Chapter 78

Thomas threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing across the terrace under a sky still mottled with the last dusky hues of twilight. A gentle breeze whispered through the potted ferns and lanterns caught its glow, sending soft ripples of light across his glass. “Damn,” he said, grinning at Cyrus, who leaned against the low railing with arms crossed. “How on earth did you end up as Cassandra’s brother? Look at my wife—so sweet, so doting—and then there’s you… well, you know exactly what I mean.”

Cyrus’s dark eyes narrowed, and for a moment the only movement was the flutter of leaves overhead. “I really want to kill you,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Thomas waved a hand dismissively, though his grin widened. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But c’mon, it’s the truth.” He glanced at the small table between them, its surface already dotted with empty beer bottles. “I’m going back inside for more.” With that, he rose and strolled through the French doors, leaving Cyr