“Are you still close?” she asked.
“My dad passed when I was twenty. He was a lot older than my mother. She lives in Florida now with her second husband. Good guy. They live in a little retirement community, and I go see them every year. I call her every week.”
“What does she think of your career?”
I winked. “She thinks I run a security firm. That I push paper and assign bodyguards to famous people.”
“So, she has no idea.”
“I do push a lot of paper around. I have someone else who assigns the jobs,” I admitted. “As for what I was trained for… No, she has no idea, and she never will.”
She looked away, reaching for her coffee cup. The movement caused her shawl to fall away, and I glimpsed the sight of dark marks on the top of her arm as she reached down to pull the shawl back into place.
Rage hit me like a wrecking ball, and I reached across to stop her hurried movement.
“Did he do that?” I seethed, pushing up her sleeve and seeing the impressions of fingers on her pale skin. “He fucking marked you?”
“They don’t hurt.”
“Not the point. You don’t touch a woman with anger. Ever. My father taught me that from the moment he could make me understand. Women are to be cherished. Protected. Cared for.” My hands shook in rage as I looked at the marks on her skin. “I am going to teach him a lesson he won’t forget.”
She cupped my cheek. “He grabbed me yesterday and shook me. I told you that. I bruise easily. I don’t want you going after him, Damien. If he leaves me alone, leave him alone.”
“Why?” I asked, pressing her hand to my cheek.
“I don’t want you hurt in any way. Please.”
I turned my head and kissed her palm. “He can’t hurt me, Raven. He doesn’t stand a chance against my skill set.”
“Please.”
“If he leaves you alone, I’ll leave him alone. If not, all bets are off,” I lied.
I had no intention of letting this rest. I had a feeling she wasn’t the first woman he’d stalked. But I swore, she would be the last.
She frowned, obviously unsure if she should believe me. She leaned forward, dropping her voice. “Are you in the mafia?”
I began to laugh. “No.”
“Are you an undercover agent of some sort?”
“You watch too much TV.”
“But you’re more than a business owner,” she insisted.
I inclined my head, letting her know she was right.
“Will you tell me?”
I had seen what secrets did to a relationship. They almost cost Julian his marriage, and it took them a long time to recover. I would prefer to be honest, but I didn’t want to scare her away. “One day, yes.”
She sighed. “Okay.”
Then she yawned, and I glanced at my watch. It was past eleven. We’d been there for over three hours, talking, eating, and enjoying each other’s company. I had to take her home and let her get to bed. I didn’t want to, though—I wanted to stay with her and talk more. Then kiss her until I had my fill. All the sweet ones had been great, but I wanted her lips underneath mine. My tongue in her mouth. Her taste filling me up.
Her underneath me on my bed. Her voice begging me to take her. Crying out when I did.
I signaled for the check, knowing I would have to be content with good-night kisses. For now, anyway.