Take a Hint, Dani Brown (The Brown Sisters #2)(85)

Dani’s attempt at an acerbic response was cut off by her older sister. “Redford,” Chloe said imperiously, phone pressed to her ear, “if you have any dodgy friends who might be persuaded to dump someone in the River Trent, gather them now and tell them I pay very well.”

Dani tried to laugh, but it came out as a choked squeak, accompanied by a bubble of snot.

“Oh, darling.” Eve shuddered, passing her another lavender-scented tissue. “What an atrophied state of affairs.”

“It’s fine,” Dani insisted, after blowing her nose. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” She’d tried, and she’d failed, but that was to be expected, so why should it hurt? It shouldn’t. And neither should the knowledge that Zaf had deluded himself into loving her, because it wasn’t as if she loved him. She’d simply been high on Inez Holly’s approval and had made some shoddy decisions last night. This morning’s events had been a warning shot from the universe, a reminder of who Dani was and the lessons she’d learned about attempting romance. That was all. That was all.

She opened her mouth to explain as much in a clear and calm manner, but all that came out was another ear-splitting wail.

Oops.

“When I picked her up,” Sorcha said grimly, “she was essentially unintelligible, but I did hear Zaf.”

“That’s why I’m calling instead of texting,” Chloe was saying patiently into her mobile. “No paper trail. I see no reason for your line to be bugged, so this is a fine method of arranging a man’s imminent death.”

“Chloe, honestly,” Dani managed, “Zaf hasn’t done—”

“Little sisters should be seen and not heard,” Chloe said grimly, before her concentration went back to the phone. “I’m not implying anything, darling, I’m just saying that you’re a very resourceful man who might possibly know other resourceful men, especially since artists are known to have an excess of feeling. Yes. Yes. Well, of course I don’t want you to go to prison; I wasn’t suggesting you get caught. No. I’ll ask her. Danika, would you like orange chocolate or dark?”

“Both,” Danika said glumly.

“Same for me,” Eve piped up.

“And me.” That was Sorcha.

“We’ll all have both. Oh, stop moaning, our teeth have survived this long. Good-bye. I love you, too.”

Dani’s stomach lurched, a stab of pain flaring behind her ribs. I love you, Zafir had said. I love you as you are. It had sounded so wonderful, coming from that beautiful mouth in that slow, familiar voice, and she’d wanted it so badly she’d felt dizzy. But she couldn’t—she just couldn’t—

Why would he say that? Why would he say that to her, and make everything so much more impossible? She was only just coming to grips with the fact that they could be together properly, that she might not fuck that up, and he expected her to believe he’d somehow fallen head over heels within five minutes?

Yes. He expected you to believe him, because he never lies. And because being a romantic doesn’t make him a fool.

But he must’ve been mistaken. He must have been, because Dani hadn’t even tried to be lovable. Except . . .

Except he’d sort of told her that she didn’t need to try. Which, now she could breathe again, and think without the weight of his entire life’s hopes and dreams crushing her, did sound quite reasonable and very Zafir-like.

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

The tears started again.

“Good Lord,” Chloe said, putting the phone down. “You really must tell us what’s happened, Danika, or I might be moved to call Gigi.”

“I think—I think Zaf loves me,” Dani wailed.

There was a moment of silence before Sorcha piped up cautiously, “Oh . . . no?”

“But I didn’t—he shouldn’t,” Dani sobbed. “Or he couldn’t! Except he does really seem to like me, and he’s inhumanly wonderful, so perhaps he could, and if he did, I’ve just ruined everything.”

“Sorry, don’t let me throw you,” Eve said, “I’d just like to check before we go any further. Are you telling me that your fake boyfriend, who you have, obviously, been sleeping with—”

“Bravo, by the way,” Chloe interjected.

“—told you he loved you, and you decided, for some reason, that he’d . . . made it up?”

“Yes,” Dani managed in a very small voice.

“And what,” Eve asked delicately, “did you say to him in return?”

“I said . . . I said we’d made a mistake.”

“Oh sweet fucking Christ,” Sorcha muttered. “Baby Jesus in a manger, give me strength. Danika Brown, if I strangle you—”

“Don’t be angry with me,” Dani snapped. “It wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for this! All I asked for was a nice, goddess-mandated fuck buddy, and the signs led me to believe that I’d gotten one.”

“Oh, for shite’s sake, Dani!” Sorcha cried. “You know that’s not how signs and invocations work. You’re not supposed to use random happenings as an excuse to avoid dealing with what you really want. You’re supposed to pay attention to what resonates. You’re supposed to take a fucking hint!”