“Jesus,” Cillian says again. This time, he sounds amused.
“What?” I demand defensively.
“You’re going soft, little brother.”
I growl, but all that does is make Cillian laugh.
“She’s a fucking Lombardi. And clearly, a more dangerous one than her idiot brother,” he points out. “You realize that the Lombardis still have allies in the city. They may be keeping a low profile, but that’s only because they know they can’t win if they hit us now.”
“I’m aware,” I drawl.
“Give them a reason to coalesce and they will,” he continues.
It’s moments like this that make me glad Cillian sent me to New York two decades ago. I don’t need my big brother breathing down my neck with every mistake I make.
Even if I deserve it.
“I’m going to kill her,” I snarl with new determination.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“No.”
He ignores me and asks it anyway. “What does she look like now?”
Of course the fucker had to ask a question like that. He knows. The motherfucker knows.
“Does it matter?” I ask coldly. “She’s a walking corpse.”
Cillian chuckles. “So she is attractive.”
“She’s definitely better looking than her brother,” I say evasively. “Drago fell off the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.”
“Kian.”
“What?”
“Answer the damn question.”
“She’s a fucking stunner,” I concede, knowing he won’t stop until I give him a straight answer. “A knockout if ever there was one. But I’m not going to let that distract me.”
I can practically see him smiling. “Good. Don’t let her bewitch you, Kian,” Cillian says, a kernel of concern burrowing its way into his tone. “Clans have been brought to their knees by far less.”
“Sage advice,” I reply. “Didn’t you once risk it all for the woman you’re now married to?”
“I… Well… That’s different.”
“Because it’s you?”
“No,” he says adamantly. “Because that was true fucking love.”
I smile, thrilled that I’ve managed to get the words “true love” from my brother’s lips. The fact that he’s not happy about it only makes me smile harder.
“Is this girl the future mother of your children?” Cillian demands, if only to paper over the embarrassment.
“Of course not.”
“Then why are we arguing?”