Page 81

You gave me seven days. I’m still on day four. Stop pestering me.

The fucker.

“We’re here,” Noah says.

I lock my phone and look out the windshield.

We’re here indeed.

I haven’t given Volks Security enough attention since I got back on my feet last week—too distracted with Grace and finding Daniel Salvi.

A pile of documents is waiting for me upstairs, and I still need to check on the progress of the Sentinel Band, review the latest investment reports, and see how many people have signed up as beta testers.

So I shove everything else out of my head and climb out of the car.

32

DIMITRI

It’s late by the time I get back home, and I’m already itching to grill Grace again. Not because I want to touch her. No. I want answers, that’s all.

The delicious smell of dinner greets me as I walk in, drawing me toward the dining room, where Grace and Anya are setting the table while Hugo, my ex-wrestler chef, carries in two steaming plates piled high with food.

As though they sense my presence, all three turn toward me at once. Anya dips her head respectfully, and Hugo gives a small wave, but my attention lands on Grace, who shoots me a brief glare before going back to fuss with the cutlery.

I narrow my eyes at her, and Anya discreetly nudges her elbow, but she still doesn’t look up.

What’s she so pissed about? I didn’t even put the chastity belt on her last night, or tease her before leaving this morning like I wanted to. I let her sleep, damn it.

Shaking my head, I turn away and make my way toward the stairs.

“Dinner’s ready!” Hugo calls after me.

I don’t answer. I go straight up to my room, strip out of my clothes, folding them neatly before placing them into the laundry basket. A quick shower later, I change into something casual and head back downstairs.

Grace is already eating, brows furrowed, lost in thought. I pause at the doorway, watching her before she notices me. She looks forlorn, and I can’t help wondering what’s weighing heavier on her mind. Her friend… or me?

I clear my throat as I walk in.

Her head snaps up, and the sadness disappears beneath a smile so warm and genuine it steals my breath. And makes me suspicious. What changed between the time I arrived and came back down?

“I thought you were pissed at me,” I say, sitting down across from her.

“Always.” She shrugs. “But it wasn’t you specifically, more the general situation. You know, we’ve never eaten together like this. I wonder why.”

I frown but let the subject change slide. “Maybe because you always have your meals in your room.” Not that I blame her. I’m essentially her jailer. I tap my finger on the table as Hugo returns to set my plate in front of me.

“I ate breakfast by the poolside this morning. I enjoyed it, so I had all my meals out here today.”

Hmm. I study her closer. She does look like she’s enjoying herself a little more than usual. Did she somehow get herself off despite Anya hovering over her all day? How? “And how was the rest of your day?” I prompt, and the way her cheeks redden tells me she knows what I’m really asking.

She forks up some lasagna and takes a moment to chew before answering, “It was fine, thank you. And yours?”

I smirk. “Look at you, being all polite.” And purposely misunderstanding my question.

“Well, we can’t all be barbarians like you,” she returns primly.

“Hmm.” I slip my right foot out of my shoe beneath the table and slowly slide my socked foot along her ankle. Her sharp inhale is the only outward reaction as my toes creep higher. The pulse in her throat flutters wildly, her face flushing deeper by the second.