He watches me, and something about the way he says it tells me there’s more. Kaden treats Flynn like a brother, not a boss. The way he moves around him, watches for him, it’s deeper than duty.
Interesting. I can’t wait to dig more into this; it’s not like I have anything else to do right now.
He opens a door. It’s another office.
Photos of Kaden line the wall, him in uniform, black hair shaved tighter than now, shorter on top. His piercing green eyes stare from the distance. There are medals and a diploma.
His office is similar to Flynn’s with a big desk, computer, archives, but Kaden has a wall full of screens showing the entire estate. Cameras in the halls, kitchen, living room.
“Well. There’s literally no privacy in this place, is there?” I eye the monitors.
“The bathrooms and bedrooms don’t have cameras.” He looks at me, and I try not to show the thought that just hit me.
“But they will if someone fucks up,” he warns.
I grin. Of course.
He turns on the computer, and I sit across from him.
“So, how old are you?” I try to sound casual, but I’m just nosy.
“Same as Flynn.” He types without looking up. “Thirty-six.”
Thirty-six? I thought Flynn was younger. That means Declan’s the same age too. Kian and Connor must be younger.
“Do you want my zodiac too?” Kaden asks, one brow raised.
“Yes, please.” I smile wide.
He lets out a real laugh this time. “Christ, Autumn.” He turns the screen so I can see. “What do you need?”
I just stare.
“What?” he says.
“Your zodiac.” I shrug.
“Bloody hell.” He shakes his head but keeps smiling. “Libra. And Flynn’s a Scorpio.”
“That explains a lot,” I murmur.
Kaden exhales like he’s regretting even starting the conversation. “Autumn, focus, darling. What do you need?”
I finally glance at the screen. Some type of clothing site, but I don’t recognise the brand.
“Jeans, some sweaters, a couple skirts…” I trail off, trying not to mention underwear.
He starts clicking. Items pop up fast. I frown and then see the prices.
“Fuck me.” The words slip out. I slap a hand over my mouth.
Kaden blinks. “What?” He looks at me, then at the screen.
“A sweater is four hundred?” I shake my head. “And it’s ugly!”
“Fucking hell.” He gets up. I stare as he reaches into the drawer.
“Sit. Choose whatever damn site you want, and—” He drops ablack cardon the desk, Flynn’s name etched in gold. “Pay for it with this. When you’re done, bring it back to me in the living room.”
