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And I’m flying blind. Hera didn’t tell me what information he has. Only that it’s his current case, it’s bad for us, and I need to destroy it.

If he knows I’m after it, I’m not going to succeed with brute force.

Diplomacy is the smart move.

I set up cameras anyway. Just in case I get lucky.

Then I wait.

In his apartment. In his bed. With The Importance of Being Earnest.

He arrives earlier than I expect. Comes straight to the bedroom.

He knows I’m here. But is it because he smells my shampoo in the air? Or is he watching me too?

“You’re dressed,” he says casually, as he undoes his tie. He does it slowly, like he’s putting on a show for me.

He hangs his suit jacket. Then he takes his gun from the shoulder holster and places it on the dresser.

His dark eyes fix on me.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask.

“Where’s the fun in answering that question?” he replies, in a tone I can’t read.

He’s different than I remember. More defiant.

It shouldn’t turn me on, but it does.

My lips curl into a smile. I look up at him the way I would if we really were together.

I hold up my hand and motion come here.

He doesn’t.

“Did you find what you’re looking for?” he asks as he rolls his sleeves to the elbows.

“If you keep taking your clothes off, I will,” I say.

He smiles. You’re so full of shit, but it’s cute.

His hand goes to his gun. It lingers there, as if to suggest this could end in a shoot out. That he could pull far more quickly than I could.

Which is true. His gun is right there.

Mine is my purse.

But that’s not his style, either. He’s careful. And what’s he going to do? Shoot me and ruin his three-hundred thread count sheets?

No way.

I raise a brow.

He shrugs don’t tempt me. Looks me over again. Decides to trust me enough to see this through. “I need to put this away.”

He goes to the study, drops it—and who knows what else—into the safe, and returns to the bedroom.

He stands in the doorway, his eyes passing over me slowly.