My grip tightens on the spatula. My jaw locks.
"Morning." She slides onto the barstool and reaches for the coffee, her skirt riding up her thighs as she crosses her legs. Hereyes hold mine over the rim of the mug, a challenge flickering in the blue. "Something wrong?"
"Nyet." The word comes out rougher than I intend. My accent thickens around it, betraying me. I turn back to the stove and focus on the eggs with a concentration they don't deserve.
Her quiet laugh behind me is the sound of a woman who knows exactly what she's doing.
I slide her plate across the counter, then set the contract beside it. The stack of pages lands with a soft thud that changes the temperature of the room.
She picks up her fork. Takes a bite of eggs. Glances at the document.
"What's this?"
"A contract. Massimo drafted it. The terms of your protection and what you provide in return."
She sets down the fork and pulls the pages toward her, her brow furrowing as she scans the first paragraph. Her fingers are steady, her posture straight, the playfulness from a moment ago replaced by the sharp focus of a woman who has spent her career reading documents designed to obscure the truth.
"Why do we need a contract?" She looks up, those blue eyes pinning me. "We've been exchanging information for over a week. You're already protecting me. I'm already giving you intel. What does putting it on paper change?"
I lean against the counter and cross my arms. "Several things."
She mirrors my posture, setting down her fork and folding her arms across her chest, one eyebrow climbing in that slow,deliberate arc that tells me she's slipping into journalist mode. Her chin tilts up, blue eyes sharpening, the same expression she probably wears when cornering a source who's trying to dodge her questions.
"Such as?"
"Rafael is asking questions. The brothers are getting curious about what exactly is happening between us." I hold her gaze. "Right now, I have a woman living in my home with no formal arrangement. To the Syndicate, that looks like a compromised operative, not a strategic asset. The contract makes this official and eases their minds that you are not here to blow a hole in our operations."
“And you all spent a lot of money on saving me.”
“I spent a lot of money saving you and I would do it again.”
That causes her to pause. Her lips purse into an O and for the first time my little flame has nothing to say for a moment. And then the moment passes.
Her chin lifts. "So this is about your reputation, then."
"This is about making sure no one questions whether I can do my job while you're in my bed."
The bluntness lands. Her cheeks flush, a warm pink spreading from her jaw to her cheekbones, but she doesn't look away.
"What else?"
"Right now, you have no protections beyond my word. If I'm killed tomorrow, the Syndicate has no obligation to you. No arrangement. No agreement. You'd be an unaffiliated civilian in a building full of men who answer to Rafael, not to me." I letthat settle before continuing. "A signed contract binds the entire Syndicate to your protection. Not just me."
The flush fades. Her jaw tightens as she processes the implication, the reality that my protection has an expiration date shaped like a bullet.
"And the third reason?"
"The contract gives you a choice." I keep my voice level, even as the words scrape against the inside of my chest. "You can sign or walk. You can negotiate terms, demand amendments, refuse clauses. Right now, you're here because I brought you here. After you sign, you're here because you chose to be."
Silence stretches between us. The morning light slants through the tall windows and catches the steam from our coffee mugs drifting upward between us, suspended in the warmth.
"Choice." She repeats the word quietly, turning it over. Her fingers trace the edge of the contract pages. "That's a hell of a word coming from the man who bought me at auction."
"I know. But that was because it was the only way to get to you. It’s not like I had a choice if I wanted to answer your wish."
Now it’s her turn to say, “I know.” And this time there’s a humble tone to her words.
She holds my gaze for three long seconds. Then she pulls the contract closer and starts reading.
