“He came here?” The words come out too sharp. I force myself to keep my body still while rage coils hot and vicious in my gut.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I was drunk the other night, and I swear I saw someone across the road. It was super late. And in this area, you never get people wandering around. I don’t want to spiral and start feeling unsafe.”
She smiles then, but in recent years, her smile has changed. And it guts me.
I step toward her without thinking, impulse pulling me closer. I stop just short of touching her.
“You’ll always be safe.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Not a promise I should make. Not one I have any right to.
She blinks, and something shifts. Then she steps back.
“I’m going to make some breakfast. Do you want any?”
I smile beneath the mask. “No, thank you.”
As I install the final camera, my thoughts spiral. Lily isn’t stupid. Drunk or not, if she sensed someone, she sensed someone. Her instincts are sharper than she realizes.
I need to get out of here. Get back to my surveillance. Now that Declan knows about my side task, I can pull the twins in. Charlotte, too, if needed.
No one touches her. No one watches her without me knowing. Yet that guilt still sits heavy in my chest. Because every feed will be linked to my system, too. And I won’t be able to stop myself from watching her.
She fascinates me. Like a drug I can only get from afar, but I still need to be able to function.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lily
I stay where I am, leaning against the doorway, pretending I’m just watching him work.
I’m not.
I’m watching the way his shoulders flex when he drills. The controlled power in every movement. The way he moves is like he already knows the space, and he belongs here like this house isn’t empty when he’s in it.
He tightens the last screw and straightens, rolling his shoulder once. When he turns, our eyes collide, and it feels like standing too close to a ledge.
“So,” I say lightly, even though my heart is hammering, “Do I tip you? Or is intimidating silence included in the service?”
His eyebrow twitches. Barely. “Cameras are up,” he says.
I step closer anyway. One step. Careful. Not touching. Just inside his space.
His gaze drops. Not to my mouth. Not to my body. To the floor between us. I want him to actually look at me. I want him to see me, and I don’t know why. But I really do.
“You know,” I murmur, stopping a foot away, “most men flirt when they’re in a woman’s house this long.”
“You shouldn’t flirt with strangers,” he says flatly.
There’s no judgment in it, just a warning in his tone.
I laugh softly. “You’re hardly a stranger. You’ve been in my house all morning.”
What the hell am I saying? This is not me.
“That doesn’t make it smart.” His eyes drop again. To my hands this time. “And most men are idiots.”
That makes me smile. I hate that it does.
I tilt my head. “You don’t seem like one.”
