Rosalie smiles as the waiter places three more drinks in front of us. “Alexei.”
“That’s right. I’d nearly forgotten. Alexei is in prison.” Ella looks up, her eyes cloudy behind the glasses. “He brutally murdered the husband of his lover. Remember? The story dominated the news for weeks.”
I shiver. “I do remember.” Every news outlet had shown his hard and furious face. The last thing I need is to end up in a family that thinks adultery excuses murder. Not that I’d commit either, to be honest. “I’m surprised his family didn’t make it all go away.”
“There were too many witnesses,” Rosalie murmurs. “Money doesn’t always buy everyone off.”
I pat her hand. My friend has the kindest heart in the world, even when she’s encouraging me to ride men like horses. She’s an attorney who’s as ambitious they come. “Sometimes the right things actually happen in life.”
“I know,” Rosalie says, staring at me. “You aren’t really going to marry this guy, are you?”
I bite my lip. “No. I’m not. At least I don’t think I am.”
Ella shakes her head. “You’re pale, Alana. Did you get any sleep last night?”
“No.” I’m a terrible liar, so I don’t bother with my friends.
“Nightmares?” Rosalie asks, losing the teasing glint in her eye.
I try to banish the images from my mind. “Yes.”
Ella sighs. “Maybe we should try hypnotism again. You need to access those memories to get over this.”
“They might not be memories. I could’ve just seen a scary movie too young,” I whisper, even though I have tried to banish the images several times.
Rosalie glances at Ella and then looks at me. “The key is in your phobia.”
I lift a hand. “I don’t have a phobia.” At least not one recognized by any medical establishment.
“Yes, you do,” Ella says gently. “It’s called a specific phobia, and you know it.”
What I know is that I don’t want to endure “exposure therapy” again, even if that is one way to deal with a phobia. Mine is weird. It’s an aversion to the argyle pattern, especially in windows. “Listen. This only happens during times of extreme stress, and I’m still grieving for my brother.”
“Hi, ladies.” Nico suddenly comes into view and reaches our table before I can continue my denial.
I lean back, grateful he’s saving me from another discussion about my nightmares. “Nico, it’s nice to see you. What are you doing in this place?” The corny tavern with the bright lights and beer-crusted floor is the last place I’d expect to find my elegant cousin.
He sneers at the sticky floor and then nods to both Rosalie and Ella. “I feel bad about how the board meeting went.” He stares into my eyes. “I promised Greg a long time ago if anything happened to him that I would protect you.”
At the mention of my brother’s name, my body goes cold. Then hope unfurls in my chest like a freshly watered flower. My brother was ten years older than me, but there were times we played together like kids. He was my sounding board for most of my life, and even after he turned all serious with the business, he was still easier to approach than our father. “He asked you that?”
“Yes,” Nico says. “I know that he turned hard, but Greg always cared about you and wanted you to have a good life. He was more than willing to take over the company so you wouldn’t have to be anywhere near it. Not that you haven’t helped and done an excellent job as an influencer,” he hastens to add.
“Thank you, Nico,” I say, warming again. Somehow it helps to know that Greg cared. “I’m all right with whatever I have to do for the family.” But marrying a man I don’t know? How does that make sense for me?
Ella shifts to the side. “Have a seat, Nico.”
He pats her shoulder, and she beams. “Thanks, El.”
El? Interesting. They make a lovely couple, actually. “Sit with us, Nico,” I urge. “We can figure this out. I’m sure of it.”
Nico sighs. “You’ve grown up nicely, Alana, and you definitely have a brain. A good one. I understand your commitment and agree if you and I work together, we can convince your father there’s another way. I just don’t know what it is.”
“I’ll figure something out,” I say, noting both of my friends watching my handsome cousin, who’s still standing close to Ella. “Would you like to have a drink with us?”
He glances at the aquamarine-studded watch that matches the ring on his index finger. “No. I’m wanted back at headquarters. We’re trying to hack into Malice Media this week.”
My ears heat. “Seriously, you think you can hack Malice?”
“We’re trying.” Nico reads the screen of his phone and tucks it away in his jacket. “If we can just get our hands on their AI interface technology, we could finally take that bastard down.”
“Have you ever met him?” Ella asks, leaning forward.
Nico turns to her, his gaze appraising. “I don’t know anybody who has met Thorn Beathach. Sometimes we wonder if he exists.”
“Oh, he exists,” Ella says. “I’ve tracked him enough through the web to know that he’s a real person, a deadly one.”
Nico shifts his weight, and emotion darkens his handsome face. “Don’t track Beathach on the web. He’ll know, and he’ll kill you. Ella, be smart.”
Ella’s chin lifts. “I can cover my tracks.”
Yeah. You go, girl. Even so, unease tempers my pride in her. “Why do you say he’s deadly?”
She shrugs. “Any time there’s a mention of him, it’s either retracted, deleted, or the person posting it disappears. Accidents, you know?”
Right. Accidents that are anything but. Perhaps I should combine Aquarius’s resources with Hologrid Hub’s, if for no other reason than to counter the evil obvious in Malice Media. Seriously. The name itself shows Thorn isn’t trying to hide his agenda. For me, it’s like a red flag waved in front of a bull. Come and get me, he whispers.
Ella swallows. “I don’t think any of us want to make an enemy out of Thorn Beathach.”
