“Breakfast?” she squeaked. “You’re making me eat in the same room where your awful family—”

“No need to repeat the facts, Ms. Weaver. I’m fully aware of what happened to you in there. Unfortunately for you, I don’t care. I’m hungry. You’re hungry. We have a big day ahead of us, and it’s time for fucking breakfast.”

Her head tilted as the curse fell from my mouth.

Goddammit to fucking hell.

Why did I have to end up with a Weaver who seemed to tap into a never-ending well of strength and intelligence? Her question before hadn’t stopped ringing in my ears: “What did you do?”

How had she seen my transformation so clearly, so shrewdly? Even my own family didn’t notice things like that—only if I went too far did they ever intervene. I had to keep her at arm’s length if I had any hope of hiding my true self.

I leaned down to her level, my eyes disobeying my command not to stray to her lips. So pink and full, just the memory of having them wrapped around my cock made me ripple with need.

You want to kiss her.

I crucified that thought immediately. A kiss was connection—a kiss could never happen, because I wanted no connection with this woman. I couldn’t.

“I agree it’s morning and we should eat, but please, Jethro, take me somewhere else. Hell, give me a picnic in the kennels. Just don’t take me into that room.”

The plea in her voice disgusted me. I preferred her when she remained defiant, rather than begging. “No arguing. Gemstone is always held in this room. We won’t break tradition for anyone, especially you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Gemstone?”

“Our biweekly meeting with the Diamond brothers. While you were relaxing the past few days, some of us were working. The meeting is a recap of dealings and revenue, and you’re a Hawk now. You get to be privy to our inner empire. Lucky, wouldn’t you say?”

She tried to jerk her wrist from my hold. It didn’t work. “And if I don’t want to be a part of it?”

I smirked. “Do you really think you have a choice?”

We glowered at each other.

Placing my palm on the doors, I pushed them open and pulled her into the room where her induction had taken place.

I looked over at Nila.

She sat wedged between Kestrel and Flaw. For the first twenty minutes of the meeting, she’d been jumpy, angry, and downright livid to be back in the room with the same men who’d seen and tasted every morsel of her.

Now, an hour into the meeting, she’d stopped hissing whenever a brother asked her a polite question, and had even eaten half of her salmon and poached eggs with hollandaise sauce. She’d refused coffee, which reminded me of how she didn’t drink the one I bought her in Milan, and her body language was so fucking uptight, I expected her to pass out from muscle exhaustion any second.

For the past sixty minutes, we’d discussed the successful transaction last night, the rare delivery of a diamond over twenty-six carats next week, and the on-going politics in Sierra Leone. Boring stuff for an outsider.

She isn’t an outsider. She’s ours now.

More often than I wished, I caught myself watching her, my eyes seeming to land on her, regardless of who was speaking. She was the only splash of colour in the line-up of men on her side of the table—a peach fiesta smack in the middle of leather-jacketed bikers.

“Now that we’ve got the basics out of the way, Jethro, do you have anything to report?” Cut looked down the table, surveying his good disciples.

I stiffened in my chair as all eyes turned on me, including Nila’s. Last night had been fucking boring. I had nothing to add. Now that I’d eaten, I just wanted to leave, get the debt over with, and go for a ride. I needed to get out of this place and away from these people.

“No, nothing to add. You’ve covered it.”

Daniel snickered, his dark hair spiked with too much gel. “Yeah, Pop, you’ve gone over the boring shit. Let’s get to the good part.”

Nila froze; her dark eyes glared, shooting hatred across the table toward my younger brother.

Couldn’t say I blamed her; the feeling was mutual.

Daniel sneered at Nila, licking his lips and blowing her a kiss. “I want to see how our guest reacts.”

My fists clenched on the table.

Kestrel shifted beside her, nudging her shoulder with his. Loud enough for his voice to carry, he said, “It’s okay, Nila. You’re on the sane side of the table. I won’t let him touch you.”

Nila tensed as her head swivelled to look at him. Her eyes searched his, her chin cocked in a strange mixture of defiance and curiosity.

The second turned into a drawn-out moment, and still they stared.

What the fuck?

Finally, Nila nodded, her black ponytail draping over her shoulder. Never tearing her gaze from Kes, she said softly, “Thank you.”

Kes beamed, his golden eyes, the trait all Hawk men carried, glowed. “You’re welcome.” Something passed between them. Something I fucking hated.

Running a hand through his dark, silver-flecked hair, Kes tore his eyes from Nila’s to look directly into mine. “You only have to come to me if you ever feel overwhelmed.”

That lowlife bastard.

My hands balled in my lap. “Enough.”

Kes reclined in his chair, dropping his forearm—the one tattooed with a bird of prey—beneath the table.

Nila jumped a mile.

He’d touched her! That goddamn arsehole touched what was mine.

The instant Nila jolted, Kes pulled away, a smug smile on his lips. “Sorry.”

“Don’t touch me,” Nila hissed.

Something warm sprang from nowhere in my chest. Warm? How was that possible when my heart was full of snow?

My lips twitched, smugness of my own unable to be hidden. Nila might be intrigued or even drawn to Kes, but it was my cock that’d been in her mouth, my tongue that’d been in that pretty cunt of hers.

Kestrel’s suave smile dropped. He always did think too highly of himself. Just because the club whores preferred him, it didn’t mean he was better than the rest of us. He was my favourite person; however, I would not tolerate him poaching my prey.

Kes hung his head, turning on the charm and magic puppy-dog eyes that twisted the knickers off many women. “I only meant to offer comfort. I’m sorry if I offended you.”