“Violet? Did you hear me?” Dain asks, lifting a hand to cradle my face. Jerking my gaze to his, I nod and repeat, “Steer clear of Barlowe.” He drops his hand and shoves it into a pocket of his pants. “Hopefully he’ll forget all about his little vendetta against you.” “Do most men forget when a woman holds a knife to their balls?” I cock an eyebrow at him. “No.”
