Abby hugged her back. “You better go. I don’t want to incur her wrath.”
Sebastien lingered until she’d finished and nodded at Abby without saying anything. A muscle in his jaw pulsed, his eyes unreadable.
He kept his gaze focused straight ahead for the longest time, but as they drew nearer to Sojo’s trailer, he finally slid her a look. Then he caught her hand and stopped altogether.
When he reached up and touched her cheek, Marin could have sworn her heart stuttered in her chest. “You were crying,” he said simply.
Then he started to walk again, shoulders a straight solid line.
Staring at his back, she thought those words through, confused.
“You were crying.”
He’d called last night.
Yeah. She’d been crying—over him.
But . . .
Sojo was standing by the door of her trailer impatiently. Dash went to duck inside and he half turned, caught her eyes. Giving her a cocky salute, he disappeared, followed quickly by Sebastien. Sojo grimaced and then went inside, leaving the door open.
It was pretty damn clear that she expected Marin to get her ass inside.
And Marin would.
She had no choice.
Sebastien’s words made complete sense to her now.
He thought Dash had done something to make her cry.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Evie, but she ignored her. Abby was talking to Tony, probably getting the rundown—oh, man. This was all going to suck. Jamming her hands into the pockets of the robe she’d been given to wear over her wardrobe for the day, Marin strode ahead, jaw tight, her head spinning. How in the hell was she supposed to fix this?
They were all inside, Sojo seated on a chair that made Marin think of a throne. Sebastien was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, his stance casual, but she wasn’t fooled. He was on edge and pissed, the scar on his face paler than normal, seeming stark against the harshness of his features.
He was still so beautiful, but it was a hard beauty now.
She wanted to go to him and kiss him, brush his hair back from his face and press her mouth to his, then trace that scar, move down—
“Sit down, Marin,” Sojo said softly.
Marin frowned at the woman who was, for now, essentially her boss, but she did sit, curling up on the couch with all the casualness she didn’t feel. Dash was in an armchair, looking for all the world like he was ready to watch a football game. The avid light in his eyes made her think he found all of this highly entertaining.
“Tell me something, Marin. You’ve got some . . .” Sojo ran her tongue across her teeth. “Information that we’ve been protecting. Do I need to be careful of what I say here?”
“They both know,” she said, irritated already.
“Excellent.” The way Sojo’s golden eyes gleamed made Marin feel like she’d just been cornered by a lioness.
As the woman leaned forward, Marin wondered if maybe this was what a mouse felt like when it was being stalked by the house cat. The idea pissed her off and she squared her shoulders, realizing she’d been slinking back into the cushions of the couch.
“Any idea what these two school boys were fighting about, Marin?” Sojo asked.
“Well . . .” Marin drew the word out slowly. “I can’t speak as to what was going on in Dash’s mind, although from what I could tell, he was just taunting Sebastien. Sebastien was the one who started it.”
“Indeed.” Sojo’s smile widened. “And just what do you think was going on in his mind?”
“He hasn’t had a good brawl with his brothers in a while,” Marin said sourly. “He probably needs one of them to come up here and knock him around, help him blow off steam. Maybe he saw Dash and thought a fight would do him good.”
Dash tried to turn his laugh into a cough, but it didn’t work.
Marin didn’t look at him.
Sojo arched a brow. “You really think this was about Sebastien needing to . . . brawl?”
“You don’t know him like I do.” Giving Sojo an innocent look, she lifted a shrug. “I was around all of them growing up. It was like if they didn’t fight once or twice a week, they stopped getting oxygen to their brains. And he hasn’t spent much time around his family lately.”
Sojo looked like she wanted to laugh, but she didn’t.
Throughout all of this, Sebastien stood stone-faced, staring at the wall, saying nothing.
He might have gone on saying nothing if Sojo hadn’t shifted her tawny eyes his way and said in a silky voice, “Well, Sebastien?”
“Well, what?” He sounded bored, like she wanted to discuss the weather.
“Are you just suffering from a massive testosterone buildup? I could call Zach, see if he’d fly out here for a tussle. If I’d known that was the case, I would have told Abigale to make sure he came with her. It could be fun . . . and a fascinating promo for the movie.” Sojo studied him the way one might examine a rare and strange insect.