Chapter 271: What’s Going On?

Holly’s POV

I pushed through the glass door of Le Petit Coin at 01:14, exactly fourteen minutes late, and the smell of fresh baguettes and garlic butter hit me like a warm hug.

Justin was already at a corner table…window seat, sunlight slanting across his shoulders, looking unfairly relaxed in a faded gray hoodie and jeans.

He spotted me immediately, grinned that easy, boyish grin that always made me feel like the world wasn’t quite so heavy, and half-stood to wave me over.

I slid into the chair opposite him, trying to look normal. Trying to look like I hadn’t just been straddling his brother in an office chair while said brother growled filthy promises about lunch against my mouth.

“Sorry,” I said, dropping my bag beside me. “Meeting ran over. You know how it is.”

Justin waved it off. “No worries. I ordered what I remember as your favorite…avocado toast with the chili crisp and the iced oat matcha. Figured you’d need the caffeine after Thursday morning hell.”

I smiled. It felt brittle. “You’re the best.”

And he was. He really was.

But my brain refused to stay in the present.

Every time I blinked, I saw David’s eyes…dark, desperate, pupils blown wide…right before he kissed me like he was trying to tattoo himself onto my soul.

I could still feel the imprint of his hands on my ass, the way he’d squeezed and lifted me so I ground down harder against him, the rough promise in his voice: Rush lunch. Come back here fast. I’ve got my own lunch to eat.

God. I wanted to feed him myself. Right now. I wanted to march back to the office, lock the door, climb onto his desk, and let him starve for nothing except me. I wanted…

“Holly?”

I blinked.

Justin was looking at me with that gentle, worried crease between his brows. He’d tapped the table twice with his knuckles, the way he always did when he thought I’d checked out.

“You okay?” he asked softly. “This is the first time we’ve done lunch since… you know. The accident. I guess I was stupid enough to think we’d just pick up where we left off and have a good time. But if something’s wrong—”

“No, no.” Guilt hit me like cold water. I reached across the table and squeezed his wrist. “I’m sorry. I really am. I just have a lot on my mind right now. But it can wait. Seriously. Tell me what you’ve been up to. I want to hear everything.”

He studied me for another second, then exhaled and leaned back, accepting the deflection. “Okay. But only because you asked nicely.”

I forced myself to tuck David away…his hot, annoyingly possessive kiss, the diamond heartbeat still warm against my collarbone, the way his thigh had felt between mine…and focused on Justin. Really focused.

He started talking.

The past week had been chaos. A freelance graphic design gig that paid stupidly well but had the client changing their mind every twelve hours. A new gym routine that was kicking his ass but making him feel alive for the first time in months. A terrible Tinder date that ended with the girl asking if he’d ever considered becoming a sugar baby. (He hadn’t. He laughed so hard telling me that part that the table shook.)

And then, quieter, almost like an afterthought: “I had a fight with David last night.”

My stomach dropped as soon as those words left his mouth.

He reached up, pushed his hair back, and that’s when I saw it…the small white plaster just above his left eyebrow, half-hidden by the messy fringe.

“Jesus,” I breathed. “What happened?”

Justin shrugged, but the movement was too tight. “He had someone tailing me. Again. I caught the guy outside my apartment building two nights in a row. Same black SUV, same bored expression. I confronted David about it on the porch. Things got loud. Really loud. We said shit we can’t take back. And then…” He gestured vaguely at his forehead. “Fists happened. We’re both grown men acting like teenagers. It’s pathetic.”

I felt sick.

Had I done this? Had the tension between us…the accident, the incident that led to it…pushed them to the edge? Was I the reason these two brothers, who’d already been through hell together, were now bleeding on each other’s doorsteps?

“Justin, I—”

“I’m fine,” he cut in quickly. “Really. It’s not the first time we’ve gone at it. Probably won’t be the last. I was just… angry. I’m tired of feeling like I don’t have a life of my own. Like every move I make is being watched and reported back to him.”

I swallowed hard. “I get that. I do. But… I’m kind of used to it, you know? My sister Ava was always the same way. She had people trailing me everywhere. At one point she even hired two bodyguards…big, silent guys in black suits who looked like they bench-pressed cars for fun. It felt suffocating sometimes. But I’ve come to understand it comes from the older-sibling thing. The need to protect. To look after the younger ones. They don’t mean harm. They’re just… caring. It’s in their nature.”

Justin looked at me for a long beat, then laughed—short, disbelieving. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” I nudged his foot under the table. “Ava would literally hire a private investigator if I went on a date with someone she didn’t vet first. She still texts me at 2 a.m. sometimes just to make sure I’m home safe. It’s annoying as hell, but it’s love. Messy, overbearing love.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then, so quietly I almost missed it, he muttered:

“I bet your sister isn’t a murderer.”

I froze.

The fork halfway to my mouth stopped moving. The restaurant noise…the clink of cutlery, the low hum of conversation…faded to nothing.

“What did you just say?”

Justin looked up, expression perfectly neutral. “Hmm?”

“What did you just say?”

He blinked, innocent. “I said I bet your sister isn’t a micromanager. That’s all.”

I stared at him.

I had heard it. Clear as day. The word had slipped out like a shard of glass…sharp, deliberate, and gone in the next breath.

Murderer.

My pulse kicked up so hard I felt it in my fingertips.

Why would Justin call his own brother that?

Who did David kill?

Why?

The question lodged in my throat like a stone. I wanted to demand answers. I wanted to shake him until the truth fell out. But something…some instinct older than reason…kept my mouth shut.

Justin was watching me now, head tilted slightly, like he was waiting to see if I’d push.

I didn’t.

Instead I forced a small laugh, shaky. “Right. Micromanager. Got it.”

He nodded once, satisfied, and went back to his sandwich.

But my mind was screaming.

Murderer.

The word echoed in my skull, louder with every heartbeat.

David...the man who’d kissed me like I was oxygen, who’d put diamonds around my neck and growled that he wanted to devour me…had killed someone?

And Justin knew.

And he’d let it slip.

Or maybe he hadn’t let it slip at all.

Maybe he’d wanted me to hear it.

But why?