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“What you’re doing now isn’t safe.”
I spun around and folded my arms. “Why are you in London?”
“I have a home in London.”
“Nowhere near as nice as your home in Mallorca.”
He raised a brow.
“Nothing is as nice as that house.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
Being this close to him was hell. Absolute hell. I longed to wrap my arms around him like I used to, have him run his fingers through my hair, and kiss me.
“Kensington.”
“Please, I beg you, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you know exactly what I’m thinking.”
His eyes softened. “It makes it very difficult for your security team to keep you safe when you run into the woods.”
“What do you know of my security team?”
“Your safety will always be important to me, Kensington.” He looked over his shoulder. “Are you seeing him?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He nodded and slowly closed his eyes and then opened them. I could feel his pain as well as my own.
“That’s Lincoln Mulrooney, managing director of Whitby Press and my boss, of sorts.”
Cortez smiled. “I’m happy for you.”
I couldn’t read the look on his face. “I’m surprised you didn’t know.” I walked out to the pathway and over to Linc. “You might want to head on without me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Sorry about lunch. I’ll make it up to you.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Old friend.”
Once Linc left, I turned back toward Cortez. “I’m not seeing him. I’m working at Whitby Press.”
He motioned to a nearby bench. “I saw you with him at Five Hertford.”
“I saw you too,” I spat.
“With my cousin Serena. She’s going through a divorce and wanted me to use some of my skills to make her soon-to-be-ex husband’s life a living hell.”
I laughed. “Was it a coincidence that you were there?”
“No.”
