I do not answer fast enough.
That is a mistake.
She sees it.
Her gaze drops to my mouth.
I am painfully hard now. I guess even a gunshot isn't enough to keep me down.
I hate myself for it.
No, that is not true.
I hate that I cannot hide it.
Caterina sees it very well.
Her eyes darken.
“This is a bad idea,” I say quietly.
“I know,” she says back, just as quietly. Like we’re sharing a secret.
“We are in your father’s house,” I say, trying to be reasonable.
It doesn’t work.
“I know.”
“I am your protection,” I say. One last-ditch effort.
“I know.”
“My job requires judgment.”
“You have judgment.”
“Not around you.” The words leave before I can stop them.
Her expression changes.
Not triumph. Not satisfaction.
Something softer and far more dangerous.
“That sounded honest.”
“It was a warning.”
She moves closer again.
I should step back.
I do not.
The moon is shining directly into the window now, throwing part of the room into shadow and catching the silk of her robe where it ties at her waist. She stops close enough that I can see the rise and fall of her breathing.
“You keep saying this is unprofessional,” she says.
