It was becoming evident that Andrea was avoiding me. She hadn't shown up at the gym the next morning, nor did she come downstairs until after I'd left with Michael.

That evening, we were scheduled for our monthly family dinner at a restaurant we always went to. It was a tradition, and I knew I would have to confront her. Or perhaps, I could ask Gabrielle to do it for me. But as soon as Gabrielle came to mind, so did the image of the bruise on his face. He's part of the mafia. Why had I overreacted like that? I was so convinced she was a spy-still am, actually-that I couldn't think clearly.

That night, I went up to our room to find it empty. I searched the gym, the library-everywhere I thought she might be-but she was nowhere to be found. Finally, I discovered her in the recording studio with Christina. Andrea had a guitar in her hands and was softly singing something I couldn't quite make out. I knocked on the door. Christina looked up first, her eyes piercing mine with a sharp, almost threatening glare.

Andrea barely glanced at me, her expression one of irritation, like I was some annoying fly that she wished would just go away. She didn't even bother opening the door herself-Christina did.

"What do you want?" she snapped, her glare unwavering. It felt as if she'd dispose of me without a second thought if she were armed.

Before I could respond, Michael appeared behind me. He stepped forward, speaking calmly as if nothing were amiss. "Once a month, we all go to this restaurant as a family. It's a small, secluded place, but the food is incredible. Since you're both family now, I expect you to be ready by eight."

Christina's glare shifted to Michael, sharp enough to cut glass. "What happened to your so-called communication skills? I had to hear everything that went down last night from Andrea. Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, voice low and angry. I had never seen her so livid. It was clear she was just as protective of Andrea as the other way round. A quality I couldn't help but respect.

Michael stepped closer, his tone dropping to a soft murmur as he spoke. "Believe it or not, little deer, I was a bit preoccupied," he murmured, placing two firm but gentle kisses on her lips.

Christina tried to keep up her glare, but her face flushed a deep crimson. My gaze flickered to Andrea. She had been watching them, a faint smirk playing on her lips. But as soon as she caught me looking, the smirk vanished, replaced by a guarded expression.

Guilt settled heavily in my stomach. I turned and walked away, too stubborn to apologize even though I knew I should. The throbbing pain between my legs from where she'd kicked me last night was a reminder of why. God, if any of my men had seen that, they'd never let me live it down, let alone respect me as the next leader.

By eight, both sisters were ready. Andrea wore a stunning red dress, short but elegant, paired with stylish boots. The color made her eyes seem brighter, more intense. Her golden hair was left completely loose, cascading down her back in soft waves. Her makeup was minimal, enhancing her natural beauty. Christina, on the other hand, opted for a light blue dress and had her hair partially up in a bun. They both looked radiant.

I held out my hand for Andrea, but she promptly ignored it and marched to the car. Michael shot me an amused look. Of course, she'd snub me. She was only here because Christina had asked her to come.

The car ride was long and quiet-at least for me. Andrea chatted animatedly with Gabrielle and Christina in the backseat, pointedly excluding me from the conversation. When we finally arrived at the restaurant, she took my arm for the sake of appearances, but let go the moment we reached our table. She sat next to me, Michael across, never looking my way. Gabrielle positioned himself on my left.

Christina and Andrea perused the menu, their eyes bright with curiosity since it was their first time here. Once they'd decided, we placed our orders. The restaurant was mostly quiet, a few families and solitary diners scattered about, but it was peaceful.

When the food arrived, the silence between us became almost stifling. No one spoke. The tension was palpable. Michael's left hand disappeared under the table, no doubt resting protectively on Christina's knee.

Minutes passed uneventfully until Andrea picked up the napkin beneath her plate. A small piece of paper slipped out, fluttering onto the table. She unfolded it, her eyes scanning the words.

The fork clattered loudly from her hand, jolting everyone's attention to her. Her face was ashen, her expression frozen in terror.

I reached across and snatched the note from her trembling fingers, the sudden movement snapping her back to reality. She quickly masked her fear, but it was too late. Everyone at the table had seen her reaction.

The note read:

I've finally found you, my little disobedient kitten.

-- Love, S.R.

Fucking hell! Who was this?