“Did Alexia tell you about her real father—my uncle? The one who hired a man to murder his mate and child?”
He nodded and looked at the end of his smoke. “I heard. Did you ever consider that maybe none of that went down because of love? A man doesn’t put a hit on his life mate and child because he loves them; he does it because he loves himself. His pride, his pack, whatever. No offense, Church, but that was a man who couldn’t live with the shame of a cheating mate. Didn’t sound like he knew much about forgiveness either. Yeah, we all fuck up in our lives. But when someone loves you enough to forgive you, it changes a man. Doesn’t mean you get a second chance with them necessarily, but you let go of all that hate and bitterness. If you really think love can ruin a man, then I don’t want you near Ivy.”
He dropped his smoke in a glass and stood up, giving Lorenzo a pointed look. “She deserves more than a wolf with a cold heart. Your iron fist won’t keep her warm at night.”
After Jericho left the table, Lorenzo rubbed his face with his hands. Taking love advice from the Weston pack was like being kicked in the testicles. Austin’s pack created unrealistic expectations of what a mate should offer. Lorenzo could provide her wealth, security, power, and position. Waking up at dawn to bring her donuts? He could never be that man.
Although he had left cream cheese on her tray. Maybe that was the best he could do.
Growing up, Lorenzo had been much smaller than the other children. They’d pushed him down and called him a runt. When he reached his teens, his growth spurt hit and those same children began to avoid him. Lorenzo had learned how to intimidate men with his words and body language. He quickly realized his reputation would be ruined if he lost a fight, so he’d acquired a pack of friends and chose his battles carefully. To his disappointment, Lorenzo’s younger brother didn’t join his pack. Most siblings stuck together and followed their alpha brother, but Luca didn’t like his cold and distant approach.
Reno was sitting with his back to the main entrance, holding a phone to his ear. He pointed at his eyes and then signaled Lorenzo to watch the front door while he took the call.
Lorenzo rose from his chair and studied the facial expressions of every man who entered. It was easy to weed out those of another Breed—the ones with unique eye colors or unblemished skin. Sometimes Chitahs wore color contacts to disguise their unique eyes from humans, but they couldn’t conceal their height.
Two men wandered in, each with thick treads on their boots that left broken pieces of dried mud on the dark carpet wherever they walked. Their eyes scoped out the room, but their posture remained closed. Lorenzo leaned against the bar, resting on his elbows, watching the two men settle in a dark area of the room behind Reno. Most men left their coats in the car so they wouldn’t have to lug them around, but not these guys. Their jackets were zipped up to their necks in a club that felt as humid as a tropical island.
Lorenzo only had a vague memory of what Fox looked like from the man’s visit to the house. He had been concentrating on the conversation so hard that his memory was a little fuzzy on the details. He ruled out the men in the shadows because a man like Fox craved attention. Men like that wanted to be noticed, even when it wasn’t in their best interest to be. He remembered Fox’s blue eyes and darkish hair, although what his wolf noticed the most was his defect. Shifters in animal or human form were perceptive when it came to noticing any detail that could be a weakness, and his wolf had paid attention to Fox’s mangled left ear. Images flashed in his mind of Ivy’s assault—ones planted from her description of the incident. A despicable man who would assault an innocent and threaten the life of a child—his own son!—deserved a slow death without mercy.
“Good to see you, Enzo. Can I get you a drink?” Gilly asked.
“Not tonight. Just enjoying the atmosphere,” Lorenzo replied coolly.
Reno set his phone on the table and looked to Lorenzo, who nodded toward the two men. A silent conversation of body language formed between them as Reno made a declaration that he was going to move in closer to listen.
“There are never enough ladies to choose from.”
Lorenzo turned his head and met the eyes of a Vampire. Short blond hair and eyes as black as oil. He had the aristocratic air that one often saw in families with old money.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Curious,” the Vampire said. “I could have sworn I saw you talking to a fetching young woman with a long braid. Not yours?”
“Polite conversation.”
“Hmm,” the Vampire said, mimicking the way Lorenzo was leaning on the bar. “The way you had her cornered against the wall didn’t look very polite to me.”