“I do trust you, Kayden. I’ve told you that.”

“There’s a whole lot more to trust than words.”

I curl my fingers around his jaw. “You’ll teach me, right?”

His eyes light with approval. “Yes, I’ll teach you, but I’m starting to think I have some things to learn from you, too.” He cups my hand and kisses it. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

“Isn’t it close to lunch?”

He glances at his watch, and damn it, it stirs that odd, familiar feeling I don’t understand. “Eleven thirty,” he informs me. “We’ll call it brunch. Give me a second.” He releases me and I lean on the desk while he returns his attention to his keyboard, typing in a reply to whomever he’s chatting with, and stands. “Done. Now we eat.”

“Any news on Enzo?”

“Nothing yet, but that was one of my men in Milan, where Enzo was last known to be. He’s digging around.”

“How many Hunters do you have reporting to you?”

“Fifty across Rome and France.”

“I thought you only ran Rome.”

“I recently took over France as well.”

“Please tell me it’s not because the prior Hawk, or whatever you call the leaders, is dead.”

“We do call them Hawks, and no. He’s not dead. He moved to another country, like my father did when Kevin took over Rome years before I was born.”

“Has any Hawk from any country died?”

“Sweetheart.” He wraps me in his arms. “Don’t do this.”

“I can’t start needing you and then you go and die on me.”

“The feeling is mutual. Neither of us is going anywhere but to the kitchen to get pancakes. Okay?”

“I’d make you promise, but I know it’s not a promise you can keep.”

He strokes the hair from my face and tilts my head back. “I promise,” he says, his words absolute steel, as if his sheer will can make it so when we both know that isn’t true. “And I don’t make a promise I don’t intend to keep.”

His computer buzzes with a different sound than before and he gives me a quick kiss. “We’re going to be okay,” he assures me, sitting back down at the desk to check his screen. I step closer, and the very fact that we fear for his Hunter’s life tells me any version of “okay” with Kayden is still dangerous, and yet he’s somehow, illogically, safe. I don’t know what to do with that piece of information.

“News?” I ask, as he keys in a message and stands once more.

“Unfortunately, no. It’s just someone wanting to talk to me about a job. They can wait.”

“A Hunter or a client?”

“A client.” He picks up a large notebook from the desk. “This contains pictures of every person we know who works for Niccolo.”

“Why do you have that?”

“Money is a common denominator between Hunters and mobsters, and I try to steer our paths in different directions. That requires knowledge and effort.”

And there it is. The answer I realize I’d still desperately wanted. Or at least part of it. “Have you met Niccolo?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” When I would ask more, he changes the subject. “I figured you can look over the photos while we eat, and then we can try and forget all of this for the rest of the day.”

I draw in a heavy breath and exhale on an admission: “I really hate the idea of those photos when I should be embracing them for the answer they could hold.”

He caresses a lock of hair behind my ear. “We can wait until morning, if you prefer.”

The touch is tender, and I wonder what it says about me that the combination of the gentleness in this man and the dirty, dark danger that is also him is so very alluring. But what isn’t alluring is running, hiding, and dying. I take the notebook from him.

“I want to get this over with,” I say, unsure of why I am so certain this book holds a secret I’m not ready to reveal.

nineteen

Kayden and I leave his room to head to breakfast, and the memory of me running down the hall in a towel manages to take precedence over the photos in my hand. “Marabella is going to embarrass me, isn’t she?” I ask as we reach the entryway to the living area.

“Oh yeah,” he confirms, amusement in his voice, his lips quirking in a near smile.

We cross to the kitchen and I glower fiercely at him. “You think it’s funny.”

He grins. “Guilty as charged.”

“It’s not funny,” I chide. “It’s embarrassing. I’m not hungry anymore.”

I try to turn away but he snags my waist, kisses my temple, and before I can steel myself for the impact, walks me in front of him and through the kitchen entry. “Ciao, you two,” Marabella greets us from behind the island, her ear-to-ear grin instant. “Have you worked up an appetite?”

I groan and cover my face and Kayden chuckles, sounding way too sexy for how infuriating his amusement is becoming. It’s made worse as he says, “Why yes, we have. In fact, make my pancakes a double stack, please.”

I sink into a chair at the table and set down the notebook, dragging my journal and the file I’d left behind last night to join it. “Can you put booze in my coffee, please?” I plead, while Kayden sits down next to me and taps the notebook, obviously eager for me to take a look. I grimace and add, “Make that a double shot, not stack, for me.”

Marabella giggles like a schoolgirl and delivers two cappuccinos to the table, a cute apron decorated with patches of strawberries covering her knee-length dress. “No booze for you,” she tells me. “Kayden doesn’t keep any in the castle.”

She hurries away and I ignore the notebook to pick up my cup. “You’re more of a control freak than I realized.”

“I’m hopeful that comment comes with a good memory of last night.”

My cheeks heat with the replay of his words in that shower. I will lick you. Bite you. Pinch you. Spank you.

He leans closer. “What are you thinking, Ella?”

“I was just thinking—”

“Right now. What are you thinking right now?”

I swallow hard. “I plead the Fifth.”

His lips quirk and he leans back in his chair. “That’s no fun.”

He’s playful and funny, and enjoys teasing me way too much, but I like this part of him too much to mind. “You don’t drink because it creates a lack of control you don’t like.”

He lifts the cup, his eyes lighting with wicked heat. “Control is much more alluring than the other options. Don’t you think?”

“Hmmm. I don’t think I’d know, but maybe I’ll give it a go.”

“You can try.”

I set my cup down, the delicious scent of pancakes cooking filling the air. “I will.”

“Looking forward to that battle of wills,” he assures me, tapping the notebook. “Let’s get this over with and go get naked again.”

I inhale a sharp breath, ready to do anything other than look at those photos, including broach the awkward subject of David. “I need to talk about something else first.”

“I’m listening.”

“David.”

“David,” he repeats, the name a blade sliding through the air. “The infamous fiancé.”

“Kayden—”

“Tell me.”

“He gave me a necklace. It was a large butterfly, and I found a handwritten note inside it.”

He goes very still, the lines of his face sharpening with his tone. “What did that note say, Ella?”

Unease flits through me. “I don’t remember. It could have been a silly love note.”

“You claim to just ‘know’ things. Is that what you think it was?”

“No. No, I do not.” He studies me with hooded eyes, his lashes hiding his gaze from my prying eyes, and I can’t take his silence. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Because I don’t like what I have to say.”

My fingers curl into my palms. “Just say it, please.”

“I think you were what is called a ‘carrier.’ ”

“I don’t like how that sounds.”

“For good reason. A carrier is an innocent person who’s targeted to transport items from one country to the next.”