“Thank you.”
Nearing footsteps drew his attention. The server approached, concern tightening her expression. “Is anything wrong with the food? You’ve hardly touched it.”
There was no way he could stomach the cheesecake now. He managed a polite smile. “Something’s come up. Would you bring the bill.”
“Of course, sir.” She gathered the plates and stepped away, leaving them alone again.
“I’ve spoiled the outing,” Suzette murmured.
“Not at all.” He wished he could do more than offer words. “I want to know everything there is to know about you, Suzette Bosch. I wish I could wave a wand and erase every hurt you’ve ever had to endure.”
She gave him a long, considering look. “You know … talking about it, admitting out loud what I’ve hidden for years, has helped. I feel less … burdened.”
Warmth unfurled in his chest. “I will always listen, sweet Suze. Nothing you say or feel is inconsequential to me.”
“That” — her swallow was audible, the sound tearing a fresh wound in him — “means a lot.”
“It’s the truth.” He lifted a hand to her face, cradling her jaw, his thumb tracing slow, soothing strokes along her cheek. “And I’m not an idiot. I hear the message beneath all of this. You don’t want to be second to my career.”
She held his gaze, soft and steady. “No,” she said quietly. “I don’t.”
There was no accusation in it, no heat. Simply the bare, unvarnished truth of a woman who had once lost herself in someone else’s calling and refused to make the same mistake twice. “And the thing is, Justin … what I feel for you …” She drew a slow breath. “It’s vastly different from what I felt for Braam.”
Something in him tightened — hope, fear,awe— he wasn’t sure. But before he could speak, her gaze flicked over his shoulder and her expression shuttered.
The server was back.
He swallowed a curse —of all the rotten timing— and forced his features into polite neutrality. He handled the bill, added a generous tip he barely registered, and rose to follow Suzette as she walked ahead in silence toward the car.
The moment hung unfinished between them, suspended like a held breath, all the way back to Paternoster.
13
Justin lugged the cloth shopping bags up to her apartment and set them on the kitchen counter where she pointed. He wanted to linger, especially after the heavy pieces of her past she’d trusted him with, but there were things he needed to take care of. And she had mentioned the long list of chores that would keep her busy the rest of the afternoon.
“You okay?” he asked, brushing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.
“I am. Thanks.” Her voice was as soft as his. “And … sorry about dumping my stuff on you earlier.”
“I’m not.” His thumb skimmed her cheek. “You trusted me with your hurts. That means a lot, sweetheart. If you want to talk more, call me. Anytime. Yeah?”
“Okay.” She rose onto her toes and pressed a light kiss to his lips.
He felt the pull to deepen it, to lose himself in her for just one more moment, but forced himself to step back, calling on every ounce of restraint he had.
The door clicked shut behind him, and Justin hurried down the stairs. At the bottom step, his security team lead stepped forward, posture alert.
“What happened?” Anders asked.
“I was recognized at the supermarket.” Justin kept walking as he relayed everything. The man with the phone, the rushed walk to the car, trying to keep an eye out for anyone following them, their stop at the cheesecake restaurant.
Anders muttered a few choice curses as the details came out. “Did you see him follow you out of the supermarket?”
Justin shook his head. “I was more focused on getting Suzette out of there. But the Honda was parked in full view of the store windows. If he snapped a picture of her car, it won’t take much to track her here.” His jaw tightened. “I need her protected.”
“I’ll contact Southern Cross Security,” Anders said. “Get additional personnel on-site.”
Their footsteps crunched on the gravel fronting the holiday home as they turned into the small yard.
