“It’s eleven p.m., Elena. Where the hell were you?” my brother demands as soon as I appear in the doorway of our kitchen.
There’s a bowl of ice cream in front of him. Mint chocolate chip, which is gross. He shovels down a large spoonful while glaring at me. I roll my eyes.
“Cut the s**t, Tony. I have a human locator following me around everywhere I go,” I say as I take a seat, referring to Carlos, who doubles as both my driver and bodyguard whenever I’m in New York. “You know exactly where I was.”
I’m exhausted after my bizarre conversation with Roman. I was hoping I could get home and sneak into my room for a good night’s rest but no such luck.
“Why’d you spend so long at the home base?” he questions.
“I was comforting Rosa,” I lie.
I doubt he’d be happy to hear I was with his best
