The room froze, and I watched in satisfaction as the man’s breath hitched, a wet, panicked sound tearing out of him as he stared down at the steel trembling between his splayed fingers. His face drained of color so fast it was almost impressive.
I leaned back in my chair like I’d just adjusted a cuff. “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I wrapped my fingers around the handle and drew the knife out slowly, letting the scrape of metal carry through the silence. “How did that get there?”
No one laughed, which said a lot about the men in this room. That was funny.
The man yanked his hand back like it had been burned, and his chair screeched as he stumbled to his feet. His eyes flicked to mine, then to Declan’s, then anywhere but back to the table.
“I—I was just—” he choked out. Whatever excuse he h
