“I didn’t know about this,” Damien speaks up, looking at Finn with a glare, his blue eyes sparking to life, and I can’t help but be pulled into that hard stare.
“I spoke to Holly and Mali,” Finn says with a playful grin. “They’re bringing the rest of the team, and The Black Knights want to head up here as well.”
“Fuck that, I’m not having those assholes in this house again.” Damien’s voice lowers into a growl, and I can’t stop the shiver that races down my spine as the warning drenches his words.
“Come on, D,” Cassian says. “It’s harmless fun. We’ll keep them down here, we can lock the door from the kitchen leading to the rest of the house and just have them in the garden. The kitchen will still be accessible, we can keep the living room patio doors locked as well.” He seems to have thought this through. “The pool house has a bathroom if they need it. I mean, think about it, we can keep them contained.”
I don’t know who The Black Knights are, but from the name alone, I can’t help but want to agree with Damien. I’m not a fan of crowds, and this sounds like it’s going to be big.
Blue eyes flash, flitting between the two younger brothers, and I silently pray that he says no but, after some consideration, Damien finally nods and says, “Fine. Outside.”
My heart leaps into my throat, as Finn whoops at the thought of having a bash in his father’s house. I doubt their dad would be impressed if he knew about this, but I have no say. It’s not my house.
“Looks like we’re having a party, little sister,” Finn tells me, with a satisfied grin on his face, and I don’t know why my eyes sweep to Damien. He’s watching me intently, and I wonder if he can see the trepidation I’m feeling.
I fake a smile, just like I’ve been taught to do all my life, and try to finish my dinner. Even though it’s delicious, the anxiety churning in my stomach makes it difficult to eat.
“Have you decided on a major?” Cassian asks from beside me.
Shaking my head, I tell him, “Not yet. I’m thinking of perhaps doing a History major. Something different to anything my mother wants me to do,” I tack on with a small smile. I can feel cerulean eyes piercing me, but I don’t look at him.
“History. If you like that kinda stuff, Damien can show you around the manor.” Finn grins as if there’s an inside joke that only he can hear. “This place is fucking old, I’m sure it’s haunted too.” With a chuckle, he shakes his head, and I try not to look at Damien, who I know is watching me.
“I’d love to learn more about Thorne Haven and the manor. I’ve always been interested in learning about how towns came about.”
“Are you musical at all?” Cassian poses, before taking a bite of his meal.
“Not really. More like tone-deaf.” I smile at him. “My mother wasn’t impressed that I didn’t want to get into show business as well. All my life, she begged and pleaded for me to go to castings. Even though I’ve been to a few, I never got the part. I guess acting isn’t my forte.”
“Being fake, not your kind of thing?” This comes from Damien, drawing my attention to him. The corner of his mouth quirks and I see the dimple forming in his cheek. His dark brow lifts into a perfect arch, and those baby blues flash with a challenge.
“No, it’s not. I guess being an asshole is your kind of thing?” At my challenge, both Finn and Cassian gasp, then laugh out loud, as they slap their hands in a high five across the table. But all the commotion doesn’t break the eye contact between Damien and me.
There’s a glint of surprise in his eyes. The shimmer of mischief, and then he smiles, and I’m not ready for it. Not my heart, not my body and, certainly, not my mind.
“Being an asshole takes a special kind of talent,” he says, leaning back against his chair. It’s almost as if he takes great satisfaction in being such a dick. He slides his chair back, rises to full height, and I can’t help my hungry eyes from drinking in every inch of him. He slowly rounds the table, making his way toward me.
When he reaches my chair, Damien leans in and presses his lips to my ear, which has heat shooting through every nerve in my body. My skin tingles with awareness of his proximity, and I bite back the whimper that threatens to escape.
“Don’t ever underestimate me, wild rose,” he murmurs in my ear. “I may be proud of it, but only those close to me are ever allowed to call me an asshole to my face.”