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Her attention was on the flames, but he suspected she was still very aware of him. ‘Why shouldn’t I be spray-painting your limo at two in the morning?’
‘That’s not the correct answer,’ he reproved mildly. ‘Don’t you think I’m owed an explanation, considering it was my property you vandalised?’
Irritation crossed her features. ‘Fine. The people I was with dared me to. So I did.’
‘And if they dared you to jump off the Eiffel Tower you’d do the same?’
‘Probably.’ She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘You can’t back down—not even once. Not if you don’t want to be a target.’
Ah, so now they were getting to it. ‘I see. And these people are your friends?’
He thought not. Not considering how a one-hundred-euro note had been enough to pay for her name.
She shook her head. ‘Just some people I was hanging around with.’
‘At two in the morning? Didn’t you have somewhere else to go?’
Her lashes fell, limned in gold by the firelight. ‘It’s...safer to be around other people sometimes.’
The tight thing coiled in his chest shifted around yet again, because even though she hadn’t said it outright he knew. No, she didn’t have anywhere to go, and she didn’t want to admit it.
Proudgatita.
‘I’m not sure those people were very safe,’ he murmured. ‘Considering how your night ended.’
She gave a shrug. ‘Could have been worse.’
‘Indeed. You could have spent another night on the streets.’
There was no response to that, though he didn’t expect her either to confirm or deny it—not given how reluctant she was to give him any information about herself. Clearly telling her that he knew who she was wouldn’t go down well, so he definitely wasn’t going to reveal that in a hurry.
A small silence fell, broken only by the crackling of the fire.
‘Will you sit down?’ he asked after a moment. ‘The chair behind you will allow you to stay close to the fire if you’re cold.’
She gave him another sidelong glance, then made a show of looking around the room, as if trying to locate the chair. Then, without any hurry, she moved over to it and sat down, leaning back, ostensibly relaxed, though she’d put her hand in her pocket again, holding on to her knife.
There was another armchair opposite hers, so he sat down in that one. A low coffee table was positioned between them, which should present her with a safety barrier if she needed it.
‘So what now?’ she asked, staring at him, her chin set at a stubborn angle.
‘Tell me a little about yourself. If not your name, then at least a few things that will give me an idea about the kind of person I’ve just employed.’
‘Why do you want to know that?’
He smiled. ‘This isn’t supposed to be a debate—merely a request for information.’
‘Why do you need information?’
Persistent, wasn’t she? Not to mention challenging. Good. His life had been without any challenges lately, and he could use the excitement.
‘Well, since you won’t give me your name, I need some indication of whether you’re likely to make off with all the silverware.’ He paused, considering whether or not to let her know just how much leeway he was allowing her. Why not? If she was testing him, he could test her. ‘I do a background check on all employees who are granted access to my house, in other words. For safety reasons, you understand?’
A little crease appeared between her red-gold brows. ‘How can you be unsafe? Here?’
Of course she’d find that surprising. Especially if she was living on the streets. She no doubt thought nothing could harm him here, and to a certain extent she was right. Physically, he was safe. But four walls and bodyguards—even if he employed any—didn’t equal safety. You could have all the physical protection in the world and still end up broken and bleeding.
Luckily for him, his wounds had healed. And no one could see the scars but him.
