My fingers glide over the leather of his glove when I take the carton from him. Warm, and softer than I imagined. He moves back a step, retaining his stance, hands behind his back. I wonder if he notices that he does it, or if it’s just ingrained habit at this point?
“What have you found?” he asks me, turning the tables.
The satisfaction of being able to throw something in his face would be immense. If I in fact had anything to throw. “We’ve hit the same dead ends.” Even factoring in some of the government contacts we have, that I highly doubt Xavier has access to. Between the two of us, we have a wide reach, and that none of it has turned up anything is worrying. “Our next step is to speak to the florist.”
No point keeping that from him or Xavier. They’re not going to keep their noses out of this. The sooner I figure it out and dispose of the threat, the sooner they’ll go back to their corner.
“We already did that,” Miles says dismissively. “Xavier pays extra to ensure the owner themself puts it together, and it gets delivered by a separate courier employed by us. He knows to wait until you retrieve the flowers before leaving. There isn’t an opportunity to tamper with it at any step.”
“Except that they did,” I point out. Unless they’re lying to me, and it really was Xavier’s doing. If not, then something in their carefully planned-out steps went wrong this time.
Miles nods in agreement. “The courier is missing.That’sour next step.”
I don’t like how they continue to take over, and that they have more of the pieces in this mystery than I do. My team and I can handle this, and the last thing I need is for Xavier and his bodyguard to be involved, for a myriad of reasons.
“Why didn’t you keep me informed about any of this?”
“You’ll have to ask Xavier that.”
I don’t bother trying to control myself and roll my eyes at the statement. “Because you just take orders like a good dog?”
“Precisely.”
Turning away from him, I pull out a teaspoon from the drawer with jerky motions, irritated at his easy acquiescence. “Let me guess, you have yours black?” I ask sarcastically. I can’t see him putting sugar in anything. Perfectly disciplined. No give or softness.
He surprises me by answering with, “I’ll have it how you have it.”
“What if I have ten sugars and two shots of caramel in mine?” I’d do it just to see the look on his face when he takes his first sip.
“You don’t.”
The pure arrogance in the statement irks me. So sure of himself, so confident. I doubt many have ever knocked him down a peg if it’s happened. I wouldn’t place a bet on it. Him being Xavier’s lapdog doesn’t make him less formidable or dangerous. If anything, it makes himmore. Xavier isn’t the leash I would put on anyone.
“Well, you’re half wrong.” Reaching up, I open the cupboard above me and pull out the unopened packet of Werther’s Soft Caramels. It lifts my shirt, and I catch Miles looking at the glimpse of revealed skin, an unreadable expression on his face. I’d give a small fortune to know what he’s thinking.
“What are those for?” Miles asks, not revealing any of his cards.
Dropping two into the mug that’s mine, I raise a challenging eyebrow. “Want one like mine now?”
He glances between me and the mug. His eyes look darker than usual under the dim light above the island bench. “Yes.”
Another surprising answer. If he’s trying to call my bluff, he’ll find that I don’t.
He doesn’t say a word when I drop two of them in his mug as well. Only continues to stare at me with that intense gaze. He and Xavier are too much alike and yet completely different at the same time.
The knock at the back door isn’t wholly unexpected. I wasn’t expecting Xavier to wait at the front gate for me to let him in, and it doesn’t surprise me that he knows which door I use more frequently.
“Finish these for me,” I tell Miles and walk away without waiting for a response.
The sight of Xavier at the door takes my breath away. Where Miles’ outfit is meant to avoid attention, Xavier’s entices it. The deep-burgundy three-piece suit is eye-catching. And if that wasn’t enough, the fact that the top three buttons are undone, showing tantalising flesh, would be enough. Thick belt with an intricately designed silver buckle and a tie clip of the same metal—the tie matches the suit. Dark mussed hair and a thick five o’clock shadow.
“Hunter.”
The way he says my name is like a physical caress, deliberately used to stroke my insides. I wordlessly open the door wide enough to let him in, unable to manage a response without giving away everything.
He immediately bends to unlace his dress shoes—a glossy burgundy to finish the outfit, of course—and places them directly beside Miles’. I wish I was strong enough not to take advantage and stare at the way his pants tighten around his ass,but I’m not. He’s facing this way on purpose, knows exactly what to do to increase my blood pressure.
The smirk he shoots me when he stands is knowing, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response. “Put your gun in the safe.” Punching in the code, I swing the door open and wait for him to comply.
