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That hadn’t been the only idea he’d had before he fell asleep. He’d scrawled a few brief lines about the Italian healthcare system. All military branches stored their medical records with the same company.
It was the best idea they’d had all afternoon. She’d just pulled up her snoop programs, ready to hack the Alleanza database, when Tristan and Katia entered the apartment.
Katia grinned at Dixon’s sleeping form, specifically at what his form had pressed against.
Tristan did not, especially when his eyes drifted to her wrist. He slammed the door so hard that Shirley likely heard it downstairs.
Dixon bobbled his head and yawned. His arms straightened around Lila in a catlike stretch. He hugged her tightly as though he might use her as a pillow again, and his chin shifted position on her shoulder.
One eye opened, taking in her hood. The other opened, and he squinted at Tristan and Katia, both staring with different expressions.
“I didn’t know you were still here,” Tristan grumbled.
“My father has not yet contacted me, and my source hasn’t learned anything new. I wanted to stay close. If that’s a problem, I can leave. I do have my car.”
“Why would you do that?” Katia asked. “The oracle’s compound is so far away.”
Lila shrugged. Tristan hadn’t told Katia t
he truth about what had happened between them the night before; that much was plain.
Instead of anger, Lila felt…
Nothing. Seeing the couple together didn’t sting as much as it had the entire week before. It had nothing to do with the argument or ill-advised sex. She’d just finally come to a realization. Tristan would never be at ease unless he took a workborn lover—not because the gulf between the classes was too large to bridge, but because Tristan couldn’t bridge it. He couldn’t meet a highborn halfway, not even his own brother.
Dixon would leave the shop even if he and Blair never became more than whatever they’d become. Tristan had driven him away. He would have driven her away too if she’d let him.
“What have you two been up to all day?” Tristan said, moving to the kitchen. He grabbed a pair of glasses from a cabinet and opened the fridge. Two pizza boxes had been stacked inside, mostly eaten by Dixon after their workout. “Pizza? You got her pizza from Ruby’s?”
Dixon nodded absently and picked up his tablet, yawning as he peered at the screen.
“Of course they’d order from Ruby’s. They make the best pizza.” Katia fiddled with the boxes, looking for leftovers. “Now I have a craving. Let’s order more.”
“Pineapple and ham?”
Lila ignored Tristan’s whining tone. “You’d just finished Rome,” she reminded Dixon.
He scratched at his cheek, checking his watch.
“It was only a short nap,” she assured him. “Twenty minutes, tops.”
“Why’d you get pizza?” Tristan shouted over the kitchen counter.
Lila rubbed at her eyes over the hood, wishing she’d taken a nap too. “Because I’ve enjoyed it in the past whenever you ordered it? There isn’t much left, I’m afraid. We were both hungry after my lesson, and Dixon insisted on ordering pineapple on everything. If you don’t like it, eat it at your own risk.”
Dixon shoved her, nearly unseating her laptop in the process.
“What? It sounded interesting when you suggested it, but it turned out kind of weird.”
“I know! What’s up with that?” Katia giggled. “They both put pineapple on everything.”
Dixon flipped them both off and held up his notepad. Amateurs.
“I suppose that makes him a professional?” Katia asked.
“A professional pizza eater? He sure tried this afternoon. I don’t know where he puts it.”
“I don’t know either, but it looks good on him, doesn’t it?”
