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I smile into her hair. “You mean the one you said you were gonna make, then didn’t?”

She grumbles and nuzzles into my chest. “This isn’t me forgiving you.”

“Noted.” I pull her closer, and she tightens her leg over my hip. “Feels like forgiveness, though.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“It does.”

The door beeps, and the sound of the lock clicking out of place has my heart jolting. I pin Sunday on her back and pull the covers high enough to cover our bodies, kissing her just as Felton walks in. Sunday’s lips are warm, her body hot, and I rest myself between her thighs as she kisses me back.

“Oops, sorry.” Felton’s tone is teasing, and I pull my mouth from Sunday’s to glare at him. He grins and leans against the doorframe. “You unplugged the cameras, spoil sport.”

Ignoring him, I return my attention to Sunday, kissing her neck. If Felton had walked in on me holding Sunday like that, he’d be suspicious. She needs to be one of two things to me: someone to fuck, or no one.

Beneath the covers, I rest my hand on her stomach. She’s tense, clearly wondering what the hell Felton is going to do, so I make slow, delicate circles across her skin. We used to do this when we were dating—trace shapes on each other with our fingers and see if the other could guess what it was. She relaxes into the touch, and when I kiss her earlobe, she whispers so only I can hear, “Circle.”

Felton eyes the covers, as if hoping he can see through them. “It’s a shame D sucked me dry this morning, I would’ve joined in. Speaking of my lovely wife-to-be, I have some clothes for you, Sunday.” He drops a bag by the door. “When you two are finished fucking, breakfast is ready in twenty. Cage, meet me in my office before we eat. Need to talk to you. Big news.” He finally leaves, closing the door behind him.

Sunday doesn’t breathe until the lock clicks into place, and I roll off her.

“What could that be about?” she asks, pulling the covers over herself. “Do you think he knows?”

Covering my eyes with my forearm, I breathe through the urge to follow Felton and strangle him. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s always had a strange fascination with me, but his twisted attention also seems to be on Sunday. It’s fraying at my nerves.

“No. He’s a shitty liar. I’d know if he was suspicious.”

“What do I do? Go to breakfast with you?”

“If he brought you clothes, then yes. You’ll have to.” I uncover my eyes. Sunday is chewing her lip, brows furrowed as she stares at the ceiling.

“He can come in here any time he wants, can’t he?”

I exhale deeply, though it does nothing to unfurl the knot in my chest. “It seems so.”

“I don’t like that.”

Me neither.

“You don’t leave my side, Sunday. Not at any point.” She nods, but doesn’t speak, her cheeks pale. She climbs out of bed and fiddles with the hem of the T-shirt she’s wearing. “Sunday.” I shift to sit at the end of the bed and pull her to stand between my knees. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

She focuses on the space between us, light brows furrowed. “There are a lot of other men here, Cole. You might be good, but you’re not that good.”

I rest my hands on her hips, searching for the words to reassure her without scaring her, too. The truth is, I am that good. There’s a reason I’ve risen in the ranks of this world so quickly, and it isn’t a silver tongue or a fat bank account.

“Trust me when I say that when it comes to protecting you, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”

She finally meets my eye, and something close to electricity hums under my skin at the intensity of her stare.

“Do you promise?” I nod, and she shifts closer. “A real promise this time.”

My heart aches, and I nod again. We’re inches apart, her body almost entirely resting against me. “A real promise.” I gently squeeze her hips, and she exhales shakily. “We should get ready.”

I shower first, and once I convince Sunday there are no cameras in the bathroom, she showers, too. The clothes Darcy provided don’t cover much, and Sunday opts for a sheer, green sundress, her lingerie from the night before visible through the material, but she wasn’t given any other underwear.

“Remember that I’m a different man out there,” I say as we stand at the door. “I don’t speak much, if at all, so you’ll have to read my movements and expressions.”

She tilts her head. “Why don’t you speak?”