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Until I left, I couldn’t speak about Vincent.
If I told Bastian about Vince’s visit, our truce would dissipate. It’d lead to my secrets unraveling, and I didn’t want to think about what would happen if he knew I was an illegitimate De Luca Princess and an undercover FBI agent.
“Bastian! I’m hungry!” Tessie called out, her voice growing louder as she neared.
I pulled the covers up, shifting her brother’s arm away from me.
She didn’t look surprised to see me in bed with Bastian as she entered the room in her pink Power Rangers pajamas. “Can you make me food? I can’t find Luna.”
Bastian peeked his head up. “Luna’s off work today.”
“Oh.” She frowned and stared at me. “Bastian sucks at cooking. I hope you don’t suck, too.”
I shrugged beneath the covers, painfully aware I only wore my camisole and no underwear. “I do alright. What do you want?”
“Two mini pancakes with flax and almond butter, a mushroom and cheese omelet, half an eggs Benedict, and a blueberry and açaí smoothie.”
Good lord.
Rich people breakfast.
I popped a brow. “Is that all?”
She bit her lip and actually tried to think of more.
“I think we ran out of almond milk, so I guess that’s all.” She turned to her brother. “Did you find Uncle Vince yet?”
Bastian’s eyes shot to mine, the irritation growing until I shook my head in denial. His fault for having a smart sister. He sat up, and the sheets pooled around his waist.
In the light, I could finally see his tattoos.
He had the name Everett inked onto his ribcage, bold and unapologetic. I wanted to bite down on the tattoo and ask who in his life was so permanent they’d earned the right to stain his skin.
An inappropriate line of thought with an eight-year-old at the door, so I tamped it and stared at the ceiling as Bastian spoke.
“We’re still looking. Also, this is my house not the Ritz Carlton. You’ll have cereal.”
“But—”
“Or you could have oatmeal.”
She shut up. “Fine, but I want Captain Crunch.”
“Deal. Go change out of your pajamas and gather your homework, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
I slid the sheets off as soon as she retreated, feeling way too self-conscious without my panties.
He didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t looking as I walked to the en suite bathroom as quickly as I could without outright running.
I turned and glared. “Could you at least pretend you’re not looking?”
It felt like a wall between us had been shattered yesterday, and we navigated this unusual territory with reservations, trying to discover what each other’s limits were, but each second bridged the divide we’d once shared.
He laid on his side, his fingers absently tracing his Everett tattoo like they were used to doing so.
“No.” He tilted his head sideways, and I got the feeling he was prolonging this, trying to push aside the severity of Vince’s absence for as long as he could. “Your ass is pretty hot, but it looks better with my dick in it.”
“Your mouth is pretty nice, but it looks better shut,” I shot back as I slammed the door on him.
