Last, he knew in all the getting to know you and figuring things out he and Olivia had been doing between fucking and just being together, he’d not figured out how to explain he intended to destroy her father, kill a family henchman and he’d first met her through carefully planned machinations because he intended to use her to start that plan in motion.

What he did not know was why Olivia seemed aloof while bringing Nair up out of the blue.

“Yes,” he confirmed tightly. “I know Nair.”

“Well…” she flipped out a hand, “he’s dead.”

Nick stared at her.

“Say again?” he asked.

“Around about the time he told Dad that when Valenzuela chewed him up and spit him out then put me on the auction block and Nair was going to buy me, come all over me and then put me out for sale, Dad blew his head off with his .45. He could have picked his nine millimeter, which would have been far less messy. But Dad doesn’t do the clean up or even order it, so he doesn’t mind messy.”

Nick felt the muscle jump in his cheek as his hands formed fists.

Although stunned at the suddenness of it when Nair had been a pain in the ass for a fucking long time, Nick was not at all pissed Nair was dead.

The guy was a dick. He’d fucked with Knight in seriously shitty ways. And he was a memory that Nick didn’t like having since Nick had used the man back when he was an asshole to try to drive his brother and his woman apart.

But he was pissed because he felt grateful to Vincent Shade for taking him out due to all of those reasons but especially because Nair spouted that shit in front of Nick’s woman.

And he was pissed because he didn’t like feeling grateful to Vincent Shade at all.

“A rare, as in unique demonstration of fatherly affection,” she declared, lifting her drink and taking a sip. She went on after she lowered it again. “That being said both in terms of it as the first demonstration of fatherly affection I remember in, I don’t know…ever and blowing a man’s head off with a .45 is just a jacked-up, crazy, lunatic way to demonstrate affection.”

“Are you okay?” Nick asked, his voice still tight.

“Yes,” she answered casually. “I was far enough away. No blood or brain matter hit me.”

“Livvie,” he whispered, his warning gentle this time that her bullshit needed to stop.

“Who does that?” she whispered back and he saw it happening deep in her eyes.

She was losing it.

Nick shifted closer.

“Georgia just called Gill, ordered a cleanup and asked when we could reschedule our meeting. Now who does that?” she asked.

He lifted both hands and framed her face.