I don't know. But I intend to find out.
The door to my office opens without a knock. Benedict, of course, sauntering in with his usual disregard for boundaries.
"Brother," he says, dropping into the chair across from my desk. "You look like a cat who's caught a particularly juicy mouse."
"Do I."
"Mmm. Josiah said you've been in here all afternoon, staring out the window and smiling to yourself. It's unnerving the staff." He stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankle. "Let me guess—the florist?"
"Her name is Poppy."
"Poppy." Benedict rolls the name around like he's tasting wine. "How delightfully pastoral. Is she coming around, then? Accepting your generous offer of employment?"
"We're meeting tomorrow. To discuss terms."
"Terms." He laughs. "Is that what we're calling it? I thought the term was 'entrapment.' Or perhaps 'obsessive pursuit.' Something with a bit more accuracy."
"Your concern is noted."
"I'm not concerned. I'm entertained." He leans forward, elbows on knees, eyes bright with interest. "Josiah thinks you're losing your mind. He's been running background checks, building contingency plans, preparing for the moment when this all blows up in your face. Very responsible of him."
"And what do you think?"
Benedict considers the question, his expression shifting from amusement to something more thoughtful.
"I think you're playing a dangerous game," he says. "But I've never known you to be stupid about danger. If you want thiswoman badly enough to risk Brotherhood scrutiny, there must be a reason." He pauses. "I'm just not sureyouknow what that reason is."
The observation lands closer to home than I'd like. I keep my expression neutral.
"I know exactly what I'm doing."
"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're making an awful lot of moves for a woman who should be a non-issue by now. If she were anyone else—any other witness, any other loose end—she'd already be dealt with. Quietly, efficiently, the way we've always handled these things."
He's right. He's absolutely right, and I hate that he can see it so clearly.
"She's different," I say.
"Obviously. The question is why." Benedict stands, straightening his jacket. "I'm not going to lecture you, brother. That's Josiah's job, and frankly, he's better at it. But I will say this: be careful. You're not the only one watching her. And if the Brotherhood decides she's a liability..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't need to.
"I'll handle it," I say.
"I'm sure you will." He moves toward the door, then pauses with his hand on the knob. "One more thing. This meeting tomorrow—where is it?"
"Ristorante Umberto. The private dining room."
"Nice choice. Intimate. Secluded." He smiles, but there's something sharp beneath it. "I assume you won't mind if I happen to be dining there as well? Just to observe. Satisfymy curiosity about the woman who's captured my brother's attention so thoroughly."
"Stay away from her, Benedict."
The words come out harder than I intended, edged with a possessiveness I can't quite control. Benedict's eyebrows rise.
"My, my," he murmurs. "It really is serious, isn't it?"
"I mean it. She's not a toy for you to play with."
"No. She's a toy foryouto play with." He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Don't worry, brother. I'll keep my distance. For now."
