THE CONTRACT (The Chosen Series #2)

YOUR SECRETS AND LIES

"O'Connell." Sebastian lets the name roll over his tongue, the sound sensual. Running a finger over his glass and turning to Alexei, his dark eyes flare with curiosity, "Do we know any O'Connell's?"

"He was the old Alpha of the Mac tíre dubh pack," Alexei replies, lifting his whiskey and taking a generous mouthful of the amber liquid.

Cursing internally, I realize that Alexei must be piecing together Isla's age and the timing of Lorcan's demise. He might not have direct ties to the Brady family, but he's sharp enough to connect the dots.

Bass lifts a gloved hand, gently stroking his beard in contemplation. "Lorcan, right?"

Alexei nods thoughtfully, his gaze betraying a hint of calculation.

Thankfully, Grigor and several wait staff enter the dining room with the first course, interrupting Bass and putting a halt to any further questions.

I seize the soup spoon as a bowl of what appears to be chowder is placed before me, clearing my throat. "This looks fantastic. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm absolutely starving."

I catch a smirk from Alexei in my peripheral vision and interpret it as my signal to start eating, with Isla following suit.

Ignoring the subtle cue, Bass persists, his soup untouched. "I remember crossing paths with the old Alpha once or twice. I believe his name was Lorcan." He takes another sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on Isla, who now appears slightly pale as she delicately samples the soup.

"You know, you don't bear much resemblance to him."

I need to defuse this now.

Setting down my spoon with a deliberate clink against the bone china, I draw everyone's gaze to me. Once I'm sure Bass's attention is on me, I flash him a saccharine smile. "Yes, Bass, since we're discussing parents, why don't we delve into the topic of all of ours?"

I sense Alexei's hand shifting to rest on my leg, but I disregard both him and his touch. "We all know I'm clueless about my heritage," I lie, "but you boys, well, we're aware of your paternal lineage. Except for you, Damir." I cast him an apologetic glance. Only Alexei's father was privy to the details, appearing when Alexei was a toddler, but he never disclosed Damir's parentage to either man before his disappearance.

Sensing Alexei's squeeze on my leg, I realize he's likely guessed where I'm steering this conversation. However, I persist, prioritizing my duty to shield Isla over any potential fallout. "But why do we always skirt around the topic of your mothers?" I direct a smirk at Bass, who responds with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel, crimson sparks igniting behind his dark, midnight eyes.

"Enough," Alexei's voice cuts through the tension, low yet commanding, thick with intent. The atmosphere instantly shifts, his energy permeating the room.

The mothers of the elementals at this table are never broached, deemed taboo subjects—especially around Alexei. But to hell with him and with them. If they wish to probe into my family's affairs, then I'll let them feel the sting of my claws.

Running his tongue over his bottom lip, anger still palpable in his demeanor, Bass reclines in his chair and picks up his spoon. "Fine then, family is off-limits," he remarks. Just as I reach for another bite, he returns his focus to Isla, the prick. "So, Isla, care to share what you enjoy doing for fun?"

Putting down her spoon, Isla gazes back at him, her expression surprisingly calm, devoid of fear. "I dance and work."

"Dance?" Bass echoes, his interest piqued.

"Isla's quite the talented dancer," Damir interjects, his remark eliciting a hint of blush on Isla's cheeks, a welcome change from her previous pallor.

"Thank you," Isla murmurs softly.