“Fran,” I said, starting toward her.
Shaking her head, she forced out a loud, fake laugh. “What? Stop looking at me like I’m some little orphan on the side of the road.” Mic whined again; she bent down, scooping him up. “He’s hungry, I’ve gotta feed him before he throws a fit.”
Faster than normal, she hurried from the room.
“Huh,” Kain said. “What was that all about?”
Twisting the corner of the envelope, I watched the doorway she’d vanished through. “I’m so dumb. I was talking about happy weddings, not even considering how she must feel with how hers ended. She didn’t even get to kiss the groom.”
Slumping forward, he put his elbows on the table. “With everything going on, I forgot, too. I feel like a shit brother right now.”
Tilting my chin high, I looked back at him. “Let’s fix it.”
“Fix it how? You’re not supposed to leave this room.”
Chewing my thumbnail, I started to smile. “Then let’s get me out of here.”
He chuckled. “I’d love to. Even if I did, I don’t know how we’d fix Fran’s mood. She wants a wedding, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
Lifting my eyebrows, I winked. “Then aren’t you lucky that you happen to know one hell of a wedding planner?”
We were lucky Costello wasn’t guarding my room. Where he seemed to respect his father’s requests, Hawthorne . . .
Hawthorne was a bit different.
Leaning on the wall outside my door, he just eyed me and Kain. “You want to leave?” He looked at the floor. “Fine, I don’t see you.”
“I—what?” I asked, stumbling on the words.
His eyes darted up to me, then to Kain. “The story is Costello let her leave, not me. And you’ll owe me for this.”
Grinning, Kain punched his brother lightly in the shoulder. “Fine with me.”
It was too easy. It felt like a trap.
With Hawthorne humming loudly, I followed Kain down the hall. I didn’t stop looking over my shoulder for a long while. He cupped my elbow, saying, “Relax. Thorne can be a dick, but he’ll keep his word. What do we do about this wedding you want to throw?”
Breathing easier, I scanned the windows. “I need music, flowers, and Midas. Can you handle some of that?”
“I’ll call him, he can get here easily. Flowers . . . I’ll talk to Matilda.”
I was relieved to know she was still working here after my horse-escape attempt. “Good call, she has the whole garden at her disposal.”
Nodding, he pointed to a staircase. “There’s a music room up there, third room on the right. You can find whatever you need.”
He started to leave. Before he could, I took his hand, standing tall to kiss his warm mouth. Sparks danced into my belly, all from one dumb, little kiss. “Man,” I whispered, watching him through half-shut eyes. “That never gets old.”
Breathing in so deep his chest rubbed mine, he cradled my cheek. “Sammy, about you getting locked into that room, I—”
“Shh. It’s fine.”
“It’s not. I’ll figure something out.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Kain thought he needed to break me free, but he was missing the real problem. Getting out of the room and off the property wasn’t hard; I’d just been let free without any fanfare, I was sure Hawthorne would let it happen again if we asked.
Escape was pointless if Kain was left to deal with the repercussions.
Ever since Maverick had made me watch Kain gasping for air . . . writhing in pain . . .
I’d realized that was what I needed to prevent.
I didn’t want to do anything that could put him at risk again. My new problem was choosing between protecting my mother and protecting him. There was no easy answer.
Maybe no answer at all.
The music room was exactly where Kain had said it would be. Wandering the huge room, I gazed up at the domed ceiling. There was a small stage, a giant bay window, and huge instruments all along the walls: a piano, a cello, and some things I couldn’t identify.
What I was after was the wall of CDs. Walking toward it, I ran my fingers down the spines until I found a suitable choice for tonight. Perfect! Grabbing one that contained instrumentals, I grinned in delight. The CD player sitting on the nearby desk was the last thing I needed to make sure we’d have music tonight.
“And where are you going with all of that?”
The voice cut through to my core. No one should have a sword for a tongue, especially not one that could also make your heart sizzle. It was barely a relief that the source wasn’t Maverick.
Hawthorne was sitting at the piano. I hadn’t noticed him—had he stalked inside while I was looking away, had he been following me and Kain since the start?
Hugging the CD player tightly, I searched for where my voice had buried itself. “You scared me,” I finally managed to say. Fuck, it had come out like a ragged squeak. “Why aren’t you standing guard outside my room?”
Narrowing his liquid-coal eyes, the man rose gracefully. He had on dark jeans and a braided belt and a long-sleeved red shirt rolled up to his elbows. His patterns of ink cut off in a perfect line at his wrist; for a second, I’d thought he’d had on a second shirt.
He moved as lightly as fingers playing over a flute, approaching until he stood before me with his arms linking at the small of his back. “I asked you a question.”
Flicking my stare down to the equipment in my grip, I said, “I need it for something important.”
“Oh, well, then you can tell me what that is.”
Hesitating, I considered my position. I didn’t know Hawthorne well, but he was Fran’s brother. It didn’t make sense to cut him out of my surprise . . . and at the same time, he made me realize how he could help.
Gesturing with the CD player, I smiled. “Okay. But don’t tell her. Tonight I want to surprise Francesca by finishing her wedding ceremony.”
His eyebrows crinkled deeply. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not fair that she didn’t get to finish out her wedding. I want to fix that.”
He stared at the items I was hugging. It was a long moment, so I was disarmed when he stabbed that fierce set of eyes back at me. I couldn’t break away from them—did all these damn brothers have such haunting stares? “Are you sure she’ll like being surprised?”
“I’ve got a hunch.” My smile struggled to grow. “Now, I need to ask you a favor.”
He straight-up laughed. “Me?”
I leaned toward him. “Tell your mom and dad to come to the gazebo around eight. They should be there when this goes down.”
“What, don’t want to waltz up and ask them yourself?”
“You know I’m not supposed to leave that room. I’m trying to mend things, not make them worse.”
He considered me with his head angling to one side. “Fair enough.”
“So . . . you’ll ask them?”