Page 71 of Velvet Corruption

Jesus Christ.

Yeah…that was my brother’s kid, alright.

I exhaled through my nose. “What kind of uncle do you think I am?”

Catherine gave me a considering look. “One that loses.”

Mateo bounced like a wind-up toy. “You’re totally gonna fight.”

“We’re not going to fight. But if we did fight, I would win,” I said.

The twins looked at each other and laughed.

“Well, I could beatyouin a fight,” I said. The twins laughed some more before Adriana approached from up the steps.

“Don’t encourage them,” Adriana said. She appeared at the top of the stairs, Cam drooping on her hip, his two-year-old face smushed into her shoulder. “Kids, go wash up for lunch. Kieran—are you just here to be a bad influence?”

“I was invited,” I pointed out.

She arched her brow, lips curling slightly in a friendly smirk. “Were you? I don’t remember that.”

“You’re less funny than you think you are.”

“Your brother thinks I’m funny.”

“Yeah, well, Tristan doesn’t have a good sense of humor,” I replied.

She didn’t flip me off, but I could tell that she wanted to. I didn’t push my luck; Tristan’s footsteps were coming down the hall behind her, and even if we were friendly, he didn’t like anyone pushing his wife’s buttons.

Mateo beamed. “Daddy, Uncle Kieran’s here to fight!”

Tristan didn’t blink. “Yeah? Let’s see if he walks back out.”

The kids laughed like it was the best joke they’d ever heard. I gave Tristan a deadpan look as I stepped up toward the top of the steps, even if I knew as well as the kids did that Tristan could kick my ass; if anything, age had only made him more dangerous and more…dad. Rolled up sleeves, wedding ring, silver at his temples.

Yeah. He would end me if he had to.

Tristan kissed the top of Cam’s head, then Adriana’s cheek. “We won’t be long. Is your sister coming?”

“Yes,” Adriana replied. “She’ll be here soon. I’m going to put Cam down for a nap. What do you think, baby? Are you ready for bed?”

“No!” he replied forcefully, which made even me laugh.

“And yet,” Tristan said, “you must.”

Cam pouted, but he buried his face into Adriana’s shoulder and she laughed again. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Kieran,” Tristan said finally. “My office?”

I nodded, swallowing whatever smartass comment was on the tip of my tongue.

We moved away from the noise of the house—the clatter of dishes, the low hum of cartoons, the sound of Cam mumbling sleepily into his mother’s neck. The hallway grew quieter with each step, like the air itself was bracing.

Tristan’s office was pristine. Hardwood floors. Shelves lined with leather-bound books and heirlooms passed down from men who hadn’t needed to raise their voices to get what they wanted. The door shut behind us with a soft click, and the quiet that followed wasn’t peaceful—it was surgical.

“You look tired,” Tristan said, giving me a once-over. His tone was dry, clipped. Not concerned. Measuring.

I forced a shrug. “I’m getting old.”

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