That surprises me.
Dolores sets her cup down. “Trust is not a thing a man like Stefano should be handed because he had a sad childhood. Make him earn what he wants from you.”
Heat rises before I can stop it.
Dolores’ eyes sharpen.
Oh no.
I look down at my coffee.
Too late.
She hums softly. “Interesting.”
“No.”
“I said nothing.”
“You said interesting.”
“That is a word, not an accusation.”
“It sounded like both.”
Her smile returns, small and wicked around the edges. “He watches you differently.”
I should stand. I should leave. I should fake a medical emergency, though with Heath asleep nearby that feels like tempting the universe to punish me.
“He watches everyone,” I say.
“No. Stefano studies everyone. He watches you. Intently I might add. Studying is hunting for weakness. Watching, well that is something entirely different. Distracting.”
The distinction settles under my skin, unwelcome and impossible to ignore.
I think of the club. The car. The way his thumb brushed the corner of my mouth after the kiss. The way he told me to say again that I was not his.
I think of last night, of being carried, of the word reward leaving my mouth like I had no survival instincts at all.
Dolores watches my face and sighs. “Ah.”
“Noah.”
“Too late.”
“I’m not discussing this with you.”
“Of course not.” She lifts her coffee again. “You will sit there and pretend not to think about it while I pretend not to notice. This is how women have survived difficult men for centuries.”
Despite myself, I laugh.
Quietly.
Heath shifts on the couch, and both of us look over.
He settles again, cheek pressed into the pillow, Erin’s book resting open near his knees.
The warmth of the moment thins.
