Page 27 of Lawless Sinners

I look at her, and the warning in her eyes reins me in before Art has time to lose his patience with me.

Even though I'm used to sitting around a table with Tallon men who say what they think, I’ve also grown accustomed to Mara’s high society formalities.

“Sorry.” I shrug. “I just can’t hide from the elephant in the room.”

“Why hide, Sera?” Fionn sits deeper into his seat. “Be a good girl and eat your dinner.”

“You’ll be wearing my dinner if you continue to patronize me.”

“Ah, so praise isn’t your thing.” He actually fucking smirks. “I’m guessing you prefer direct instructions like run.”

My smile stays in place, and I lower my voice while reaching for the gravy boat. “I don’t need to run while the predator is busy playing fiancé.”

His glass pauses halfway to his lips, then he sits forward and rests his elbows on the table.

“You’re only sitting at this table with me because of Eilish. How about you go home and give her space while I get to know her better.”

I glance at Eilish.

Her spine is poker straight, her hands folded, her expression composed while she watches me argue.

“She doesn’t want to get to know ya,” I whisper, lifting my fork. “You’re just a bland man in a nice suit.”

He swills the whiskey in his glass and takes a drink, keeping eye contact. “Are you her chaperone?”

“I’m her friend.”

“Right.” He takes a drink. “And how far does the job go? Are you planning to sit between us at dinner and take the middle of the bed? I agreed to a wife, Sera, not a scrappy little guard dog from across the heath.”

Bastard.

“Woof,” I whisper, throwing the word back at him because he taunted me with it at Clonmore.

For one private second the smirk falters before he slots it back exactly where it belongs.

“Believe me, Harrington,” I say, dipping forward and keeping my voice a whisper. “There will never come a time when I lay my head on the same pillow as you.”

His eyes stay on mine. “No?”

“Not in this life, or the next.”

His cheek dimples. “Funny. The ground didn’t seem to offend you half as much.”

“Stop taunting her.” Eilish fists her knife and side-eyes him, oblivious to the meaning behind his statement.

Art clears his throat at the end of the table, oblivious to our conversation and raises his glass in the air. “To marriage and the union of our two families.”

I swallow the urge to scoff and drain my glass instead.

Across from me, Fionn stares at my wrists, and my skin flames beneath the gold when his thumb drags once across his lower lip.

I sit there in my black dress, forcing a smile over the top of the flowers while I process my best friend sitting beside him.

Fionn raises his glass and makes a toast and my lungs cramp.

“To family,” he says.

Everyone drinks, and I keep my glass on the table even though a server refills it.