But the other part? The louder part? It’s a warningred flag.
He crouches in front of me, like he can hear the argument raging in my head. “Let me take care of you.” His hand cups my cheek, and I lean my face into his touch, briefly closing my eyes.
“Okay.”
WARREN
We make it back to my apartment, shower, and fall back into bed. This time, we take it slow. Our connection feeling deeper, the kind that leaves her boneless and half-asleep before I’ve even finished catching my breath.
By the time she settles under the duvet, she’s exhausted from my constant need to be inside her.
I watch her for far too long, tracing a thumb across her cheekbone, brushing her hair off her forehead, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She murmurs in her sleep, reaching instinctively for me, and something tightens in my chest.
It’s only when Anthony slips quietly inside that I finally rise. I close the bedroom door behind me and step into the lounge, where he’s tapping away on his laptop. He looks up, then snaps it shut.
“I’ve found someone to watch Leoni,” he says. “He’s good. Worked with plenty of high-profile clients. Discreet. She won’t have a clue he’s there.”
“Good.” I sink into the armchair, stretching the tension from my hands. “Send me his profile. I’ll review it.” My jaw clenches. “She’s visiting her father tomorrow morning. I want you to drive her.”
Anthony arches a brow. “What if he tells her everything?”
I scoff. “They’ve got too much history to get through before they eventhinkabout discussing her job. And he’s not about to confess his sins to his grieving daughter.” My lips curl, humourless. “He’s a lot of things, but honest isn’t one of them.”
Anthony nods. “True.”
“Bring her straight to the airport after. The plane leaves for Italy at noon.”
My eyes fell on the bag Anthony packed for her. It sits neatly by the couch, and I stare at it for a moment before picking it up. I carry it back to the bedroom. She’s still asleep, curled on her side in my sheets, hair spilling across the pillow. It punches the breath out of me. How small she looks. How breakable. And how much I love seeing her here, like she belongs.
I set the bag on the edge of the bed and slowly unzip it.
Clothing. Heels. A few folded tops I’ve seen her wear to work. And then my jaw tightens.
Her underwear.
Lace, satin, soft fabrics she should only ever have boughtwith me in mind.
A low burn lights beneath my ribs.I sent Anthony to do this. He followed instructions. Efficiently, as always. But the thought of his hands on her things, her clothes, her lingerie, hits a nerve.
I swallow hard, fingers brushing the edge of a delicate black pair. Too delicate. Too intimate. Too personal.
He shouldn’t have seen this.
The irrational anger pulses through me anyway. I close the bag with a sharp tug. She shifts in her sleep, and instantly the angerdissolves into something else—fear, maybe. Or the beginnings of it.
This is happening too fast. Dragging her to Italy. Keeping secrets from her. Pulling her into a storm she doesn’t know exists.
But slowing down isn’t an option. Not when she’s already in danger. Not when the truth about Mick is pushing up through the cracks and threatening to take her from me before she ever truly becomes mine.
I sit on the bed beside her, my hand hovering above her shoulder but not quite touching.
“It’s all moving too fast,” I whisper under my breath. “But I won’t lose you. Not now.”
Her breathing stays steady. She doesn’t stir. I shift down the bed and wrap my arms around her, falling into a troubled sleep.
I breeze into the office, freshly showered and braced for whatever mood my father throws at me. He doesn’t disappoint—he storms in the second I close my door.
I smile. “Good morning.”
