Though, as he gazed around the bright foyer, he had to admit, he missed the place. The downfall of living on his own was that the loneliness ate at him more often than not, but he figured he’d get used to it over time.

When he stepped inside, Dane, the man who’d taken Leyton’s previous post as Max’s right hand, greeted him with a grunt. The guy looked far scarier than he actually was. After an attack a few months ago, Dane was left with a nasty scar that ran the length of his face. Odd though it was, the man was still attractive, despite the gruesome disfigurement. Though it had healed, it’d done some serious damage, leaving his face partially paralyzed, but Dane acted as though it didn’t bother him. At least when he knew people were watching. As for how he truly felt about the whole thing, Leyton didn’t know, because, although they’d worked together for years, the two of them weren’t that close. It was no secret that Leyton kept his personal life to himself, but the same could be said about Dane—only multiply that tenfold. Hell, having known the man for at least ten years, Leyton didn’t even know if Dane had any siblings or not.

With a couple of grunts of acknowledgment, Leyton and Rock made their way into the dimly lit dining room, where the others were already seated, fancy place settings lining the impressive table—handmade from aged Mexican kiln-dried pinewood—in front of each of them. Walter Smythe, the elderly man who managed the house and did most of the cooking, waltzed by after placing a platter of food—salsa chicken from what he could tell—in the center of the table.

“Sorry I’m late,” Leyton said, forcing a smile as sixteen pairs of eyes all regarded him.

His gaze instantly homed in on one Adorite in particular. Ashlynn.

The first thing he noticed was that she’d lightened her usually dark hair; the ends were now a shimmering gold while the roots remained dark. As though the woman could get any more beautiful than she already was, she still caused his heart to miss a beat every time he looked at her. The seductive grin she shot him had his blood pressure spiking and his dick taking immediate notice. As usual, he ignored his dick, pulling his attention back to the others.

“Problems?” Max inquired from his position at the head of the table.

“No,” Leyton answered simply. Not yet, anyway.

“Good.”

Dinner with the Adorites had become a weekly ritual, one enthusiastically enforced by Max’s wife, Courtney, and backed by her husband. As it turned out, the newest member of the Adorite clan was as much about family as Max was. Despite the fact Courtney had married Max and put a slight rift between her and her own family—the owners of the elite security company, Sniper 1 Security—she still spent one night a week at her parents’ house, with Max in tow, and one night a week making sure the Adorites gathered together.

It was working out well.

Sort of.

As long as Leyton didn’t look at Ashlynn or find himself in close quarters with her or Jase Malone, Ashlynn’s right hand, he was fine. That was getting more and more difficult, because Ashlynn and Jase were taunting him. Or so it seemed.

“Where’s Mom?” Brent asked, his elbows resting on the table, Stetson dangling from the chair post behind him.

“She’s comin’,” Max replied easily. “When Dane went to get her, she was on the phone with the realtor.”

“Did she get a contract on the house?” Brent inquired.

Max nodded.

“Thank God,” Madison, the youngest Adorite, said. “I thought it would never sell. Did she get asking price?”

“More,” Genevieve Adorite said as she stepped into the room. “The offer is for almost double.”

Genevieve—known to most people as Genny—was an attractive woman. At fifty-five, the hard years she’d spent with a ruthless, brutal man were evident on her face. Far thinner than she should’ve been, Genny seemed to be battling her way back from a deep, painful depression. She rarely joined them for the family dinners, but Leyton knew Max had been encouraging her. And when Max asked for something, most people couldn’t tell him no, not even his own mother.

“Holy fuck,” Brent said with a whistle.

“I’m tellin’ you,” Aidan’s gravel-laced voice filled the space, “someone’s gonna turn that place into a mob museum.”

“More power to ’em,” Genevieve added with a strained chuckle. Leyton noticed she never did look anyone directly in the eye.

Since Samuel Adorite’s death a couple of months ago, Genevieve had moved out of the house where all five of her children had been raised—not necessarily by her—and had bought a place of her own. Oddly, the woman who’d spent years drowning her pain in booze and sex, ignoring the life she hadn’t wanted in the first place, was recovering nicely. Turned out, Samuel hadn’t been particular about who he had abused. His wife, his children, the hired help, the family dog … they’d all been fair game. Now that he was gone, things had actually gotten better. Considering.

“If they’re stupid enough,” Brent tacked on, “then I say go for it. I’m just glad we’re rid of that damn place.”

“The sale still has to go through,” Max noted.

“It will,” Brent assured his brother.

Leyton watched Brent, noticing his easy smile. Brent—twenty-seven and only now starting to take a real interest in the family business—was the most laid-back Adorite, aside from possibly Max’s youngest sister, Madison. When everyone else was talking business, those two usually attempted to derail the conversation, which explained the current topic. Not that Leyton blamed either of them. These days, business seemed to be the only thing they had to talk about.

Apparently, the dominoes had been tipped after Max’s mother had shot and killed Max’s father during a standoff back in July, followed by Max marrying the enemy—the daughter of a family who spent their days bringing down the bad guys. Those two events had ruffled some major feathers with the people they did business with. Granted, Max was dealing with the issues by doing what he always did—brushing them off. He didn’t force anyone to do business with him, but there were a lot of people indebted to the Adorites. Now that Samuel was dead and Max had taken over the organization, people were learning rather quickly that they only got one chance. Samuel had been volatile, and although he’d been ruthlessly cruel to anyone and everyone he came in contact with, he had enjoyed toying with people. Unlike his father, Max didn’t play games. Ever.

With the lull in conversation, Leyton turned to Max. “I’m meetin’ Tony at the warehouse on Friday,” Leyton said as he took a seat next to Brent after holding a chair out for Genevieve. “You wanna come along?”

Max held his gaze and nodded once. “We need to talk about a coupla things. After dinner.”

Leyton nodded in return. If Max felt it necessary to intervene, then things had gone too far. How well that spoke for Leyton’s ability to do his job, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to question it, either. He was still learning the ropes, after all.

“How’s the leg?” Ashlynn asked Leyton.

As much as he would’ve preferred not to look at her, that wasn’t possible when she was speaking directly to him. If he didn’t want Max to become suspicious, thinking that Leyton had a thing for Ashlynn—which admittedly he did, even though he shouldn’t—then he had to pretend that she didn’t affect him.

At all.

Not a fucking easy task when he’d been drawn to the woman for damn near half his life.

“Better.” Doing his best not to stare too long, Leyton couldn’t help but admire how fucking beautiful Ashlynn was. All that long, silky hair and those sparkling hazel eyes combined with a centerfold body and a sexy mean streak, she’d been the object of his many erotic fantasies for years.

“You were lucky,” Ashlynn told him, her eyes glittering as she stared back at him. “That asshole was tryin’ to kill you.”