They’re perfect together.
Annoyinglyperfect.
I take a sip of my drink and scan the reception room, watching the guests out of habit.
Santoro cousins are clustered near the bar and Leo’s men scattered throughout, even off-duty they’re still keeping watch.
Emma’s sparse group of family looks uncomfortable and out of place.
The Brennan contingent is small—just Emma’s mother and a few cousins brave enough to defy Connor’s orders.
The big man himself refused to show, which Emma is trying very hard to pretend doesn’t hurt.
I’m about to head to the bar for a refill when the door opens and someone new walks in.
Someone whodefinitelywasn’t on the guest list.
The change in the room is immediate.
Conversations falter.
People turn to look.
And most tellingly, Leo’s head snaps up from where he’s been murmuring something to Emma, his entire body going tense.
Emma turns to see what caught Leo’s attention and her face lights up. “Cillian!”
She starts toward the door, waddling slightly with her pregnant belly, and Leo warily follows close behind, one hand on her back.
I watch the man—Cillian Brennan, I realize, Emma’s cousin who she’s mentioned before as one of the few family members she actually likes—cross the room to meet them.
He’s tall. Easily over six feet, with broad shoulders that fill out his dark suit.
His hair catches the light as he moves and it’s similar in color to Emma’s—reddish-gold, like burnished copper, styled back from his face in a way that shows off sharp cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass.
But it’s his eyes that make me take notice.
Ice blue eyes as cold as a winter sky and they’re currently scanning the room with the practiced assessment of someone who’s been trained to catalog threats and exits before he even thinks about relaxing.
Emma reaches him and he bends to kiss her cheek, murmuring something that makes her smile.
But his eyes are on Leo, and there’s tension in the line of his shoulders that suggests this isn’t just a friendly family visit.
Leo says something—too quiet for me to hear from here—and Cillian’s response is equally low.
But I can see Emma’s face fall slightly, and Leo looks pissed.
Whatever Cillian’s here for, it’s not to celebrate.
After a moment, Cillian’s ice-blue gaze sweeps the room again and lands directly on me.
And holds.
I don’t look away. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
Instead, I meet his stare with one of my own, lifting my champagne glass slightly in a mocking salute.
His eyes narrow slightly and he starts walking toward me with purpose.