Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Her cheeks have turned rosy when I lift my head. "Um...thank you?"
If she gets any sweeter than this, she'll have me eating from her hand in no time.
"I should shower," she says finally, though she doesn't move away. "And find something to wear besides your robe."
"It suits you." The words escape before I can censor them.
A smile touches her lips, pleased and slightly shy. "Does it?"
"Yes." I allow my gaze to travel over her—the soft curve of her shoulder where the robe has slipped slightly, the delicate line of her collarbone, the flush still warming her cheeks. "But there are clothes for you in your room. Whatever you need."
She nods, taking a step back, breaking the spell of the moment. "I'll see you at breakfast, then?"
"Yes. I'll make coffee."
Another smile, this one brighter. "You seem to be good at everything."
"Not everything," I admit, thinking of all the ways I've failed, all the mistakes I've made. "But coffee, yes."
She laughs softly, the sound warming something in my chest. Then she turns, heading toward the east wing, my robe trailing slightly behind her like a queen's robe.
I watch her go, desire and something more complex tightening my chest. This is dangerous territory—this softening, this connection. It complicates an already complex situation, adds variables that can't be easily controlled.
And yet I find myself unwilling to retreat from it, to reestablish the professional distance that would be safer for us both.
In the kitchen, I prepare coffee with the same focused attention I bring to all tasks, finding comfort in the familiar ritual. When Kleah comes back, she's dressed in slim jeans and a soft sweater, her damp hair pulled back from her face. She looks younger like this, more vulnerable, though the quiet strength I've come to recognize is still evident in her posture.
"That smells amazing," she says, moving toward the coffee.
I pour her a cup, noting how she takes it—a touch of cream, no sugar. A small detail to add to the growing catalog of things I know about her.
"I need to leave for a while. But I'll only be gone for a few hours."
Unease crosses her features. "Is that safe?"
"The house is secure. You'll have a panic button—" I stop when I see her shaking her head.
"I'm worried about you."
Ah.
Right.
It's been a while since someone last worried about me. And the fact that it's Kleah who cares about my safety has my chest tightening anew.
"There's nothing to worry about," I say gruffly. "I'll be gone three hours, max. And when I get back, we'll set up your workspace."
"Are you trying to bribe me?"
"Only if it's working."
She walks me to the door. "Please be safe."
I'm stunned to see her fighting back tears, and before I can think better of it, I lean down and kiss her—a brief, gentle press of lips that nonetheless sends heat coursing through me.
"Trust me. I'll be back. I promise."
THE DRIVE TO THE SECONDARY location takes less time than expected, traffic light on the coastal roads. Sammy meets me in a nondescript warehouse, security tight but invisible to casual observation.
"Everything's here," he confirms, leading me to a storage room in the back. "The specialized tools were in a hidden compartment in her workspace, just as you suspected."
"Any further activity at the shop?"
"Nothing since last night. But they'll be back."
"I know." Valentina's people are persistent, if nothing else. "Continue surveillance. Inform me of any changes."
The box of Kleah's belongings is exactly as requested—her specialized tools for seal-making, personal items from her apartment, the wooden case of seals that seemed most important to her. I check each item personally, ensuring nothing is missing, nothing has been tampered with.
Sammy watches me with barely concealed curiosity. It's unusual for me to take such personal interest in these details, to oversee an operation this minor myself.
"She means something to you, huh?"
"She's under my protection, that's all." I sound defensive even to my ears.
She means something to you," he observes, his tone carefully neutral. "Beyond the arrangement."
"Whatever you say, boss."
I load the box myself back into the car, unwilling to delegate even this small task. Then, with final security instructions for Sammy, I begin the drive back to the safe house, to Kleah. I'm halfway back when my phone rings—the secure line, the one only my most trusted associates have access to.
"Bronzetti," I answer, immediately alert.
"We've got movement." It's Toole, another of my security team. "Two vehicles approaching the safe house perimeter. Still on the public road, but the pattern suggests reconnaissance."
My blood turns cold. "Description?"
"Black SUV, civilian plates. Dark sedan behind it, keeping distance. Professional."
"Time to intercept?"
"Seven minutes at your current speed."
"Inform the house security. Activate Protocol Seven."
"Already done. They're on high alert."
I increase speed, taking the coastal curves with precision born of years of practice. The box of Kleah's supplies shifts in the passenger seat, her tools rattling with each turn.