeline between Lorcan's death and Isla's conception is so close that even the RANCH members, except Siobhan, Eileen, and possibly Patrick, believe her to be an O'Connell.
I stall, "I don't know, actually," blinking up at him, I release the flesh of my cheek and run my tongue over my lips. Alexei's focus immediately follows my motion, and the air becomes thick.
"She hasn't told you?" Alexei replies, but I sense his focus has shifted.
"No, she—" I begin, but we're interrupted by a knock at the study door.
Thankful for the disruption, Alexei straightens and clears his throat, "Enter."
Grigor enters, with Isla quietly standing behind him. " Cкучать Isla wanted to speak with Cкучать Erin about the changes in her lodgings," he announces.
Standing, I immediately approach Isla. I shake my head when her gaze darts around the room before settling on the chess set, sitting off to the right of the chesterfield and currently untouched.
"Sorry, hun," I tell her, and Isla's eyes refocus on mine, "we decided to move our things to the west wing. There will be a few guests arriving in the next 24 to 48 hours, and we thought it would be better for both of us to relocate." I watch her face for signs of distress but find nothing, though I notice she has her backpack with her.
"I understand," Isla whispers, her gaze shifting around the room before settling again on the chess set.
"Cool. Come on, I'll take you to the room, and we can get you settled," I say to Isla.
"Actually, Erin, I was hoping for a rematch," Alexei tells me, moving to the chess set that still holds Isla's attention.
"It's getting late, and I'm getting tired. And no one likes a grumpy Erin," I sing-song, eliciting chuckles from both Alexei and Grigor.
"I was talking to Isla," Alexei clarifies, gesturing for her to sit. "It took me a while, but after every game we've played, I knew you would never sacrifice your Queen to win. So I deduced that someone else moved your pawn. Am I wrong?"
Isla, the little traitor, doesn't hesitate and takes the seat Alexei pulled out for her. "Well, you got me," I admit, raising my hands in mock surrender. "And on that note, I'll sit here and enjoy the limited wifi and surf the net. Mumma needs some new shoes."
"I'll continue to relocate your items, Cкучать Erin, Cкучать Isla," Grigor advises as he exits, closing the door behind him.
As Alexei takes his usual seat in front of the black set, I realize Damir is absent. "Hey, where's Damir?" I inquire, surprised by his absence.
"He's helping Bass release some tension," Alexei replies distractedly, focusing on Isla and her first move.
I understand the implication immediately. Elementals often use each other to relieve tension, regardless of their sexual orientation. Damir and Bass—now that's something I'd love to watch.
"
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