Diego is at the stove, stirring something that smells absolutely divine. Tristan is setting plates on the island, whistling tunelessly. Dane is at the counter, his movements almost hypnotic, the blade of his knife hitting the cutting board with a steady, rhythmic thump-thump-thump. Beside him, Rett is opening a bottle of wine; a smooth twist of his wrist and the cork slides out with a barely audible, deeply satisfying sigh.
They move around each other, anticipating each other’s movements without a word. It’s like watching a well-choreographed dance, and I feel like an intruder standing on the edge of the stage.
Tristan spots me first. “Zoe!” he announces, setting down the last plate. “Just in time. Diego’s making his famous midnight pasta.”
“It’s not famous,” Diego says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s just pasta aglio e olio. Simple and fast.”
“And delicious,” Tristan adds. “Trust me, this will change your life.”
I hover at the edge of the kitchen, unsure where to place myself in this well-established routine. “Can I help with anything?”
“Just sit,” Rett says, gesturing to one of the stools at the island. “You’ve had a long night.”
I just nod, my mind still a chaotic buzz of shattered glass and spray paint. The entire situation feels surreal, like I’m watching a movie of someone else’s life. I perch on the stool, watching as Diego adds pasta to a pot of boiling water with a graceful flick of his wrist.
“Wine?” Rett offers, holding up a glass.
I hesitate, remembering what happened the last time I drank around these four. “Just a little,” I say finally. “It’s been a day.”
He pours a modest amount into a glass and slides it toward me. Our fingers brush as I take it, and a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. I pull back quickly, nearly sloshing the wine over the rim. I see his own hand jerk back a fraction of an inch.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, though whether he’s apologizing for the touch or for his reaction to it, I’m not sure.
“It’s fine,” I say, and immediately take a sip of wine, needing something to do with my hands, my mouth, anything to distract from the way he’s looking at me. The taste is so smooth and velvety, it almost makes me sigh. It’s the kind of wine that makes you understand why people write poems about it.
An awkward silence falls over the kitchen, broken only by the sound of Diego’s cooking and the rhythmic chopping of Dane’s knife.
“So,” Tristan says finally, leaning against the counter opposite me. “How does it feel to be back in the Sterling lair?”
I narrow my eyes at him over my wine glass. “Temporary housing arrangement,” I correct. “And it feels... surreal.”
“Good surreal or bad surreal?” he presses, dimple appearing as he grins.
“Just surreal,” I say firmly. “Like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life.”
Dane grunts in what might be agreement or just acknowledgment. He slides the garlic and parsley he’d been chopping over to Diego, who adds them to a sizzling pan. The aroma intensifies, making my mouth water.
“Helen called while you were getting settled,” Rett says. His words make me frown a little. Helen called him directly instead of ringing me? Oh, right, yes. She saw the claiming marks. Probably assumes everything’s done and dusted, and I belong to the Sterlings now.
I push back the thought. “Any news?”
“They’ve finished processing the scene. Insurance adjusters will be there tomorrow morning.”
My stomach tightens at the reminder of why I’m here. “Did they find anything? Any leads?”
“Nothing concrete yet.” He shakes his head. “But Dane’s contacts are reviewing the building’s external cameras. They might have caught something the gallery’s system missed.”
“Dane’s contacts?” I repeat, looking at the quiet alpha.
“After my stint in the army, I worked in private security,” Dane explains.
“Before you guys formed Sterling Solutions?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Mmm,” he confirms with a nod. Not exactly a detailed career history, but it’s something.
“Food’s ready,” Diego announces, draining the pasta with expert hands. He works quickly, plating five generous portions.
Rett slides a placemat in front of me on the smooth marble, followed by a fork and a linen napkin. Dane sets a glass of water down beside it.
