I bite the inside of my cheek, frustrated with the logic even as I understand it. Safety first has become our mantra. But it doesn't make this part feel any less like betrayal.
"What about your work?" Declan asks.
"I cancelled everything for the near future. No explanation given." I shrug. "They already think I'm a diva either way."
"Hey." Declan's hand, warm and solid, cups my cheek. "We're going to figure this out."
I lean into his touch, surprised at how natural it feels now. How quickly we've adapted to this new reality where touch is freely given and received.
Mateo appears in the doorway, his hair tousled from running his hands through it in frustration. He makes coffee for all of us, extending a cup to me while kissing me, his golden eyes warm despite the dark circles beneath them.
"You're a lifesaver," I murmur, accepting the mug and letting the rich aroma wash over me.
"Keeping you caffeinated is the least I can do, until I find whoever put that damn camera in your house." He winks, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze constantly flicks to the windows, the doors.
"Any luck with the camera?" Declan asks, transferring pancakes to a plate.
Mateo shakes his head. "Whoever set it up knew what they were doing." He takes a long swig of his own coffee. "But I'll crack it. Nobody's better than me."
The confidence in his voice is reassuring, even if it's partly bravado.
This should feel oppressive, being confined to the pool house, cut off from my life, my work. It's the same scenario that initially filled me with dread when Ethan first insisted on round-the-clock security. But somehow, it doesn't. Instead, there's a strange domesticity to it all that I find myselfcraving.
Declan cooking breakfast. Mateo bringing coffee. The easy way they move around each other, around me. Last night changed something fundamental between us, cementing a connection that had been building since the beginning.
"Lost in your thoughts?" Mateo asks, leaning against the counter beside me, his shoulder brushing mine.
"Just thinking how different this is," I admit. "Being here with all of you. It's not what I expected."
"Better or worse?" There's a vulnerability in his question that tugs at my heart.
"Better," I say softly. "Definitely better."
His smile is like the sun breaking through clouds.
The door opens, and we all tense until Ethan steps through, his expression grim but controlled. The shift in energy is immediate. Declan straightens, Mateo pushes off from the counter, both of them instinctively responding to Ethan's presence. The leader has returned.
"Perimeter's clear," Ethan reports, his eyes softening fractionally when they land on me. "No signs of disturbance overnight."
"Good," Declan says, returning to his cooking.
Ethan shrugs off his jacket, revealing the gun holstered beneath. It's a stark reminder of the danger lurking beyond our little bubble.
"Mail came," he says, placing a small stack of envelopes on the counter. "I checked it. Nothing suspicious."
"You checked my mail?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Yes." He doesn't apologize, doesn't explain. Just that single, unapologetic affirmative.
I should be annoyed at the invasion of privacy, but the concern behind it is too evident to ignore. These men are putting themselves between me and danger without hesitation.
"There's something from your lawyers," Ethan adds, pulling out a thick cream-colored envelope and handing it to me. "Looked important."
Quarterly statements, probably. Or updates on pending contracts. Nothing urgent, but a reminder of the real world continuing to turn outside our sanctuary.
I set my coffee down and break the seal, pulling out the contents. Official letterhead, dense text, and...
One sentence in, and my pulse stops. Two more, and my world ends. Quietly. Without fanfare. Just ink on paper slicing through everything I've built.
