I sat across from her. “I know. It’s private and high enough to be fairly quiet. Once the neighborhood slows down in the evenings, it’s quite peaceful.” I studied her body language, seeing how her shoulders relaxed and some of the tension left her face now we were ensconced in the building. “You can use it whenever you like.”
She glanced over my shoulder. “I assume you aren’t taking me home after dinner.”
“You assume correctly.”
“Or in the morning.”
I sat back, bending my leg over my knee. “Nope. Until I have a handle on this asshole, you’re stuck here with me.”
“Unless I insisted.”
I sighed, running a hand over my neck. “I won’t keep you here like a prisoner, Raven. But you’re safe here. He can’t get into the building, throw something through the window, or even see you. If you insisted on returning to your apartment, I would go with you. Assign a bodyguard to you as well as stay. Your place is a little small, but I’d make do.”
“And if I refused all that?” she asked quietly, testing me.
I shrugged. “Then you’d find security detail following you everywhere. Me included. I won’t give him the chance to get to you.”
I saw the wonder in her eyes. The relief. Then she smiled and sat back. “I guess I’ll stay, then. Especially if you’re going to grill. I can’t have a barbecue at my apartment.”
I laughed, pleased to know she wasn’t going to fight this. I meant it. I wouldn’t force her to stay here—that would make me no better than the asshole I was trying to find—but I wouldn’t let her be alone either. Here, I knew exactly how to protect her.
“Do you want to eat out here?”
“I’d like that.”
“Okay, you relax, and I’ll bring the stuff up.”
She stood, suddenly looking nervous again. “Oh. No, I’ll help.”
I wrapped an arm around her. “He can’t get to you here. Not a chance.”
“I just feel better when I’m closer to you,” she admitted.
My chest warmed at her words. I kissed her softly. “Okay, then. Come help.”
We returned downstairs, gathering everything, filling a tray. I wasn’t a cook like Marcus, but I could grill well. We’d bought a premade salad, and Raven had picked up a fresh baguette, admitting to a slight addiction to bread. We returned up to the roof and soon were sitting down to eat. The food was delicious, the wine helped us both relax, and I teased Raven about her downplaying her bread addiction. She almost growled as I reached for the heel of the bread, making me laugh before handing it to her. The other end was already gone. When we’d gotten back to the apartment, I had pulled the bread from the bag with a frown.
“Jesus, someone bit off the end. How did I not notice that in the store?”
She had tried to hide her grin but failed.
“You took a bite out of the bread? In the store?” I gaped at her.
“Once I paid for it. It was still warm, Damien. Warm,” she repeated. “I couldn’t resist.”
All I could do was laugh. She was completely adorable, and I didn’t want her any other way. I liked her just like that. Free-spirited bread-stealer that she was.
I encouraged her to tell me more stories of the kids she taught, enjoying the way her eyes softened when she spoke of her students.
“You’ll make a great mother one day,” I said without thinking.
She stared at me, her mouth forming a silent O.
“I mean, if you wanted kids,” I added.
“I would love a couple of them,” she admitted.
“It seems so natural to you,” I observed. “But I didn’t mean to overstep.”