Page 15 of To Curse A Knight

And I was the only one who knew them all.

Cocking my head, I assessed Lucky, who still leisurely took up space in my living room. I could call him on his shit right here and now, metaphorically castrate his agenda, and shift the power balance between us—but I didn’t know enough yet. Someone had hired him; I needed to know who and what they’d hired him to do.

If he was going to steal something, he might as well get it over with while living in the lion’s den—but the simplicity of that plan didn’t sit well with me. A thief didn’t need to follow me in the middle of the night to keep up the pretense. There had to be more to the story—a lot more—and I was determined to find out.

So, instead of pinning him to the wall with all that I knew, I raked my eyes over the well-honed biceps and thighs trapped in his form-fitting suit, sprawled out in all theirglory, and enjoyed the view for a second longer than I should before responding.

“I drink them in my coffee, and it looks like I’m fresh out. I wouldn’t test me.”

Swinging his legs down to the floor, he settled into a seated position, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze peeking out from beneath long lashes, locked on mine in an intense stare of feral hunger.

“Oh, how I’dloveto test you, lass.”

Warmth spread deep in my belly and directly into my silk panties. His heated suggestion contagious, I tossed ice-chilled water on the fire before it could build further. Lauchlan O’Donnell was a tool to be wielded against the Alvarez empire; nothing more. Sexual attraction and chemistry be damned.

“I’ll bet you would.” I said, intentionally tossing his words back at him then poured his bribery caffeine down the sink and finished making my cappuccino.

He didn’t take the bait, silent gaze on me as I worked; his stare burned a tiny hole through my shoulder blades, like I was an ant beneath his magnifying glass.

Having someone else in my space—especiallyhim—was going to take some getting used to. With any luck, we’d be able to find an in to take down Alvarez as quickly as possible. For Aaron’s sake, and for mine.

Speaking of—it was time for Lauchlan to earn his keep around here.

“Alright, Lucky,” I sat on the sofa across from him, crossed my legs, and stared into the cocky recesses of his soul. I’d have to sip my coffee while conducting this small impromptu business meeting.

“It’s time for you to spill. Your sister…” I prompted, eyeing him expectantly.

The playful nature that always danced behind his eyes dissipated instantly, the glow within the sea-glass going eerilyblank. Still, his smile remained. He steepled his fingers in his lap and brought them up to rest on his lips.

“Fecking Conan.” He shook his head, his smile morphing into a pained grimace. “He had to fuck me to get it out of me, but yeah, my sis.”

My perfect brows rose to my hairline as I nearly choked on the drink halfway down my throat. Sputtering, I wiped the dribbles of coffee off my mug. “He failed to mention that part.”

“Did he, now?” Lauchlan’s eyes lit up again in amusement, the familiar cocky grin taking over his features. “Well, that won’t do, will it? No secrets among the musketeers now, aye? Tied me to the bedpost and fucked me till I spilled my secrets and my cum all over his bedsheets. Would have been a great torture porn.”

Shifting back into his seat, he eyed me in challenge. He clearly thought he’d shocked me.

As if I hadn’t read the sexual tension between them months ago.

“Couldn’t have been too great of a fuck if he only got one secret out of you.” I raised a brow and took another, more cautious sip of my coffee. “Perhaps a woman’s touch was needed.”

He relaxed further into the cushion, his brows knitting together into a serious frown.

“I have no more secrets to spill, love.”

He was so good at duplicity; it was truly astonishing to watch—not a single standard tell to show he was lying. When all the cards were on the table and I truly had him at my mercy, I would force him to teach me—I could use that level of skill in the boardroom.

“And your sister?” I prompted again, determined to get one story—a real one—out of him.

He tore his gaze from mine and rubbed a hand over his jaw, his calloused palm scraping over the two-day-old stubble atop his cheeks. Taking a page out of Aaron’s patience book, I waited, sipping what remained of my coffee as I tried to assess every nuanced shift of muscle in his face.

“Shayna is—was,” he corrected on a sigh, his stare downcast into the couch cushion, “my half-sister, but she might as well have been my parasite for how close we were.”

“Da had an affair after a family job when I was nine. Ma came to America, and I stayed with him—he didn’t marry her, but she had a child out of it, and Shayna became my world. Tiny little thing in need of protectin’, so I became her protector.”

My stomach twinged, the admission forcing pricks of unease down my spine. I didn’t want to see similarities in our situations. Lucky was a chess piece. Anything else would be too… complicated.

“While I was away in college—I have a degree in 'tech’, by the way.” He smiled ruefully. “Software Engineering. Anyway, she got on with the wrong set of blokes. Groomers. She was fourteen, young and stupid, and they convinced her to do some things on cam. Then they blackmailed her with it to do other… things.”

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