“I know. Leon’s brother. I recognized your face from the media photos.”
They’re having a fucking conversation like I’m not in the room, but the damn ceiling won’t stop spinning for long enough to make me string words into a sentence.
I turn my face. The room tilts. They’re shaking hands.
“And you are?” Damian asks after a beat.
“Oh.” Violet’s face turns scarlet red. “I’m Violet.” She rubs her palms on her thighs. “I’m, um, Leon’s wife.”
My brother’s only reaction is the slight twitch of his eyes. “In that case, congratulations is in order.”
She huffs a laugh. “He didn’t tell you.”
“Don’t take it personally,” Damian says. “We’re not that close.”
“This is…” Violet looks away. “Awkward.”
“You should come over.” Damian’s smile is stilted. “My wife wanted me to invite Leon for lunch. I’m sure she’d like to meet you.”
“Thanks,” Violet says, looking anywhere but at Damian.
“This weekend then.” He walks to the door. “Sunday.” Giving her another impersonal smile, he adds, “There’s no time like the present.”
With those words, he’s gone.
Violet disappears, going after him, presumably to see him out and lock the door.
My, “Don’t go,” is lost in the darkness, feeble words from a slain man, all because she makes me weak.