“Renovations?” Lance answered.
Jilly clapped. “Correct!”
Sitting forward, Rosie crossed one leg over the other. “Okay. There have been cases of renovations in one house stirring up activity in another house. And if that’s the case, then that’s good news for the family. Usually activity simmers down once the renovations are done.”
“Or the spirit will make its way back to the house it originated from,” Lance added.
“Either way, what does this have to do with the de Vincents?” Rosie asked.
“Because who do you think bought the house next door to the Mendez family?” Jilly bit down on her lip as she looked between the two of them. “Lucian de Vincent.”
Rosie’s jaw dropped.
“What?” Lance stiffened.
Jilly nodded. “Yep. Preston met him over the weekend. He happened to be out in the yard while Lucian and his girlfriend were there checking on the renovations. Now, you tell me, is this just a bizarre coincidence that someone who just happens to live in one of the rumored most haunted locations in all of the United States is moving in next door to the family who reported strange activity in their house around the same time?”
Rosie had no words.
“Ghosts can sometimes follow people—you know, the whole person is haunted versus the house or property, but . . .” Lance dragged his hand through his hair. “But man, what a small world.”
Jilly grinned as she lifted her brows at Rosie. “So, since you’re apparently now best friends forever with a de Vincent,” Jilly said, and Rosie opened her mouth to correct that horrifically wrong assumption, but she kept talking. “You need to get us into the house next door to the Mendezes.”
Rosie snapped out of her stupor. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
Across from her Jilly met her gaze and her grin turned downright demonic. “I’m willing to bet my entire signed first-edition set of the Twilight series that it will happen.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
Dev lifted his gaze from the glow of his computer to where Gabe stood. It was late, damn near midnight, and the columns of numbers—deposits from banks in China, Russia, and Uzbekistan—were giving him a fucking headache. Deposits from banks in countries were Dev knew damn well they did not do enough business to warrant seven-figure deposits.
It had taken the forensic accountant months to peel back layers of fake accounts and transfer numbers and all the false information provided by some of Lawrence’s lawyers and financial advisers, then to ferret out where the deposits had originated from, and these banks were confirming the worst of Dev’s suspicions.
So, at the moment, he really didn’t have the patience for whatever Gabe wanted to talk about.
“I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to, but I’m not exactly in the mood for this conversation.” Dev minimized the spreadsheets before he sat back in his chair.
“You’re never in the mood for anything, at least anything good.” Gabe strolled on into the office and planted his hands on the backs of the two chairs seated in front of Dev’s desk. “But I’ll give you a refresher.”
“Of course.”
Gabe’s jaw hardened. “The way you spoke to Nikki’s friend today? That was unacceptable.”
Tension crept into Dev’s neck. “Unacceptable to whom?”
“To any decent fucking human being,” Gabe shot back. “You made her go move her car and for what? You normally don’t give two shits about your truck being parked outside the garage.”
That wasn’t exactly untrue, and to be honest, Dev wasn’t sure why he’d demanded that Rosie move her car. The request was . . . immature and asinine. Even he could admit that to himself. He’d done it because he knew . . . he knew it would get a rise out of her and for some reason he wanted to do that. “You waited until midnight to have this conversation?”
“I waited until Nikki was asleep and wasn’t going to have a goddamn nightmare to come to talk to you.” Gabe pushed off the chairs. “Right now Nikki needs to be surrounded by her friends and family and people who give a damn about her. And if that means Rosie is going to be here to visit her, you need to get the hell over that.”
“I don’t care if Rosie comes to visit her,” Dev replied.
“Really? You don’t? Sure didn’t seem that way. The moment you knew someone was here, you made her feel about as welcome as a cat in a room full of dogs.”
Contrary to what his brothers believed, he didn’t have a preternatural sense that told him when people were in the house, nor did he waste time worrying over what they were doing when they were there. As long as his brothers’ guests didn’t roam around and stayed the hell out of his line of sight, he couldn’t care less.
His gaze lowered to the glass of bourbon on his desk. Gabe had no idea just how much of an asshole he had been to Rosie. Shit. Even Dev felt a stirring of . . . guilt. The woman, though, she pushed every single one of his buttons—buttons he didn’t even know he had—but he had been unreasonable and uncouth toward Rosie. What he’d said to her . . . ?
Not only had that been completely uncalled-for, it also had been a lie.
Not the part when he said she’d be begging him to stop and pleading to keep going. Or the part where he promised no one would fuck her harder or longer. That was the truth. Saying that the mere idea of him ever fucking her was laughable was the lie.
There was nothing funny about that, and he’d thought about it a lot since Saturday morning. Enough that he was already convinced that she’d be . . . Exhaling roughly, Dev picked up the glass of bourbon and took a drink. Rosie would be like no other. He already knew that.
“Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked, lifting his gaze to Gabe.
His brother was silent and then he asked, “What in the hell did that man do to you?”
Every muscle locked up. Dev didn’t even twitch a finger. “What man?”
“Don’t play that game with me. You know I’m talking about Lawrence. What in the hell did he do to you to make you this miserable?”
For a moment he couldn’t believe his brother had asked him that question, but then he remembered Gabe didn’t know. Neither did Lucian. He stared back at his brother, wishing he would go back to Nikki. Not because he wanted Gabe to get the hell out of his face. But because he didn’t want his brother digging up fresh skeletons.
“What did he do, Dev?” Gabe wasn’t leaving. Not yet. “I need to know, because with every day that goes by, you’re becoming more like him, and that fucking terrifies me.”
Dev’s jaw locked down as his right hand tightened on the glass. He couldn’t even speak.
Gabe stared at him for a long moment and then barked out a harsh, short laugh as he shook his head. “Whatever. Good night, Dev.”
He sat there and watched his brother walk out of his office, closing the door behind him. The glass was heavy in his hand as Gabe’s words cycled over and over. “You’re becoming more like him.” Dev would never become Lawrence. Never.
Dev’s body reacted without thought.
Standing, he cocked his arm back and threw the glass across the room. It smashed into the closed door, shattering upon impact. Liquor and glass sprayed the hardwood floors. He stood there, still, for several moments and then he drew in a deep, slow breath. He fixed the cuffs of his shirt and sat back down, turning his attention back to the evidence of what Lawrence de Vincent had been involved in.
Chapter 10
The following afternoon, Dev stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out over the city, his mind running in what felt like a thousand different directions even though he was still and solid as the building he stood in.
He’d just finished a meeting with the city planning officials over plans to break ground on the project de Vincent Industrials was funding. What had begun as a new office had now morphed into an entire damn medical complex, but the state-of-the-art facility meant Dr. Flores remained discreet whenever his family needed medical assistance, and for that, there was no price tag.