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She stirred when I lifted her but didn’t wake, only tucking her face closer against my neck.

I carried Isabella down the hall and put her to bed.

For the moment, there was nowhere else either of us needed to be.

Chapter thirty-seven

Iwoke slowly beneath a warm blanket in the dim light of a gray winter morning. For a few seconds, I had no idea where I was. Then I recognized the guest suite at Nik and Lacey’s penthouse.

The last thing I remembered from the night before was curling up against Lachlan on the sofa with his arm around me. After that, nothing.

I pushed myself upright and looked down at the outfit I’d changed into after we came back from the park.

Oh, no.

I’d fallen asleep on him.

Not after everyone had gone to bed or when the evening was winding down. Worse, I’d done it right there in the middle of the living room while everyone else was still talking.

Heat climbed into my face.

How incredibly rude.

Lachlan must have carried me in here, put me to bed, and covered me without waking me. I couldn’t remember any of it, which somehow made the embarrassment worse. I’d spent my first real evening with his friends and family, sleeping through the end of it like a child who had worn herself out playing in the snow.

I threw back the covers and hurried into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, ran my fingers through the worst of the tangles in my hair, and splashed cold water over my face.

I wanted to find Lachlan, apologize for falling asleep on him, and thank him for carrying me to bed. Maybe he’d found it funny instead of rude.

The penthouse was quiet when I stepped into the hall.

No one was in the living room or the kitchen. The remnants of last night’s gathering had already been cleared away, and the fire was out.

A fresh pot of coffee sat on the warming plate, and low voices carried from somewhere beyond the living room, although I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

I had just poured half a cup when Lachlan’s voice suddenly rose.

I set the coffee down without taking a sip.

“You did fucking what?”

The fury in his voice stopped me cold.

I’d heard Lachlan angry before—threatening men or giving orders in a voice so controlled no one questioned whether he expected to be obeyed. Even when he was hurt, furious, or surrounded by people trying to kill us, there was usually something deliberate beneath his anger.

There was nothing controlled about what he’d just shouted.

I followed the voices across the living room toward Nik’s glass-walled office. The door stood open, and from where I stopped in the hallway, I had an unobstructed view inside.

“Lower your voice,” Nik said.

“Don’t tell me to lower my voice. She asked you to investigate them, Nik. That was all.”

My stomach tightened.

There was only one them he could mean.

Nik had left his chair and stood near the end of the steel workstation, facing the doorway. Lachlan stood a few feet in front of him with his back angled toward me, tension running through his shoulders.