Chantelle blinks at me with a bland look on her face.
“Well, alright,” she says. “Nice meeting you too. Do you want your cat?”
I shake my head. “My sister gave him to me because she didn’t want me to be lonely when she went off to college. You can keep him. The fucker looks happier with you than he ever did with me, anyway.”
She gives me a tight smile. I obviously rubbed her the wrong way with my question.
“Yes, I’m fuckingThe Omen,“ she mocks his moniker with a face, and I smirk. “And you’re fucking his daughter. Are you lost?”
Fiery might be on The Omen’s checklist of his perfect woman too. Hope the old man can keep up.
I shrug.
“It’s a big house.”
“It’s a monstrosity,” she groans, which gives me the feeling Chantelle isn’t used to this type of lifestyle either.
“I just need to be pointed in the direction of your…daddy… and I’ll be on my way.”
I can’t help the chuckle that rumbles in my chest when she narrows her eyes on me.
“I should lead you off a cliff for that comment.”
She smiles at me, and I’m relieved there’s someone here I don’t hate on principle and who wouldn’t shoot me down without a second thought.
Chantelle gives me a quick rundown of where I should go with different paintings and objects she uses to guide her. With her directions I don’t get lost again trying to sort through my own memory of this maze of fuckery.
I come to a stop at The Omen’s office and raise my fist to knock just as the door opens. Lion stands opposite me and, when he sees me, his lips thin in disgust. I snort and push past him, shouldering him as I pass, like he did to me earlier. The Omen curses under his breath when he sees the interaction and I feel Lion looming behind me.
I’m stretching my luck thin by pushing back against Lion’s distaste for me. Especially with everyone on edge trying to find Malia. If it weren’t for his uncle’s presence, he’d shoot me again. Maybe fatally this time, but Lion also wouldn’t accept a weak man for his sister’s partner, just as I wouldn’t for mine.
I smirk at Lion while plopping down in the large, leathered chair in front of The Omen’s desk, sinking down and spreading my legs wide like I don’t have a care in the world… even if my mind is a frantic mess, howling to get Malia back. It’s a delicate balance—playing with her father’s protection and proving myself against her ill-tempered brother.
The Omen plants himself between us as Lion’s jaw tenses further, his body nearly shaking with the desire to kill me right now. He’s got a lot of respect for his uncle; I’ll give him that much.
“It would do you both well to remember there are innocents in my house and I will not tolerate the two of you killing each other,” The Omen warns, shifting his gaze between the both of us.
I don’t miss the shift in verbiage as The Omen turns on the no-bullshit, down-to-business tone.
“Relax, Porcupine,” I taunt Lion with a smile; a little payback for his taunts in the basement.
Okay, maybe I’m just in a mood.
Lion’s eyes narrow and he takes two steps forward, quickly glancing at his uncle then halting with an irritated grunt.
“The fuck did you call me?” he asks, voice sharp with both a warning and a wish I would.
I tilt my head the way both Malia and Lion tend to do. “Malia once called you a porcupine. Bad-tempered and prickly, if I remember correctly. I see what she means.”
Lion’s mouth turns from a sneer to a threatening smile, tilting slightly at the corner of his lips and showing a few teeth. He shrugs.
“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. Malia and I are two sides of the same coin. It’ll be wise for you to remember that, especially if you plan to piss her off, too.”
“She won’t hurt me,” I assure him, smiling at the memory of the terrace, where she could’ve stabbed me but didn’t, “and neither will you.”
“As much as I admire your confidence, cop,” Lion drawls. “It makes you stupid. I’ve already shot you once.”
Perhaps it does make me stupid, but I’m not ignorant about how predators work, and I refuse to be prey. I dip my chin in acknowledgment and turn my attention to The Omen. He leans against his desk, and I see Lion spread his legs to widen his stance, crossing his arms tightly against his chest while he burns me with his glare.