He completely ignores my jab, since we’re still not talking about all the lies he’s told and secrets he’s kept.
“Some bones are broken, but the foundation is solid. It’s going to take me some time to get a crew out here, though. At least six months or so. May want to hire outside. My guys are staying on the planned job, and my foreman is going to run it,” he informs me.
Now he’s just being cold. He’s also being passive aggressive because I forgot to call and tell him about Mom, and he found out elsewhere.
Family drama is getting a pin shoved in it pretty hard.
“You’re going to do the job because you won’t trust anyone else to do it, and Ighan is your project foreman. He’ll introduce you to your project crew,” I tell him as I turn and walk out.
The hairs rise on my neck, as the air almost seems to crackle around me. A loud clanging echoes through the halls, and I whirl around, finding the doors have been blown open.
Feeling eyes on me, my gaze is dragged far across the street, into the park, as if I know exactly where to look.
I connect with a set of piercing blue eyes that are striking, even from this distance, as a familiar face stands out. That crackle of electricity pops in the air, and my breath hitches in my throat.
She stares at me, and I stare back.
For several long seconds, we stay locked in an unwavering stare-down.
Avery sucks in a sharp breath, as though he sees what I see, and from the corner of my eye, I spot him reach for one of the many weapons on his person.
“Don’t,” I caution, staring ahead at the brunette, who is far more alluring than I could ever be.
“That’s—”
“I know,” I tell him, exhaling a heavy breath, as a slight whimper sounds from inside the walls, followed by a hushed silence that makes the prickle of awareness that much more intense.
Wearing what looks to be some ritzy, equestrian riding attire, the woman everyone has been dreading the return of stands from her park bench.
It takes me a second to notice I’ve subconsciously moved outside, standing on the steps. Avery’s hand clamps down on my upper arm when I try to walk toward her.
“This is neutral territory. The only way she can lay a hand on you is if you break the law,” Avery says to me very, very quietly. “Go over there, and she’ll guide you off into non-neutral territory so she can hurt you very severely, Ms. Carmine.”
“She’s not my problem,” I tell him, a little unnerved at how perfectly those paintings have portrayed her beauty.
I was sort of hoping they made her look more flawless than she is in real life. If anything, she’s possibly more stunning than I realized. Even the death windows haven’t done her beauty justice.
He draws his sword as he releases me, and steps in front of me as he says, “Step inside.”
If she’s stronger than Vance, she’s going to murder Avery.
“You step inside. I can’t die, Sir Avery,” I counter.
He gives me a look that suggests I may have sprouted an extra appendage right out of my forehead.
All his knights quickly move in front of us, taking a defensive stance. It’s drawing all kinds of attention from townsfolk who wonder why ninja soldiers are preparing for battle in front of a dilapidating hotel.
I’ve just realized I have to make sense of this place for humans…
Yeah, I’m putting a pin in that, since that’s going to take some thinking.
Idun stares for a moment longer, and I finally start ushering the knights back inside.
“In. In. In. We have more important things to do, and she’s not our problem,” I tell them.
The hair on my neck stays raised, even as I pointedly ignore her and head back inside.
“She’s not going to attack,” I tell the empty hotel full of people, who’ve taken refuge inside the walls. “Mostly because it’s too predictable, and from what I’ve heard on numerous occasions, she’s not predictable.”
Leiza peeks out from behind the old counter, fully trembling, as her almost wolf-pupiled eyes meet mine, as if simply sensing Idun’s power is that terrifying.
Shera drops to my side from above, now fully dressed in her own form-fitting tactical gear that looks a little Selene-from-Underworld-ish.
She’s clutching two things that look like bombs.
“Really?” I ask, restraining a smile as I glance over the tight-fitted leather, and she cuts her gaze to me.
“Not the time for jokes, Violet. She’s—”
“—irrelevant to me,” I interrupt, finishing the sentence for her. “She’s not my problem. She won’t be a problem for anyone here,” I remind her, as I head to the back of the hotel, finding Dad to be the only one undisturbed, as he takes some measurements. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Tires squeal and a horn honks somewhere outside.
“You can be anything but na?ve, Violet. Closing your eyes doesn’t make the problem go away,” Shera calls to my back, but I flip her off as I keep walking. “She’s our worst problem,” she tacks on like she’s trying to make me understand.
Without turning around, I start helping Dad by writing down the measurements as he calls them out, only saying, “I’m sure the guys are already on their way by now. She’s clearly very much their problem.”