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"I want to say that I'm surprised, but I guess if I'm being honest, I'm not." I shake my head. "I mean, Rhea's got a lot of love to give."
"I thought she may have been in love with you." Remy's eyes hold mine, gauging my reaction.
He isn't prepared for the fit of giggles that I dissolve into. A smirk creeps into the corner of his lips.
I can't help it. Rhea and I definitely love one another, but nowhere near a sexual way. We’re too much like family.
When I regain my composure, it’s just enough to ask, "Why would you think that?"
"I just had to be sure." He shrugs, casual, but his eyes are shining playfully when Elaine sets the package on the counter. "So, what did Rhea have on the itinerary for today?"
"Let me see..." I flip to the photos in my phone, where I'd taken a snapshot of Rhea's master plan. "Uh," I try to sort the days out in my head. "It looks like we were supposed to go shopping."
Remy makes a face that matches how I feel. I do still need clothes if I’m going to be here for the next week, but I’m not going alone, and the thought of Remy following me through racks of dresses and tops is unappealing. The idea of Jovich stalking through the store in my wake is even more unsavory.
"I'll probably just lay by the pool, maybe go down to the beach, if that's okay?"
He glances up at me from where he has slit the tape on the package. Elaine yells something about him leaving her knives alone and that they have letter openers in the office, but Remy ignores her. "Sounds great. Actually, the best beach bar in the entire Western Hemisphere isn't far from here. They have live music and cheap margaritas. I'd be happy to escort you."
I bite my lip, considering it. I finally feel alive for the first time since we left the States. Do I really want to squander it laying by the pool? I want to do something, and I want to be near Remy, so why not? "Okay." I say it quickly, before I can change my mind, and then drop my head to hide the smile creeping across my lips.
Elaine sets a plate in front of me, laden with all sorts of colorful foods I don't recognize. I thank her and watch Remy survey the contents of the box he's just opened. But his face gives nothing away, and he closes the box again, resting his arms on it as he looks across the counter at me. "How do you like it?" He gestures to the untouched plate before me.
I cut off a small bite, wait a second for the steam to subside, and then lift it to my mouth. His eyes are so intent on my mouth that it makes me uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. How am I supposed to eat with him watching me, sending a thrill through me that I still don't understand?
"It's amazing." I answer honestly. He watches me without moving, without blinking. I see the flicker of a smile play on Elaine’s face as she sets about making Remy’s breakfast.
The silence feels heavy. "So," I clear my throat. "What time were you thinking?"
Remy straightens and tucks the package under one arm. "Maybe about an hour or so. That'll give us both time to get ready."
Without anything else, he sweeps out of the room, leaving me to stare at the plate of food Elaine prepared, and leaving Elaine to stare at me while I pretend not to notice.
Chapter twenty-one
Remy
"There's no return address?" Jovich muses, rubbing the straggly hair on his chin.
"No shipping address either. Whoever this package is from, they hand delivered it." I had successfully hidden my anger in front of Claire and Elaine, but I’m not holding anything back from Jovich. His eyes flicker from my face to the box, and when he opens it, his expression darkens.
"Sort of a big box for one measly bullet." He reaches in and grabs the little piece of metal, holding it up to the light and squinting. "9-millimeter luger."
"The same bullet I used against whoever shot at Claire back in the States." Jovich narrows his eyes on me in an unspoken question.
He doesn't have to say what he’s thinking. In all the time he's known me, I’ve never been wild about guns. There are other methods of doing a job that are cleaner, easier, more personal. "It was in my mother's nightstand."
That, at least, makes sense. Jovich makes a noise of understanding. "So, whoever sent you this package knows where you live. Not exactly a surprise."
"No." I agree. I don’t have my address listed in public records, but it’s not like it would be hard to figure it out. "I want to see the security footage from the front door. Whoever brought that box up to the door is either an idiot, or they didn't know what was in there."
"Sure." Jovich says. "I'll have Dimitri pull up the feed and send it to you."
As my tech guy, Dimitri controls access to the security feed. I can access my cameras myself from my phone to see where anyone is at a given time, but archives can only be accessed from the computer, a process I’ve never bothered to familiarize myself with.
"I'll go ask him myself."
Jovich’s voice stops me before my hand falls on the doorknob. "Dimitri isn't here right now. He's chasing some lead."
