by Wick,Christa
Reminding himself he didn’t want Daniella sitting any closer, he moved a plate and one of the fruit cups toward her, refraining from touching his own food as he waited for her to take a bite. She did, her movements wooden, her gaze darting between the cart and the sleeping Christine, never at him.
He looked at the crib and realized he hadn’t seen the baby since the ambulance crew took her away. She had been squalling, covered in blood and some kind of placental or amniotic goo, and wrapped in his thousand dollar silk jacket.
Ignoring his sandwich, he walked over to the crib. Pushing away the sensation of Daniella’s gaze boring into him, he bent over the sleeping baby. Lynn and Daniella shared the same hair coloring, only the half-sister had bleached her long strands to a gaudy platinum. He brushed a thumb softly against the baby’s cheek, not wanting to wake her but hoping, at the same time, to see the color of her eyes. They had been that odd dark blue some infants are born with that darkens to brown over time. Not always, but for some babies.
Either way, he doubted they’d be gray. According to driving records, Lynn and Ronelle had hazel eyes. Daniella must have taken after her father in that respect, whoever the man was.
Turning back to the cart, Kane froze as a knock landed at the door. Christine woke. Daniella dropped her sandwich onto the plate and moved toward the crib, her gaze startled.
“I thought no one could reach this floor?”
“Reed has the code,” he explained. Overcoming the urge to reach out and give her arm a reassuring squeeze, he shoved his hands in his pocket. “And the people you’re worried about aren’t in the habit of knocking.”
Fishing his phone from his pocket, he turned the display on, navigated to the camera feed for the front door then showed her Reed mugging it up. She smiled and released an amused snort before bending down to lull the baby back to sleep.
“Be right back,” he assured her, wincing at the eager tone he could hear in his voice.
Not eager—necessary, he scolded as he headed down the hall. Lindsey hadn’t secured a safe house and Reed was here to break the news. In the meantime, if Kane didn’t want Daniella heading out on her own, he needed to make nice, try to socialize with her a little bit so she didn’t feel like she was imposing.
Opening the door, Kane felt his plans crash to the floor as he saw Reed holding a vase full of flowers.
“Hey, boss,” he said, wearing a broad grin as he swept inside the penthouse. “Where’s Dani?”
“Where you left her,” Kane answered, his lips almost sealed from the tight clamp of his jaws.
What was Reed doing calling her “Dani”? Had she told him to? Reed didn’t get chummy with females. Half the staff thought he had a boyfriend hidden away somewhere, the rest thought he was a monk on loan from the Vatican.
Hands bunching into fists, Kane shoved them in his pockets and followed his subordinate and friend of more than a decade down the hall to where Daniella waited with a genuine smile on her face. Seeing the flowers, her expression brightened a little more.
“Hey, Dani girl, bad news.”
Her smile faltered. Hidden inside his pockets, Kane’s short nails began to bite into the flesh of his palm as his fists constricted.
Dani girl? Flowers?
Kane wondered if the man was flirting with her or just trying to put her at ease?
Reed jerked his head in Kane’s direction. “You’re going to have to put up with this bozo until Monday morning, then I have a sweet little bungalow lined up for you.”
He handed her the flowers with a flourish. “I figured these might soften the blow and offset how damn dry and rarefied everything is in the penthouse.”
Reed gave a little chuckle before lobbing a veiled barb in Kane’s direction. “You’d think Hades himself lived here.”
Kane’s spine jerked stiff at the use of his operations name. Reed knew better than to use it just to make an inside joke at his boss’s expense.
“Since you’re here,” he growled and gestured at his untouched sandwich, “you can keep Daniella company while she has lunch. I’ve got more work to do on Wagner’s file. The sooner this is sorted out, the better for everyone.”
Wincing at his words and the effect he suspected they would have on Daniella, he turned so neither Reed nor the woman would see his face.
“Sure thing,” Reed laughed. “If Dani doesn’t mind, I’d love to sit and have a meal with her.”
Kane didn’t wait to hear the reply. He was in his office with the door shut before the first word left Daniella’s lips.`
Sitting at his desk with the lights out, Kane heard Reed re-set the alarm as he left ninety minutes later.
His thumb stroked the edge of his phone in the same pattern it had been repeating for the last half hour. For all the men he would name as friends, Kane realized, there wasn’t a one he could call, not after all the shit he had given them over the years concerning the very problem that now perplexed him.
Stark and Nazarov weren’t really friends, anyway. They were brothers of a sort. Brothers were always there for one another, just like friends. Brothers forgave one another damn near anything, even when mere friendships might fall apart. But that didn’t mean he could have a talk with either man. That’s not what brothers did.
He couldn’t call up Stark and ask him how he had known Mia, his wife, was “the one.” He couldn’t ask Nazarov why the flame for Alina had burned for so long despite the appearance of her betrayal. And he absolutely couldn’t talk to Reed about anything to do with love. Even after so many years, the topic was a raw spot for the man. Besides, Reed was taking too much damn pleasure over Kane’s current state of confusion.
He was utterly alone, Kane realized. Alone and in the dark.
Down the hall, Christine started to cry. Daniella soothed her with a song as she had the night before, the baby instantly silent at her aunt’s sweet, haunting voice.
Ghosts against the winter sky,
The years, like clouds, roll on by,
I can’t see you…
Chapter Six
Indecision over whether to strike out on her own with Christine proved the perfect prescription for a long night of insomnia. While her mind tossed and turned, Daniella held her body immobile, the crisp linen sheets too easily transforming her tumultuous thoughts into actual sounds that might wake the baby if she moved.
Eventually, she succumbed to fatigue, only to be woken less than an hour later by Christine ready for a bottle. After making a quick diaper change and giving the baby a pacifier, Daniella tried to quietly zombie walk down the hall, sleep tugging at every step.
Opening the microwave door, she used its light to try to find the mute button. She’d gone the rest of the day without seeing Trent Kane and didn’t want to risk another encounter by waking him.
“What are you looking for?” he asked softly, standing beneath the arch that separated the kitchen from the main corridor.
Daniella jerked upright, her cheek narrowly missing the metal prong on the microwave door.
That was twice he’d almost made her jump straight out of her skin! She was certain the first time had been on purpose. The man moved like a damn cat!
“The mute button,” she answered, giving up the search now that she knew he was awake.
She placed a cup of water inside the microwave and set the cook time for one minute. Pressing the start button, she turned to Kane. He sat on one of the island stools and she offered a flat, half smile that she had to force to her lips.
He didn’t respond. With almost no light in the room beyond what illuminated the interior of the microwave, she couldn’t read his expression at all.
An electronic beep signaled the cook time had finished. Daniella poured the water into the bottle, gave it a vigorous shaking then tested the temperature before returning the cup to the strainer.
Kane still hadn’t said anything beyond his initial question.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked, something a
bout his shadowy face making her reluctant to leave.
He didn’t answer. His body remained so stiff and motionless, she thought he might have fallen asleep. Anyone else, she would say that was impossible, but the man’s spine was as rigidly straight as a four-by-four every time she saw him. Maybe it stayed like that when he slept.
“I need to give Christine the bottle,” she added after it became clear he wasn’t going to answer her.
Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything turned into a challenge. Like maybe she was missing the right combination of words to unlock his tongue. So, instead of leaving, she made another attempt.
“The pacifier only works so long before her stomach figures out it’s being fooled.”
He lifted one finger, a sort of bored permission for her to leave. Her cheeks turned hot in an instant. She left the room as quickly as she could, her gait no longer reminiscent of the walking dead but someone urgent to leave an area before she broke down emotionally.
Reaching the guest room, she retrieved Christine and a measure of calm settled over Daniella. Cradling the baby, she sat in the office chair, knees bouncing as she lightly rocked. The bedside lamp was set on low and she stared at her niece’s face.
Beautiful chubby cheeks, greedy lips, delicate brows matched by gossamer eyelashes. The confused tears that had threatened at Kane’s odd silence were replaced with a salty stream of joy.
This was her baby. Not her daughter, but her baby nonetheless. She would raise her with love. Anyone who couldn’t love Christine would not be a part of Daniella’s life. If she had to leave the country to keep Merl or his buddies from getting their hands on the baby, she would.
“How does Costa Rica sound?” she whispered as Christine’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the bottle. “Mrs. Henderson retired there with her husband. She supplements her pension with online work. There’s a rainforest and beaches and a beautiful bird with a tail longer than the rest of its body.”
The bottle empty, Christine didn’t answer. Teasing near the baby’s mouth with her fingertip, Daniella eased the rubber nipple away, brought the baby up to her shoulder and gently rubbed at Christine’s back until a soft burp sounded.
She returned the baby to the crib then looked at the bottle. The guest room had its own bathroom. She could use its sink to rinse the bottle out. Returning to the kitchen despite the thirty minute lapse in time risked running into Kane again.
That was kind of ridiculous, wasn’t it? It’s not like he would be there waiting for her. Why? So he could stare silently at her?
Looking down at Christine, Daniella laughed at herself.
“Only room for one baby in that crib. Guess that means I’ve got to pull on my big girl panties,” she whispered then headed for the kitchen.
Leaving the soft light of the bedroom, the hall and kitchen were dark, just the faint glow from the small power lights on some of the appliances. Beyond the hum of those appliances, the room was quiet as a tomb.
She turned on the overhead light for the larger sink and ran some warm water to rinse out the bottle.
In small stages, she realized she wasn’t alone in the room. He didn’t make a sound, not even his breathing, but she knew Kane was still in the kitchen, sitting on the same stool where she had left him. Cutting off the water, she placed the bottle in the strainer and slowly turned to face him.
“I apologize,” she started, throat constricting around the words. He made her feel so strange, like she had both every right and no right at all to be mad at him.
“It was rude what I said this morning,” she continued. “But it was how I felt—how I still feel. I’m going to find a place for tomorrow—I mean today, I guess. Then, if it’s okay with you, Christine and I will move into the bungalow on Monday as planned.”
He shot her plan down with one of those dismissive lifts of his finger.
“If my presence is making you uncomfortable, I’ll go to a hotel.”
His unexpected response drew her closer to the island, the light above the sink illuminating his features. She had encountered plenty of males in real life that she would call “good looking,” but she had never met one who looked like he belonged in a magazine ad, a Hollywood set or on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
Kane possessed that kind of breathtaking appearance with his jet black hair just long enough to grab hold of, the heavy, almost ominous brow, and the angular jaw line veiled by its immaculately trimmed beard. The head was perfectly proportioned to the muscular body. He had a strong nose, strong cheekbones—strong everything.
Realizing how long she had been staring at him, she shook her head. “I’m not chasing you out of your home, Mr. Kane.”
“It’s Trent,” he corrected, his voice low and deep, the words unnaturally elongated from how he regularly talked. “And this isn’t my home. It’s where I keep my things.”
The weary response saddened Daniella. The man could live in practically any home he wanted to with all the resources at his disposal, but the place he had chosen was just a shell for his possessions.
Chewing at her lip, she remembered something Reed had said earlier—a sort of joke he had made.
“You didn’t like it when Mr. Henley said it was like Hades lived here.”
There was a slight lift of his shoulders. She would have called it a shrug but she wasn’t sure if Kane was capable of making the gesture. He seemed so erect and blunt.
“It’s my operations name, which I’ll have to change now.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone,” she whisper-promised.
This time, when the shoulders lifted a micrometer, there was no doubt in Daniella’s mind that the man had shrugged. Noting that his expressions and gestures were quite subtle sometimes, she wondered which were the real responses and which were fake. That first day in his office, he had thrown up his hands, broadly swept them along his desk. Tonight, he was giving her the faintest of finger and shoulder lifts. At breakfast, he had been a stone wall once he pushed a plate in her direction.
Swallowing down the question, she moved even closer to Kane. When he had entered the kitchen while she prepared Christine’s bottle, she hadn’t noted how he was dressed, only that he was covered from ankle to collarbone. Now she could see he had on black pajama pants and a matching top that he hadn’t buttoned, the sliver of exposed flesh an olive-gold. She might have guessed that he had traces of First Nation blood in his veins, but his operations name made her think of a Mediterranean background.
“He was a lonely god if I remember my Greek mythology,” she said, her voice not much louder than her earlier whisper. “A warden of ghosts, really.”
Yes, that summed Trent Kane up perfectly, she thought, once more on the verge of tears from being in his presence. What was wrong with this beautiful man? At first she had thought he was reacting to her, that she was too poor, too heavy, too “provincial” to elicit anything other than a quiet disdain.
Now she realized this was who he was. She could have been the President of the United States and he wouldn’t reveal himself to her.
“It’s settled,” he said, retreating behind that hard shell of his. “You won’t be leaving. Lindsey will take care of making you more comfortable here and I’ll have a car and driver for you if you need to do any shopping of your own. As for groceries, just send a list down to the concierge. We’ll plan on a few extra days so the bungalow will be exactly as you need it. In the meantime, I’ll be at a hotel.”
He moved to leave.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, halting him. Voice breaking up, she shook her head.
“No, Trent. I won’t chase you out of…where you keep your things.”
Chapter Seven
Kane unraveled at her touch, at the sweetness in her voice. His hand covered hers where it remained on his shoulder. He turned into her, lifting her fingers to his lips then pressing his mouth against the open palm.
He heard the deep breath she drew in, the sound vulnerable and surprised.<
br />
Don’t get involved, he warned himself. From the second he had opened up her envelope and read the papers, his job was to protect her—not bed her.
His fingers denied the direct order from his brain to let go of her hand. Instead, they pulled her closer, folded her voluptuous frame into his arms. Tilting her head back, he placed his second kiss against her bare neck.
She exhaled, body shaking.
He waited for the protest, the outrage.
Daniella moaned, her body pressing into his, her knees weakening.
“Don’t faint on me, Dani,” he whispered against her ear before sucking the delicate lobe into his mouth. “There’s so much I want to do with you.”
Certain he could feel her heart banging against the back of her ribcage despite the full, luscious breasts molding against his chest, he pressed his lips to her flesh again, this time at the pulse along the underside of her chin.
The heavy thump-thump filled his balls with an aching need. Kane took a step back, pulling her with him. Her hands clutched at his arms, the fingertips digging at his biceps.
“Wh-at…wh-ere?” She jerked with each word, shaking hard against him.
“Does it matter?” he whispered into her ear then stopped breathing until she answered.
The emotions battling their way across her face carved furrows of desire, anxiety, fear, uncertainty, need…
He passed the minute mark of no air leaving or entering his lungs. Three was his max—when he could beat back the surge of adrenaline rushing through him. Holding her in his arms, feeling the soft, warm press of her body, watching each twist of indecision in her expression, he couldn’t control the chemicals coursing in his blood.
The room threatened to spin and the floor fall out from under him when her lips finally parted.
“No,” she answered. “It doesn’t matter.”
He inhaled, then crushed his lips against hers, his tongue more demanding than it had ever been as it slipped past the yielding teeth. His fingers threaded through her thick hair, tugging her head back, extending her neck and leveraging his height. He backed her against the island, tongue probing the wet cavern of her mouth.