Cass had been in my life for almost a year, and I still didn’t know his last name. You’d think after eleven months of sleeping with someone, I’d at least know what to put after his first name besides a question mark.

I was standing in my kitchen at one thirty in the morning with a glass of red wine in one hand and my phone in the other, staring at the message he’d sent four hours earlier.

Coming up.

Two words. No hello. No explanation. Not even a question about whether I was home. Apparently that was enough.

I’d spent the last seventeen days telling myself I was done with this arrangement. Seventeen days was long enough to convince myself that maybe I’d finally gotten tired of being available whenever he remembered I existed. I’d even started believing it. Then his name flashed across my screen, and somehow I was standing in front of my closet five minutes later, wondering which robe looked like I hadn’t spent the last seventeen days waiting for him.

Client files were stacked across my desk in the living room, waiting for me in the morning. I had work to do, sleep to catch up on and an entire list of reasons why I should’ve ignored him.

The front door opened a few minutes later, and Cass walked in like he’d never spent the last seventeen days disappearing on me. Black T shirt. Faded black jeans. Brown Timberlands this time. His dark hair was slightly messy, and that familiar dimple appeared in his left cheek when his eyes found mine.

That damn dimple showed up, and just like that, my carefully prepared attitude started falling apart.

He shut the door behind him and looked at me for a moment without saying anything. I held his stare for a second longer than I should have before taking another sip of wine. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’d checked my phone twelve times tonight.

“You’re late,” I said.

His mouth twitched. “It’s one thirty.”

“Exactly.”

“You were awake.”

I lifted my glass. “Clearly.”

His eyes moved over me, taking in the robe, then came back to my face. I hated how easily my body reacted to that look after almost a year of knowing exactly where it usually ended.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

I looked down at my robe, then back at him. “That’s your opening line?”

That dimple appeared again.

That was the problem with Cass. He could annoy me, frustrate me and make me question every decision I’d made since meeting him, then look at me like that and make me forget why I was angry in the first place.

We’d met at Phoenix Nights during a girls’ night that involved too much tequila and bad decisions. I remembered Brianna spotting him first. She’d practically climbed over me to whisper that some guy in the VIP booth was watching me. When I looked over, there were ten men sitting together, all of them ridiculously attractive and none of them looking remotely interested in the party around them.

Cass had been one of them. I went home with him that night expecting to wake up embarrassed and never see him again. Instead, one night became another, and somehow eleven months disappeared. Before I knew it, he had become the man who appeared at my apartment whenever he wanted, usually after dark, usually with a short text and never with an explanation. Sometimes I wouldn’t hear from him for days. Sometimes longer. He never made promises, never asked for them and never seemed bothered by the fact that I knew almost nothing about him.

I didn’t even know his last name. I knew how ridiculous it was. I just also knew exactly how he smelled when he climbed into my bed, and apparently that was enough to override common sense.

Cass walked closer, and I caught the tiredness around his eyes. It was subtle, but I’d seen him enough times to notice when something was different. Tonight he had none of that confidence he usually carried. He looked like he’d been running on too little sleep for too long.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

He reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face. His fingers were rough and warm, and the simple touch did something to my stomach that I’d stopped trying to understand months ago.

“Sophia,” he said quietly.

I put the glass down and reached for him. My fingers tightened around his shirt before I could stop them, then slipped underneath it. He didn’t give me time to think about what I was doing. I kissed him, and whatever irritation I was holding onto disappeared almost immediately.

He kissed me back with the same intensity that made this whole situation impossible to walk away from. One hand cupped the back of my neck while the other pulled me closer by my waist, and for a few minutes I stopped caring about his missing surname, the seventeen days of silence or the fact that I had absolutely no idea where he went when he wasn’t with me.

We barely made it upstairs. By the time we reached the bedroom, the wine was forgotten, the client files were forgotten and so was every promise I’d made to myself about being done with him. But God, that man knew just how to use that tongue. By morning, I was going to have questions for myself. Right now, I was too busy enjoying the consequences of my terrible decision.

The next morning, Cass was gone. Shocker.

I woke up, reached across the bed without thinking and found nothing but cold sheets. I stared at the empty side for a few seconds before grabbing my phone from the nightstand. Nothing. No message.

Of course he hadn’t left a message. That would require him to behave like a normal man, and we’d already established that wasn’t happening.

What exactly had I expected? A handwritten note? Good morning, Sophia. I enjoyed our seventeen-day reunion. See you in another month. Love, Cass.

I rolled my eyes and got out of bed.

By the time I showered, dressed and made coffee, I was already annoyed with myself for caring. I owned my own accounting firm, paid my own bills and had enough sense to know that a man who didn’t even tell me his last name probably wasn’t a man I should be rearranging my life around. I knew better. That had never stopped me before.

My office was busy when I arrived, which was exactly what I needed. I spent most of the morning going through client files before Victor Hale’s accounts caught my attention again. Victor was one of my biggest clients, a millionaire with enough companies and investments to keep my firm busy for months. His records were usually painfully organized, which was why one particular transaction had been bothering me since the previous afternoon.

Thirty two thousand dollars. The amount itself wasn’t unusual for someone like Victor. The vendor was what caught my attention. Meridian Advisors.

I pulled up the transaction history again and searched through the previous year’s records. Nothing. No earlier payments to the company. No long term contract. No obvious reason for a consulting firm to suddenly appear with a thirty two thousand dollar invoice.

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my forehead.

I’d spent enough years staring at numbers to know the difference between something genuinely wrong and something that only looked strange because I was tired. I checked the invoice again. Unfortunately, it still looked strange.

I opened another file. Then another. The more I checked, the less comfortable I became. Meridian Advisors looked legitimate on the surface. There was a website, a business registration and enough paperwork to keep anyone from immediately raising an eyebrow. But the invoices were vague. Consulting services. No detailed scope. No breakdown of services rendered.

That alone wasn’t enough.

Victor had plenty of legitimate expenses that were difficult to categorize. I spent another hour checking the surrounding transactions before finding another company with almost the same pattern.

Harbor Consulting Group.

I wrote the name down beside Meridian Advisors and stared at both for a while.

Two companies.

Two vague invoices.

Two sets of payments that looked ordinary on their own but less ordinary when placed beside everything else.

By the time I left the office, I had a headache and two company names stuck in my head.

I was halfway through taking off my shoes when my front door opened.

I didn’t even bother looking up. Ethan had a key, which meant he considered my apartment a public facility and himself a regular visitor. I heard the door close, followed by the sound of grocery bags hitting the kitchen counter.

“Unemployed people have too much time on their hands,” I called out.

“I am between jobs,” he said. “There’s a difference.”

I walked into the kitchen and found him pulling things out of the bags. He was wearing the same faded hoodie I’d seen him in at least a hundred times, and I was starting to think he’d bought it once and decided that was enough clothing for the rest of his life.

“Between jobs,” I repeated. “Right.”

He looked over his shoulder. “You want me to leave?”

“No. What did you bring?”

He held up a block of the cheese I liked. “This.”

“Fine. You can stay.” I snatched it from him before he changed his mind.

“Glad I made the cut.”

I put it in the fridge while he continued unpacking. Ethan didn’t ask why I looked tired or why I was working when I should’ve been asleep. He never did. He’d known me long enough to understand that if something was wrong, I’d eventually complain about it without being asked.

“How’s the job hunting going?” I asked.

He shrugged and pulled a carton of eggs from the bag. “I’ve had a couple of interviews. Nothing yet.”

“Something will come up.” I shook my head and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “You want something to drink?”

“Beer.”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“And?”

“And I have work tomorrow.”

He stared at me. “The beer is for me, Sophia.”

He launched into the story about the interviewer who apparently knew nothing about hiring people, and I let him complain while I opened my laptop.

He started cooking while I dropped onto the couch with my laptop.

“You’re going to burn that,” Ethan called from the kitchen.

I looked up. “Burn what?”

“The laptop.”

“I’m working.”

“You’re always working.”

“Some of us have jobs.”

He appeared around the corner holding a wooden spoon. “Low blow.”

“You’ll survive.”

Ethan returned with the spoon still in his hand. “Dinner’s ready.”

I closed the laptop and carried it with me anyway.

Ethan looked at it, then at me. “You’re bringing that to the table?”

“It’s important.”

The food was actually good, which I refused to tell him because he’d never let me hear the end of it. I ate while scrolling through the notes I’d made earlier, comparing the payments again.

Ethan noticed eventually. “What are you looking at?”

“One of my client’s accounts.”

“The rich guy?”

“That’s most of my clients.”

“The really rich guy.”

I looked up at him. “Victor.”

“Yeah, him.”

I turned the laptop slightly away from him, more out of habit than anything else. “There’s a couple of payments I don’t like.”

He chewed for a moment. “Why?”

“The companies don’t look familiar. The invoices are vague. Nothing is technically wrong, but the whole thing feels…” I searched for the right word and glanced back at the screen. “Off.”

“Then ask him.”

“I might, but I don’t want to sound like I’m accusing him of fraud.” I shook my head and took another bite.

“Then don’t accuse him. Ask him.”

By the time we finished eating, he’d moved on to complaining about another interviewer. Apparently the man had “zero vision,” which I pointed out was probably a polite way of saying Ethan hadn’t gotten the job. He threw a napkin at me. I laughed and threw it back.

After we cleared the plates, he stood by the sink while I dried them.

“You know you could just hire me,” he said.

I glanced at him. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m family.”

“Exactly.”

He laughed and reached for the last plate. “I’ll see you later.”

I followed him to the door and waited until he stepped into the hallway before closing it behind him.

I put the laptop away and went to bed. Tomorrow I’d call Victor.

The next day, I was tired enough to regret that decision.

I got through the morning on coffee and stubbornness, trying to focus on the ordinary work piling up around me. By late afternoon, the office had started emptying. Laura stopped by my doorway on her way out, already changed into jeans and carrying her handbag.

“You’re still here?”

“I’m the boss.”

“Unfortunately.”

I smiled. “Go home, Laura.”

“That’s what I’m telling you to do.”

“I’ll leave soon.”

She shook her head and started walking away before turning back. “Seriously, Sophia. Don’t stay all night again.”

“I won’t.”

Laura stared at me for a second, then shook her head and walked away.

For another hour, I did my level best to ignore Victor’s files.

Eventually, I closed everything and reached for my phone. It was later than I’d realized, so I packed my things, shut down my computer and stood up.

That was when I heard something hit the floor downstairs.

I stood there with my bag still in my hand, listening.

The office was supposed to be empty.

Another sound came from below, followed by the unmistakable scrape of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

I put my bag down.

The lights went out.

For a second, I stood in complete darkness. Then the emergency lights kicked in, leaving the hallway outside my office dim and red. I tightened my grip on my phone and stared at the office door. Then I heard footsteps. More than one person. They were coming from downstairs.

I backed away from the door, my phone still clenched in my hand. Security. A cleaner. Someone who’d forgotten something. I ran through every harmless explanation I could think of.

Then I heard a man’s voice.

I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was enough to make me stop breathing for a second.

I unlocked my phone and opened the emergency dialer.

The first gunshot echoed through the building before I could press the button.

The first gunshot was followed by another before I could even process the first one.

My phone slipped out of my hand and hit the floor. I stared at it for half a second before another shot cracked through the building, and that was enough to get me moving. I ducked behind my desk and crouched there, one hand pressed against my mouth while another shot cracked somewhere below my floor.

Someone screamed, followed by a man shouting something I couldn’t make out. Another voice answered him, and then running feet sounded somewhere below me.

I reached for my phone and nearly dropped it again when my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. I finally managed to unlock it and hit 911 before lifting it to my ear, keeping myself low.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“I’m in my office,” I whispered. “Someone is shooting downstairs.”

“What’s the address?”

I gave it to her, then listened as she started asking questions I couldn’t answer. How many people? What did they look like? Was anyone injured?

I didn’t know how many people were downstairs or whether anyone was hurt. I just knew someone had brought a gun into my building, and I was sitting in my office waiting to find out if they were coming upstairs.

Another shot made me flinch so hard my shoulder hit the desk.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m still here.”

“Are you somewhere secure?”

I looked around my office. Glass walls. One door. A desk that would probably stop absolutely nothing.

“Not really.”

“Stay where you are. Officers are on the way.”

I nodded before remembering she couldn’t see me.

Then footsteps came from the hallway.

I stopped breathing.

They weren’t downstairs anymore.

They were outside my office.

The door opened.

I pressed a hand against my chest and forced myself to take a slow breath.

“Sophia.”

I almost dropped my phone again. That was Cass’s voice. What was he doing here? I stayed under the desk for another second before crawling out slowly and getting to my feet. He stood in the doorway with a black jacket over dark jeans and a holster strapped beneath his arm. His jaw was tight, his eyes hard, and unfortunately, none of that made him any less attractive. If anything, the whole dangerous-man-with-a-gun thing was doing absolutely nothing to help me think clearly.

His eyes moved over me once before settling on the phone in my hand.

“Are you insane?” I muttered.

His eyes came back to mine. “Babe.”

I stared at him, wondering how the hell he could sound that amused when there were people shooting downstairs. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

“Are you alright?”

“No.”

“I meant physically.”

“I don’t give a damn what you meant, Cass. What’s going on?”

He came closer. I watched him look at my face, my arms, my shoulders. He checked me like he expected to find a bullet hole I’d somehow missed.

“I’m fine.”

His didn’t say anything.

“I was hiding behind my desk with a cell phone.”

“I noticed.”

I lowered it slowly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His expression didn’t change. “I was around.”

“You were around?”

“I was called.”

“By who?”

He ignored the question.

I wanted to scream my lungs out, but that didn’t seem like a smart idea. Instead, I watched him more thoroughly, noticing the gun beneath his jacket and the fact that he looked completely comfortable carrying it. I’d seen him in T-shirts, jeans and Timberlands more times than I could count. I’d never seen him dressed like this. Never seen him look at a room like he was already measuring every exit.

He reached for my arm.

I pulled away. “Don’t.”

His eyes narrowed. “Sophia.”

“I’m fine.”

He stared at me for another second before stepping back. “Stay behind me.”

I actually laughed. “Excuse me?”

“Not really something to argue over, Babe.”

“I’m not hiding behind you.”

His mouth tightened. “I wasn’t asking.”

I should have argued with him. Normally, I would have. Instead, I found myself looking at the gun under his jacket and wondering how many times he’d used one before tonight. Apparently Cass being bossy outside my bedroom was a thing too. Great.

Cass’s entire body changed. It happened so quickly that I almost missed it. His shoulders squared. His eyes sharpened. One hand moved toward the weapon beneath his jacket while the other reached for me. He pulled me behind him without even looking back.

I stared at his back. “What are you doing?”

“Quiet.”

I stayed exactly where he put me.

A man appeared at the end of the hallway, weapon raised.

Cass moved before I even had time to scream. The shot came from his direction, and the man dropped before I could process what I’d just seen. I froze, but Cass didn’t. He stepped forward, checked the hallway and looked back at me.

“Stay here.”

“You’re not seriously going to leave me here after that.”

“Sophia.”

“Cass.”

He stopped.

I could see the tension in his shoulders.

“What?” he whispered.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

His expression went blank. “Stay here, Sophia.” Then he disappeared down the hallway.

I stared after him, trying to remember if I’d ever actually asked what Cass did for a living. Not where he went, not why he disappeared, not even what kind of job required a man to show up at my office with a gun under his jacket. I couldn’t remember asking any of it. I’d apparently been too busy letting him climb into my bed and pretending the rest didn’t matter.

A few minutes later, voices filled the building.

Police officers rushed upstairs, followed by paramedics and men I didn’t recognize. The whole place became chaos. People asked me questions. Someone checked my pulse even though I kept telling them I wasn’t injured, and I answered the same questions so many times that I was starting to wonder if they thought I’d been shot in the head. When they were done, I went searching for Cass. I found him downstairs standing beside another man who looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.

The stranger was big enough that I immediately understood why he’d been hard to miss. He had dark hair pulled neatly back and a tattoo disappearing beneath the edge of his black vest. He caught me looking at him and stopped talking.

Cass turned. Our eyes met. He immediately walked toward me.

“You okay?”

“I’ve already answered that question too many times.”

“Answer it for me.”

I blinked at him. “I’m okay.”

His eyes moved over my face again.

“Any pain?”

“No.”

He nodded once.

Only then did some of the tension leave his face. “You scared the hell out of me.”

I stared at him. He seemed to realize what he’d said because his expression hardened again, and I folded my arms. “You were worried?”

He looked at me. “Seeing as I am here.” He gave a small shrug.

I hated that answer because it made the stupid little part of me that had spent seventeen days waiting for him sit up and pay attention.

“Who’s he?”

Cass followed my gaze. “Roman.”

Roman gave me a small nod. “Good to meet you.”

“Under better circumstances would have been nice.”

His mouth twitched.

Cass didn’t smile. “She’s leaving.”

I looked at him. “I’m what?”

“You’re leaving.”

“I have a business to deal with.”

“Not tonight.”

“Cass.”

“No.” I stared at him, waiting for him to back down. He didn’t. “You don’t get to order me around.”

“Just did, babe.”

I almost laughed. “Suddenly you think you can walk into my office, shoot somebody and start giving me instructions?”

His jaw tightened. “Kept you safe, didn’t it?”

Roman cleared his throat. “Cass.”

Cass looked at him. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

Cass glanced at me. “Later.”

Roman’s expression changed slightly. “Now.”

Cass’s jaw tightened again.

I looked between them.

“What exactly is going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“That’s becoming my least favorite sentence.”

Cass stepped closer. “Go home.”

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

His eyes held mine. “Because you don’t listen.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

He reached up and brushed his thumb across my cheek. The touch was so gentle it didn’t belong with the gun beneath his jacket or the gunshots that had just torn through the building.

His eyes stayed on mine. “Go home, Sophia.”

For once, I didn’t argue. I almost asked what was really going on, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the way his eyes kept moving over me, checking me again even though he’d already done it twice. Maybe it was the tension in his jaw. Whatever it was, I let him have his way and turned toward the door.

The next morning, I woke up to three missed calls from an unknown number.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds before dropping the phone onto the mattress.

I didn’t call back.

I had enough problems without voluntarily adding mysterious phone numbers to the list.

My apartment was silent, and some stupid part of me had expected Cass to show up last night. That was ridiculous. He’d disappeared for seventeen days before, so why should one night of gunshots suddenly turn him into the kind of man who checked on me in person?

Except every time I thought about yesterday, I kept seeing him standing in my office with a gun under his jacket. I kept hearing his voice in my head. You scared the hell out of me. Cass had said it like he hadn’t meant to let the words out, and now I couldn’t decide whether I wanted him to say them again or pretend I’d never heard them.

I got dressed and went to the kitchen.

My coffee was halfway finished when someone knocked on the door.

I froze with my coffee halfway to my mouth. For one stupid second, I thought it was Cass. Then I remembered that Cass didn’t knock. He walked in like doors were merely suggestions.

I opened the door and found Roman standing on the other side.

“You’re not Cass.” I stared at him, and he smiled.

“I’m Roman.”

“I remember.”

He looked pleased. “Good. Saves time.”

“What do you want?”

“To make sure you’re okay.”

“I am.”

He glanced at the coffee in my hand.

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

He laughed. “You’re definitely Sophia.”

I frowned.

“I just spent the whole night downstairs. And I could really use a coffee.”

That caught my attention. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t seriously think Cass was going to leave you alone after last night, did you?”

Like I knew anything about that man.

I crossed my arms.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small card. “This is my number. You call me when you can’t reach Cass.”

I took it. I looked at the number again. I’d called Cass before. Not often, because I wasn’t completely lacking in self-respect, but enough times to learn that his phone apparently existed for texting me and nothing else. By the fourth unanswered call, I’d gotten the message.

“Cass never answers.”

“He’ll answer.”

I looked at him. “That’s what people say right before someone doesn’t answer.”

Roman’s mouth twitched. “Call me when he doesn’t.”

“Where is he?”

Roman hesitated. “Busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Things that don’t involve you.”

I stared at him. “Then why are you standing in my apartment building at eight in the morning?”

Roman smiled again. “Because you just found your way into something that doesn’t involve you.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Before I could ask what he meant, he stepped back toward the elevator. “Lock your door.”

“Roman.”

He paused and looked back at me. “Be careful today.”

I tightened my grip around the card. “Why?”

His expression lost the last trace of amusement. “Because yesterday wasn’t random.”

Then he walked away.

I stood in the doorway until the elevator doors closed, then looked down at the number in my hand. I’d spent months knowing almost nothing about Cass and somehow being perfectly happy with that arrangement. Now I couldn’t stop thinking about the gun beneath his jacket, the way he’d moved through my office, the way Roman had spent the night downstairs because Cass hadn’t trusted anyone else to keep me safe. For the first time since I’d met him, I wanted his last name for a reason that had nothing to do with Google.

I wanted to know exactly who the hell I’d been sleeping with.

By nine that morning, I had managed to make coffee, answer three emails and stare at Roman’s number long enough to memorize it. I hadn’t called him, and I hadn’t called Cass either. I wasn’t completely pathetic, at least that was what I kept telling myself while checking my phone for the fifth time.

There was still no message from Cass.

The second time he came to my place, he hadn’t texted. I was on my couch with a glass of wine and Netflix when a knock sounded on the door. I assumed Ethan had lost his key and rushed over to open it. There stood the stranger from a few weeks ago. I opened my mouth to ask what he was doing outside my door, but his tongue in my mouth quickly stopped me. And the rest was history. To say I was a slut would be an understatement, which probably explained why I was thinking about him after he’d spent his recent disappearance doing an excellent job of reminding me that I wasn’t supposed to expect anything from him.

I picked up my phone again when it buzzed.

Cass.: You home?

I stared at the message.

Me: Yes.

The reply came before I could put the phone down.

Cass: Good.

I frowned.

That was it?

I typed, Why?

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Cass: Stay there.

I laughed under my breath.

Me: Are you giving me instructions now?

His response came a few seconds later.

Cass: Yes.

I shook my head and put the phone down.

He was unbelievable.

Five minutes later, someone knocked on my door.

I didn’t bother wondering who it was.

When I opened it, Cass was standing there with two paper bags in one hand and that irritatingly calm expression on his face.

I looked at the bags.

Then at him.

“You brought food?”

He walked past me. “Morning to you too, Babe.”

I closed the door behind him. “You could’ve said you were coming.”

“I did.”

“You said stay there.”

“Exactly.”

I followed him into the kitchen. “That’s not the same thing.”

He placed the bags on the counter and started taking things out. Breakfast. Actual breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, fruit and the coffee I liked from the little place two blocks away. I stared at the cup for a second. Did he know I liked it there? I’d never told him.

I stared at it. “What’s this?”

“Food.”

“I can see that.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

I looked at him. He gave me the smallest smile. There it was again. He was enjoying himself.

“Flowers would’ve been a nice touch.”

He blinked. “I’ve never seen you eat flowers.”

“You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.” He pulled out a chair with his foot. “Sit.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you planning to order me around all morning?”

“Probably.”

I sat anyway, mostly because the food smelled good and partly because arguing with him before breakfast seemed like unnecessary work. Cass took the seat across from me. I reached for the coffee.

He watched me take the first sip. “You didn’t sleep much.”

I lowered the cup. “How would you know?”

His expression didn’t change. “You look tired.”

I stared at him. That answer should’ve been enough, but something about the way he’d said it made me wonder whether he’d been paying more attention to me than he usually admitted.

I picked up a piece of toast. “So, are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?”

“No.”

I nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

“Not yet.”

I put the toast down. “Did the shooting have anything to do with you? Were they targeting you through me?”

“Not really.”

“Cass.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Sophia.”

I hated when he did that. “What?”

“Eat.”

I stared at him for a moment before taking another bite. Didn’t ask again. Not yet. There were bigger questions sitting between us, including the fact that he could very well be connected to what happened at my office, and I still didn’t know his last name

I could feel his eyes on me while I picked at the edge of my toast, which made it harder to pretend I wasn’t wondering what the hell was going through his head.

“You really are bossy.”

“You’ve known that for a while.”

“Not outside the bedroom.”

His mouth curved.

“Do you always avoid questions?”

“When I don’t want to answer them.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It is.”

I leaned back. “You know what I find interesting?”

“What?”

“I’ve been sleeping with you for months and I still don’t know your last name.”

He looked at me for a moment. Then he smiled. “You’ve never asked.”

“I shouldn’t have to.”

“Why not?”

“Because normal people introduce themselves.”

“We’re not exactly normal.”

I laughed. “That’s the first thing you’ve said today that I agree with.”

His eyes stayed on me. “I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Annoyed.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You enjoy making me angry?”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s a little disturbing.”

“You keep letting me come back. Easily too.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. He smiled wider. I hated that he always knew when he’d won an argument. I reached for my coffee instead.

He watched me for another second before asking, “Are you going to the office?”

“No.”

“Good.”

I frowned. “Why do you care?”

His expression changed slightly. “Because I told you not to.”

I put my cup down. “Cass.”

He looked at me.

“Yesterday, men with guns came into my office. One of them ended up dead. You showed up carrying a gun like you’ve been doing this your entire life, and now Roman is giving me his number because apparently I somehow wandered into something I know absolutely nothing about.”

I leaned forward.

“And you expect me to sit here eating breakfast while you tell me nothing?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

His fingers tapped once against the table before going still.

“I don’t want you involved.”

“I didn’t exactly volunteer.”

“I know.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what this is?”

His eyes met mine. “Because knowing makes you a target.”

I stared at him. “So I’m already a target?”

He didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

My stomach tightened. “Because of you?”

His jaw shifted. “No.”

“That’s comforting.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t get to disappear for seventeen days, walk into my office with a gun, tell me not to go to work and then sit in my kitchen acting like I’m supposed to be fine with all of this.”

“I never asked you to be fine with it.”

“Then what are you asking?”

He looked at me for a long moment. “Trust me.”

I almost laughed. “You won’t even tell me your last name.”

His mouth twitched. “Fair point.”

“Thank you.”

He stood.

I watched him walk around the table. “What are you doing?”

He stopped beside my chair. “Come here.”

“I am here.”

His hand settled on the back of my chair. “Closer.”

I looked up at him. “You really think you can distract me every time I ask a difficult question?”

“No.” His gaze dropped to my mouth. “I know I can.”

I hated that he was right.

He leaned down and kissed me. I should’ve pushed him away. I should’ve reminded him that I was still angry and that he hadn’t answered anything. Instead, my fingers caught the front of his shirt. His hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer until I was barely aware of the chair beneath me. He kissed me like it was his daily bread.

My fingers tightened in his shirt before I even realized I was holding on.

Cass had never been the kind of man who kissed me like he was trying to prove something. Usually, he was confident and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. This was different. His hand tightened against my waist, and when I turned my face slightly, he followed me without hesitation.

When he finally pulled back, I was still holding his shirt.

His eyes dropped to my hand. Then he looked at me. “You were saying something.”

I let go of him. “You’re an asshole.”

He smiled. “I know.”

I pushed his chest. “Sit down.”

He laughed quietly and returned to his chair.

I picked up my coffee, mostly so I had something to do with my hands.

I studied him. “Are you dangerous?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. “Eat your breakfast.”

I stared at him. “That wasn’t an answer.”

Before he could say anything, my phone buzzed on the counter.

I reached for it, but Cass got there first. He glanced at the screen. His expression changed.

I noticed immediately. “Who is it?”

He looked at me. “Your brother.”

I held out my hand.

“Give me my phone.”

He did.

I answered the call. “Hey, Ethan.”

There was a pause.

Then Ethan’s voice came through. “Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Are you okay?”

I looked at Cass.

He was already watching me.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I heard about what happened.”

“How?”

Another pause.

“People talk.”

I frowned at the phone after the call ended. People talk? About what? And how quickly had they started talking?

Before I could ask, Ethan said, “I’ll come by later.”

“Okay.”

The call ended. I put the phone down. Cass hadn’t moved.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you look like you’re about to say something and then decide not to.”

His jaw tightened. “Your brother shouldn’t be coming here.”

I stared at him. “Why? How did you know I have a brother anyway?”

He stood and reached for his jacket. “Because I said so.”

I laughed. “That’s getting old.”

He slipped the jacket on and glanced at me. “You’ll understand eventually.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

He walked toward the door.

I followed him. “Where are you going?”

“Work.”

I stopped. “Are you a cop?”

He looked back at me. “Security.”

“What kind of security?”

His mouth curved. “The kind that keeps me busy.”

I folded my arms. “You know what? One day I’m going to figure you out.”

He opened the door. “Maybe.” Then he looked at me again. “And when you do, you’ll probably wish you hadn’t.” He walked away before I could answer.

I stood there staring at the closed door for a moment before turning back toward the kitchen. The breakfast was still sitting on the table, untouched except for what I’d eaten, and the coffee was still warm. I picked up the cup and took another sip, then looked toward the door again. He’d shown up without warning, brought me breakfast, told me not to go to work and kissed me when I was still angry with him. And somehow, the strangest part was that he’d known exactly which coffee to bring.

My phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a message from Roman.

Roman: Don’t open the door for anyone you don’t know.

I stared at the screen.

Then another message appeared.

Roman: Especially your brother.

My eyes stayed on the screen. I read the message again, slower this time, then looked toward my front door.

Then I called Cass. When his phone went straight to voicemail, I called Roman.