"So, who drugged me at Cyanide?" she asked, ready to demand some answers.
"One of the bartenders," he replied, pulling out frozen chicken and vegetables from the freezer, and setting them on the counter. Morana felt the surprise hit her yet again, seeing the ease with which he moved around the kitchen, as much ease as he would in a field of bullets. She saw him pick up a chopping board and knife.
He cooked.
Tristan 'The Predator' Caine cooked. Would wonders never cease?
Ignoring the odd sensation in her chest, she focused on the questions.
"Why did he drug me?"
The knife stopped above a slice of chicken, hovering in the air as he looked up at her. His jaw clenched, that familiar hatred she'd seen in his eyes so many times flashing before he reined it in. He'd been keeping it under control today for some reason.
Baffled, Morana played with her phone, waiting for an answer.
The elevator doors slid open just as he unclenched his jaw to speak.
People had the worst timing!
Dante came walking into the area, his tall, muscular body encased in a dark suit, his hair slicked back. His dark eyes came to her, before flickering to Tristan Caine, some kind of silent look passing between them, and back to her again.
"Morana," he spoke, coming to stand beside her as she tensed. "I apologize for being unable to meet you. Something very urgent came up at the last second."
Morana studied him, her eyes narrowed. He seemed sincere enough. She nodded. "That's okay."
"I heard you were attacked. Are you alright?"
Morana raised her eyebrows even as his concern seemed genuine. And then she remembered what Amara had told her about the two men being protective of women.
She nodded again. "I'm fine. But I need my car tomorrow."
Dante smiled. "Tristan arranged for the repairs already."
Her eyebrows hit her hairline as she turned to the other man. "You did?"
He ignored her, his eyes on Dante. "Should I get ready?"
"Yes."
Another silent look.
Tristan Caine nodded and walked around the counter, heading towards the stairs.
Dante turned to her, his dark eyes genuinely concerned. "My apartment is two floors down. I know you said you didn't want to work with him, so if you'd like you can stay there for tonight. I won't be home and it will be empty."
She saw Tristan Caine stop on the stairs before she could speak, his entire body tensing as he turned to face Dante, his eyes cool.
"She stays here," he growled.
Growled.
Morana blinked in surprise as the edge in the tone. It sent a shiver through her. She'd have thought he'd be glad to have her out of his hair.
Dante spoke up from beside her, addressing the man, a hand in his pocket. "It's a better option. You will return later and I won't. She can stay comfortably till morning."
Tristan Caine didn't blink away from his blood brother, and another look passed between them.
"Tristan..." Dante spoke, his voice slightly worried. "You don't..."