Grievous (Wanted Men #5) - Nancy Haviland Page 0,53

closet so the room wouldn’t appear a mess. “Lucian, Lucian. What am I going to do with you?”

Once her task was done, she freshened up, and seeing as the heavy clouds that had brought in the snow had muted the daylight, it was through shadowed corridors that she went in search of her grieving owner.

She didn’t get lost. But she also didn’t have to wander aimlessly, looking for Lucian’s office. As she entered the foyer, she heard voices coming from the front sitting room. One was the accented rumble she was in need of, so she went over, but paused after only a couple of steps into a room that had exposed pale-gray brick walls and honey-colored hardwood floors. Okay. This place was gorgeous. The massive fireplace made it look more like a ski chalet than the sitting room in a castle.

Four men stood next to a grouping of four high-back chairs. Lucian was one of them, Sorin another. They quieted when they noticed her.

“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

The other two were strangers who wore black suits and gunmetal overcoats. Sorin, who had clearly been interrupted mid-workout, was in black sweats and a soaked tank. Holy shit. She wasn’t sure what was more impressive, his physique or his ink. Damn, she wanted to go over and explore it because, hey, art was art. From this far away, she couldn’t say for sure, but she was almost certain he and Lucian shared a tattoo artist.

“Yasmeen.”

Lucian’s sharp tone brought her to attention, and she realized she was staring at his meathead. Her ears got impossibly hot when she looked over to see her lover was glaring at her. Lover, she scoffed silently. Rather than prolong the awkward moment by explaining that she was only admiring what appeared to be the freaking Sistine Chapel on Sorin’s hulking shoulder, she forced a bright smile. As usual, her nerves came out in the form of nonsense.

“I heard voices and thought my Uber showed while I was upstairs. Did I miss it?”

She held her smile when Lucian’s jaw clenched, his hard gaze raking down her form. Out of the corner of her eye, she was sure she saw Sorin smile before he turned away.

“No Uber driver would survive after breaching my front gates,” the cranky warden murmured. “Come. Sit. We were just finishing up.”

He pointed the men to the door as she moved toward the uncomfortable-looking sofa.

“Behave yourself, draga,” Lucian murmured with a caress to her hip as he passed by.

She wavered, and her limbs felt loose when she reached her destination. She fell to the firm cushions, and the men began talking in Romanian again as they disappeared.

“Uh, Sorin?” she called before he could leave through a narrow door in the corner. Questionable if he could fit. “I’m sorry for staring. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was only looking at your artwork. It’s very beautiful.”

“I think we are both aware ogling is above you.” Lucian came back into the room, and Sorin was definitely trying not to smile as he left. “Would you like a tour?”

She got up. “Uh, okay. I was assuming you’d throw me to the floor and I’d have to suffer through hours-long sex with my jailor, but a tour sounds cool.” She just about jumped out of her skin when her arm was touched. She spun around to find an older woman standing there. She was smiling as she held a tray up, offering Yasmeen a tall glass of what looked like iced tea, complete with the sprig of mint.

“Oh, God. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there. Please forgive me. That was so inappropriate.” She threw a glare at Lucian. Idiot! He should have told her they weren’t alone. ‘I didn’t know you were there,” she repeated as she swiftly took the glass and a cocktail napkin. “Thank you.” Her face. Was. On. Fire.

The woman just continued to smile as she left through the same door Sorin had used. Fucking secret passages? She downed the entire drink in one go, wishing it was laced with something that would prevent her from getting behind the wheel after consuming.

“You couldn’t have warned me we weren’t alone?” As she struggled through a brain-freeze from hell, she banged the glass down on the table—making sure the napkin was beneath it so she didn’t leave a ring. “I just embarrassed both of us. The poor woman.”

“How was I to know you would beg to have hours-long sex on the