Releasing her, he started to leave the room. "I'll make us something to eat." Before she could stop him, he was gone, leaving her standing there and staring after him.
She was yet to get used to it. The fact that someone loved her enough to put her needs above their own. She had become so accustomed to taking care of herself after her father died and living without an ounce of affection, that it took some getting used to. And it humbled her. It really did.
She was skittish at how much he loved her but was warmed by it. It was up to her to show her appreciation.
He felt her presence rather than heard when she got to the arched doorway of the large stark black and white kitchen.
"I made boiled eggs and wheat toast. You mentioned the other day that orange juice grated on your stomach." He did not turn from what he was doing. "I asked the housekeeper to squeeze some oranges instead."
"I'm sorry."
"Have a seat."
Ignoring that, she went for his weakness. Walking into the room, she went behind him to wrap her arms around his waist, hands creeping up his chest. She felt when his muscles flexed, his heartrate increasing.
"I will be careful, I promise. It's not only me I have to think about, but also our two babies as well. I will abide by the rules until this maniac is caught."
Oscar let out a shaky breath, his shoulders easing just a fraction as her words sank in. For the first time that morning, a tentative peace settled between them, fragile but real. He finished plating the breakfast in silence, then turned to face her. "I can't lose you."
"You won't." She promised. "You won't."
"Good." Scooping her into his arms, he held her against him, just breathing her in.
"I had no idea there were this many people here last night." Margo exclaimed as she continued watching the camera feed in the office. She had just hung up from her husband who had woke up to find her gone, much to his annoyance.
"Hubby getting edgy, is he?" Amused, Eric sat on the edge of the desk.
"The idiot claims he cannot sleep without me next to him. Turns out it's the same for me." Margo was still embarrassed about this love business. She was in her early fifties before she found love, and it still managed to stagger her.
"It must be wonderful to have someone who cares about you that much." He wanted to give into the low grade need for a smoke but resisted.
"It's a pain in the ass, but yes, it's a great feeling." Leaning closer to the monitor, she frowned. "Someone entered the inner sanctum. This guy here." She tapped on the monitor and Eric leaned over. "Ah yes. Idiot says he was looking for the john. I told him to get lost."
"He looks nondescript. Someone you would pass on the street or even in the room and never notice."
Eric's eyes sharpened. "You think it's him?"
"He looks like a librarian."
"Not so. There was a librarian in this little library in Kinsale. Older woman, sexy as hell, used to wear these tight skirts and tops straining against the most impressive racks." He made a motion with his hands several inches from his chest to demonstrate. "Had the boys taking up reading a hell of a lot. I was sixteen and was in love."
"You're a sick man, Eric."
"I'm a man who appreciates beauty of any age." He corrected with a grin. "This guy." He studied the man intently. "He looks harmless."
"They mostly do. I'm going to check him out."
"This business is creating a lot of tension between Oscar and Kiara."
"Cannot be good for the babies she's carrying. The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better."
People underestimated him all the time. And he let them. He was smart as a whip. Had to be in order to make up for the fact that he was plain. He had in hindsight lied on his application by giving a false address. No one knew where he really lived and it helped that the house was fairly isolated.
And he had started working from home. The excuse of taking care of his sick mother had the bosses showing empathy. And since he was one of their best employees, he received a certain leeway.
He had expected to be checked into, since he had made the mistake of venturing upstairs. And he had left the note. He considered that a mistake, but something had to be said. What they had been going on with on the dance floor was a mistake.
His phone buzzed silently, a soft vibration against the kitchen counter. He ignored it for a moment, eyes lingering on the faded wallpaper as he replayed the previous night in his mind. Every detail mattered now. He had always counted on being overlooked; he slipped through cracks in the crowd with practiced ease.
