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"I wasn't."

"Then this shouldn't bother you."

I watch him carry it into his study and close the door. The bastard has learned logic. This is becoming dangerous. When he returns, I am still standing exactly where he left me.

"Happy?"

"No."

"Good."

I should argue. Instead, something inside me loosens.

For the first time in what feels like weeks, there is nothing demanding our immediate attention. Nobody is bleeding. Nobody is tied to a chair. No accounts are disappearing in front of me. There are no encrypted messages waiting to be cracked before someone else dies.

It's just Adrianos and me now, and suddenly I can't tell why that’s frightening.

We eat on the terrace. Actual food, at an actual table, without a laptop between us. The experience is so unfamiliar that I briefly consider documenting it for historical purposes.

Athens stretches beneath us in scattered lights. Somewhere beyond these walls, men are investigating the penthouse breach, Volkov is undoubtedly tearing apart the financial information I gave him, Lorenzo is trying to prevent the Crown from cannibalizing itself, and Santiago is probably insulting somebody. I wonder where Declan went.

Adrianos puts more food on my plate.

I stare at it. "What are you doing?"

"You haven't eaten enough."

"I've eaten."

"You moved vegetables around your plate."

"They needed reorganizing."

"Eat."

"You're becoming controlling again."

"I'm asking you to eat dinner."

"Today it's dinner. Tomorrow you're deciding which vegetables I'm permitted to associate with."

His eyes narrow. "How do you function inside your own head?"

"Efficiently."

"That's not the word I'd use."

I smile despite myself and take another bite. The silence afterward isn't uncomfortable. That's new too.

When I first met Adrianos, every silence between us felt like a negotiation. I measured what I said because he measured everything. He was dangerous, arrogant, and impossible to read, and I refused to give him anything he could use against me.

Now I know the man behind the silence.

I know he still wakes sometimes with memories he won't discuss. I know he checks exits automatically. I know he becomes colder when he's frightened because anger is easier for him than fear. I know his instinct is to control anything he might lose.

I also know he changed his decision about Drakos because I asked him to. Not because I forced him. Because my judgment mattered.

I put down my fork.