“I said I was fine,” she repeated in an irritated voice, as though they’d had this argument many times before. “I also told you there was no need to come down here. You never listen to me.”

“I’m your big brother,” he said. “I’m supposed to watch out for you.”

Big brother? Yeah, I could see that. Eva had the same coloring as the thirtysomething man. Blue-black hair, pale eyes, milky skin. It made her beautiful. Him too, in a cold sort of way.

“Now, tell me what happened,” the man demanded again.

Eva rolled her eyes and launched into a recount of the attempted robbery. As she talked, the man crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps bulged with the motion, and he started tapping one finger on his opposite elbow.

Despite the movements, he was totally focused on his sister, as though she was the most important thing in the world to him. Maybe she was. He stared at the red welt on her cheek, and his hands curled into fists. I got the distinct feeling he would love to have some alone time with Jake McAllister.

When Eva finished her story, her big brother turned his attention to me. For the first time, I felt the full force of his gaze. Sharp, shrewd, calculating. Like looking into my own eyes. He walked forward and held out his hand.

“Owen Grayson.”

Well, the hits just kept on coming. First, Jake McAllister decided to grace my restaurant with his presence, and now Owen Grayson had come to collect his sister.

I’d heard of him, of course. Grayson was one of the city’s wealthiest businessmen. Mining, timber, metal manufacturing.

He had his fingers in a lot of money-making pies. With his subdued suit and chiseled features, Grayson didn’t have the ostentatious, deadly, in-your-face flash of Mab Monroe, who enjoyed flaunting her status as the city’s golden girl. Still, I knew power when I saw it—elemental or otherwise. And Owen Grayson had plenty.

Definitely someone worth watching.

“Gin Blanco.”

“Gin?” he asked.

“Like the liquor,” I quipped.

Owen Grayson’s eyes glittered at my wry tone, but I still put my hand in his. Grayson’s fingers curled around my skin like thick ropes of kudzu. Hard, sturdy, and almost unbreakable. He might not be a dwarf, but there had to be some of the blood in his veins. Only way to explain that kind of grip. Grayson glanced down at our entwined hands and frowned, as though I’d static-shocked him or something. Maybe I had, because I felt a brief prick on my palm.

The sensation vanished, and I tightened my own grip, just to show him I wasn’t easily intimidated. A small smile tugged up Grayson’s lips, as though he found my show of strength amusing. I gave him a cool stare. The hostility must have flickered in my gray eyes because Owen Grayson let go first.