Page 159 of Blind Prophet

“It’s the holiday cocktail on the menu. It’s a little sweet for your taste. The snowflake martini might be more to your liking. Or you can choose your poison.”

He lifts the cocktail from my hand and sips. His nose wrinkles.

“Not to your liking?”

“No,” he says.

“They may have a bourbon you like.”

“In a minute. Would you like to meet someone from Interpol? Actually, his wife is here, too, and she’s also with Interpol. London office.”

“How do you know them?” It’s a silly question. Dorian seems to know everyone.

“He became friends with our old buddy, Nick. He introduced himself. I told him I’d loop back to him once I caught up with my wife.” He winks, grinning proudly at the use of my descriptor.

“What do they do for Interpol?”

“I doubt his official role is listed on LinkedIn. Come to think of it, an alias is likely listed.”

“Understandable. I still tell people I work for a bank.” He frowns, and I sense he wants to pick at that thread, but Sophia’s voice draws our attention.

“Caroline. Dorian,” Sophia interjects, “I’d like to introduce you to Ethan. He’s Stella and Trevor’s son.”

“The infamous Ethan,” I say, taking his hand with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same. And I’ve heard a lot about you.”

A familiar touch warms the curve of my spine.

“And I’m Dorian. Caroline’s husband.”

Our eyes lock, and an unspoken conversation flashes between us. Will I argue with him over this point? No, I accept he’s territorial, but we agreed to take things day by day, and he’s not sounding like he’s holding to our agreement.

“How long are you in town for?” I ask Ethan.

“I’m on leave through New Year’s. I’ll probably stay in town through Christmas and then head home.”

“That’s nice. I know Stella loves having you home.”

Trevor steps up behind Ethan and slaps a hand on his shoulder. “We both love it when this guy makes it home. We’re hitting the canyon on Monday. Mountain bikes. If you want to join us.”

I hesitate a second, uncertain why he would invite me mountain biking, then it hits, he’s not. He’s talking to Dorian.

“Rain check? We’re flying out to visit Caroline’s parents for the holiday. But I’d like to take you up on that.”

“You’re in Colorado, right?” Trevor asks, his tone casual despite the detailed file on Dorian’s properties that I know exists in Arrow’s databases.

“I have a place there. As you know.” Dorian’s voice remains even, acknowledging the game without playing it.

“Right, I do.” Trevor’s gaze shifts to me, then back. “So you’ll be sticking around with this one?”

The protective intent behind the question hangs in the air. Dorian’s hand finds mine.

“I’ll do my best to do just that,” Dorian answers, a simple truth carrying the weight of promise.

With a wide grin, Ethan scratches his jaw and says, “Always so protective.” He slaps his dad on his back and steps away, saying, “Nice to meet you, Caroline. Dorian.”

We all watch as he joins Stella and Ava.

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