Page 50 of Shark’s Edge

“It was a mansion,” she charged. “Wasn’t it? You need to spill, Abbigail. Better yet, did you get any pictures?”

“Pictures?” My mouth fell open to react, but all I came up with was: “You think I had time for pictures?”

“And you waited a full hour into the workday to start telling me about this?”

I chuckled softly. “To be honest, I wasn’t planning on telling you at all.”

“Excuse me?” Her dark brows hiked farther into her hairline than I thought possible. “And that reasoning is why?”

I made her wait as I slid the avocado slices under the broiler. “Oh, where to start, sis? The judgment? The fact that Sebastian Shark isn’t exactly your favorite C-Suite hottie.”

She canted her head. “He’s starting to grow on me a little. A little,” she qualified, jabbing a carrot my direction. She started shucking the vegetable’s skin, and I breathed in relief that she was only wielding a peeler. With what I had to relay next, I worried about the woman being anywhere near a knife.

“Well.” One more deep breath before I went for it. “At the moment, I can say he’s not my favorite, either.” I clamped my mouth shut before sharing more.

Clearly, that wasn’t what Rio expected me to say. Still, she was calm about rebutting, “Guess it’s a damn good thing we still have Blake’s order to fill, then.” In her old Finding Nemo tee and cuffed jeans, the woman planted her hands on her hips and tapped a flour-covered Doc Marten on the floor. “Time for explanations, sister.”

“Nothing much to explain.” I gave a small shrug.

Rio’s emotion-filled tsk spliced the air. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“Because judges are supposed to be impartial?”

“And that’s really what you want from me?”

“What I want is to not be judged at all. And maybe a longer pair of these.” I held up the steel tongs I was using to flip the avocado slices and narrowed my gaze with pretend sinister intent.

“Juicy.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’m in. Where do we start? At the top of the mushroom or the fun bouncy balls?”

As usual, I couldn’t decide whether to hug the woman or break down and soak her in my confused sobs. The good and bad thing was I knew she’d be okay with either choice.

“Abs.” She grabbed my free hand with tender meaning. “It’s me, honey.”

“I . . . I know.”

“Tell me what happened.”

But now that we were at this place in things, I pulled back my hand, adding an apologetic glance. I already knew it wasn’t necessary; Rio was well-accustomed to the Gibson shutdown, courtesy of her experiences with my difficult brother.

Difficult.

Wasn’t that the fitting word of the week, courtesy of the maddening Y-chromosome beast in my life? But how did I summarize it all for Rio without violating Sebastian’s NDA provisions?

And there was the new rub too, as stupid and pointless as the agreement itself. Because seriously, I was just fine about keeping his street address secret, as well as agreeing not to set a drone free in his house, and even maintaining radio silence about the expensive wine he’d poured with our meal. None of that meant as much as the connection we’d shared. Well, that I thought we’d shared—until it all went up in smoke after thirty seconds of a basic business phone call. And while Viktor Blake had no way of knowing how he’d daggered up our night, it was hard not to let my irritation ooze onto him too.

But Rio didn’t deserve my bitter backlash about all that. I took a deep breath and went straight for the point. “What did he do, sister?” I drawled. “Well, let’s ask the more relevant question here. What didn’t he do?” As I spoke, Rio’s concentration didn’t waver—which justified the speed of the comprehension that ignited her features like a sunburst through storm clouds.

“Holy. Shit.” She punched both words with astonished gasps. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

I bunched my eyebrows, completely confused. “Umm . . . what am I telling you?”

“That Sebastian Shark, man about town, couldn’t perform when the curtain finally rose? Was the curtain the only thing that rose?” She grinned at her own joke.

“No.” I brought my hand down over hers. “Oh, holy hell. No,” I groaned.

“What? Are you not allowed to tell me or something? Did he make you sign an NDA, like we had to do before delivering to his offices?” At once, her features bugged wide. “Oh, he did. That’s why everyone still thinks he’s a fast player. They all think he’s got an erection for the ages, and—”

“It is an erection for the ages!”