"Five minutes, Massimo."
I buzz them up.
Kon walks in first. He fills the doorway with his six-four frame. His dark eyes sweep the penthouse in two seconds flat, cataloging my leather folio I left on the kitchen counter, Sloane’s bag on the coffee table, and her overnight bag by the sofa. He takes in everything and says nothing.
Onyx steps past him, blue eyes sharp, her gaze landing on every detail Kon just filed away. The difference is Onyx has questions and zero intention of keeping them to herself.
"Massimo." She says my name with a sharpness of a bullwhip. Her writer's brain doesn’t miss a detail either. "Where is she?"
"Changing."
"Changing into what? She's been here two hours. What was she wearing before?"
"Onyx." Kon's voice is low, quiet, the single word carrying enough weight to pause her momentum. She glances at him. He shakes his head once. She narrows her eyes but lets it go. For now.
I pour us all drinks and forget about the ice water. Maybe that works for other people, but life is way too stressful at the moment.
The whiskey glugs into Kon's glass, amber catching the low light. He takes it with a nod and settles into the wingback by the window, his broad frame making the leather creak as he leans back. I pour wine for Onyx, who takes it without sitting because standing gives her a tactical advantage in conversations and she knows it.
Sloane emerges from the bedroom in jeans and a cream sweater with her hair brushed and a coat of cherry lipstick that I know she applied in under sixty seconds because I could hear her rummaging through her bag while I answered the door.
"Hey." She reaches for Onyx and they fold into each other, arms tight, foreheads close, a conversation happening in the embrace that doesn't include words. When they pull apart, Onyx holds Sloane at arm's length and studies her face with an intensity that would make most people uncomfortable.
Sloane doesn't flinch. "Before you ask, yes this is real. Yes it happened fast. No I am not being held against my will, although the man's cabinets are a humanitarian crisis."
"She's been here two hours and she's already redecorating," I add.
"Good. This place needs it." Onyx squeezes Sloane's hands and turns to me with a look that says this conversation is not over, we are simply pausing it because I love her and I want her to be happy and if you hurt her I will end you.
I receive the message.
Kon catches my eye over the rim of his glass. He doesn't speak which is normal for the Russian. The slight nod he gives me carries twenty years of brotherhood and something that looks a lot like recognition. He's been where I am. He bought Onyx at an auction to save her and fell in love with her while trying to keep her alive. He knows what it looks like when a man drafts a contract with his head and signs it with his heart.
The four of us settle into a rhythm that feels easier than it should. Sloane and Onyx on the sofa with wine, heads together, speaking in the rapid shorthand of best friends while the city glows through the windows behind them. Kon and I by the window with whiskey, saying little because neither of us has ever needed many words to communicate.
"Lorenzo Ferraro." Kon says the name without inflection. Testing. Luca must have filled him in on everything. Good. I don’t feel like rehashing.
"Handled."
"Harrison?"
"Complicated."
He nods. Takes a slow pull of whiskey. "Onyx will want the full story. She won't stop until she has it."
"I know."
"Sloane will tell her when she's ready."
"I know that too."
Kon rotates his glass between his fingers, the amber liquid catching the low light. "You're sure about this, brother?"
"Da." I use his word deliberately and the corner of his mouth pulls.
"Then we have your back. Whatever comes."
They leave after an hour. Onyx hugs Sloane one more time, whispers something in her ear that makes Sloane laugh and press her forehead against Onyx's shoulder, and I watch from the kitchen and feel something in my chest I haven't felt in years. Warmth. My penthouse has people in it who care about each other and the silence after they leave is different from the silence I'm used to.