“I’m not really sure yet. I don’t know how the Bane’s Night pack is connected to Gold Moon — especially if they’re not declared on any of your paperwork — but Owen Vulcan has specifically told me that he’s interested in buying your company, and I have no reason to believe he’s not serious.”
I stopped chewing and looked at him. “Could he be…?”
Patrick nodded. “Yeah. I think it’s more than likely that he sent the wolves after you that night, and that he — or someone carrying out his orders — made the calls to your office.”
“You traced that, right?” I thought he had, but it seemed such an international spy thing to do that maybe he hadn’t.
He nodded again. “Burner phone. I didn’t really expect anything different, but it was worth checking. But promise me…” He seemed to study the contents of the pan for longer this time before finishing his thought. “Promise me that you won’t go anywhere without members of your security team, and that if you find anything out, you’ll give Seth a call. Let him know before me if you think he’ll be of more use to you. Just keep yourself safe.”
“Okay.” I was pretty sure Patrick’s definition ofanythingvaried wildly from mine. “If I find something concrete, I’ll call Seth.” That was close enough to agreeing with him.
He narrowed his eyes slightly like he knew he hadn’t gotten quite the answer he wanted, but didn’t comment.
Dad had mentioned once or twice that I might have missed my calling as a lawyer, with the amount of loopholes I made use of in arguments. I’d always told him that accountants used plenty of loopholes, too.
But instead of arguing with me now, Patrick slid an omelet onto a plate and passed it across the counter to me, then set salt and pepper grinders by my side.
“Drink?” But he didn’t wait for an answer. He prepared a glass of iced water and handed that to me as well. “We can have something stronger later, if you like.” He grinned, suddenly more at ease. Patrick started making his own meal as I began to eat mine.
“How do you think our mothers are doing?” I couldn’t help the question.
He chuckled. “Oh, about as well as any mothers anywhere, I suspect. Out from under the watchful gaze of their children? They’re probably going wild.”
“My mom doesn’t need that excuse, believe me…” I rolled my eyes before I laughed. “She feels perfectly free to be at least a little wild all the time.”
He tilted his head, his gaze questioning, but I didn’t really feel like going into the whole glass dildo urn debacle, so I drank my water and took my plate to the sink to rinse instead.
When Patrick had finished eating, he put the TV on for a while and we sat awkwardly on his sofa. We were close but not touching, and I kept resisting the urge to plaster myself onto his side. I wanted his arm around me as I rested against him. I wanted his scent all over my clothes and in my hair.
“I wonder how Charmaine’s doing?” I broke the silence. Some reality show was playing, but I didn’t think either of us was really watching it.
“I’m sure she’s fine. We’d have heard if anything was amiss.”
I nodded. “You’re right. She’d probably asleep by now, too. It’s been a long day.”
“Are you tired?” Patrick looked at me.
I hesitated. That was as good as an invitation to go to bed, and as much as that idea sent excitement into a wild dance inside me, I was suddenly nervous.
“A little,” I admitted finally.
He’d turned the TV off before I finished speaking, and he stood and held out his hand. “Bedtime?” His voice was a deep question that flipped my stomach.
I stood silently, took his hand, and followed him to his room. The door to the balcony was partly open, and the gentle swash-sound of the pool water moving in the breeze filled the room.
I moved around his space, preparing for bed, feeling more awkward than I should’ve, but this time was different. It was a more adult moment, in some respects — planned and not just a surrender to passion. I didn’t know what to expect.
When I climbed under his sheets, he was already there and he scooped me toward him, spooning me from behind. His left hand cupped my left breast, and I relaxed. I was safe and protected, and his touch wasn’t teasing. It reassured me.
I drifted to sleep surrounded by Patrick’s warmth and his scent.
When I woke up, his scent still surrounded me, but when I reached for him, the bed was empty.
I brushed my hair from my face, and rolled over. My eyes opened as I listened to the sounds of the condo, and I blinked, trying to bring my vision into focus. It was as though I’d barely moved all night, and my limbs were still heavy. I hadn’t slept that soundly in a long time. Certainly nothing close since Dad had died and stress and worry had formed the music of my days.
A piece of paper lay on Patrick’s pillow, and I picked it up before reading the note he’d left for me.
Good morning beautiful. xx