As the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, brushing pale gold across the room, he stood, rolling his shoulders, eyes scanning once more. The caution was habitual and precise. Nodisturbances. No watchers in the street. No telltale signs of surveillance inside.
Behind him, Elise stirred. He heard the shift of sheets, the soft sound of her sigh as she turned over. Awake, but not ready to admit it yet.
“You’ll wear a hole in the carpet if you keep pacing,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the pillow.
Blake glanced over his shoulder, one corner of his mouth twitching. “Good morning to you, too.”
Her eyes cracked open, green and sharp, even with sleep still clinging to them. “You’re still here.”
“I said I would be.”
She pushed herself upright, hair mussed, expression unimpressed. “Most men don’t mean it when they say things like that.”
“I’m not most men.”
She studied him then, as though testing the edges of that statement, weighing whether to push back or let it stand. He met her gaze steadily, refusing to flinch under the scrutiny.
Finally, she huffed, reaching for the stack of papers on the desk beside the bed. “Fine. If you’re so determined to play watchdog, you’d better keep up. Because today I’m getting into the Antwerp shipping manifests. And if I’m right, Zajac’s halo is going to start slipping.”
Blake suppressed the urge to curse. She wasn’t slowing down.
But he’d damn well try.
Elise threw the covers back with a sigh, padding across the room toward her suitcase. Blake turned away out of habit, giving her the privacy she probably expected, but he didn’t miss the roll of her eyes in the reflection of the window.
“You know,” she said, rummaging through her bag, “most women would be horrified to find a man watching them sleep.”
“I wasn’t watching,” he replied evenly.
“Oh, right. You were … what? Meditating with your eyes open? Cataloging threats only you can see?” She tugged a blouse free from the suitcase, shaking it out.
“Something like that.”
Glancing over her shoulder at him, her sharp green eyes narrowed at him. “You really don’t give much away, do you?”
“Not in my job description.”
“And what is your job description, exactly?” she pressed. “Besides looming in hotel rooms and correcting people’s assumptions?”
He let the corner of his mouth twitch, just enough to count as a smile. “Keeping you alive, apparently.”
She snorted before retreating into the bathroom. The sound of water running filled the room, followed by the rustle of fabric. Blake used the time to recheck the locks, the hall, the street below. He clicked his earpiece off mute.
“Good morning, Blake,” his aunt said over the comms. “I hear you’ve become a personal security officer. Why the career change?”
The water was running, so he didn’t fear Elise hearing him. “The orders were to scare her off and keep her alive. She isn’t the type to scare. Think Aunt Jade.”
“Oh, gotcha.” His aunt chuckled. “So, you’re basically holding on for dear life and wondering where the ride stops.”
“Exactly.” He had greater respect for his Uncle Nic now. God only knew how he’d dealt with such a strong-minded woman for all those years.
“Nic’s a saint,” Jewell said as if reading his mind. “So, she’s digging again?”
“Yep.”
Jewell sighed. “All right, I’ll keep her out of the line of fire. What did Étienne know that we don’t?”
“I’m not sure … yet. You’ll hear in real time today. If you have specific questions, let me know, and I’ll relay them.”
