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“What?” I asked.
“You’re already talking about having children?”
We hadn’t, and I had no idea why I’d said it as if we had. “I was joking.”
She folded her arms. “Don’t poke fun at things like that, Typhon.”
“My apologies.”
“Accepted. Now, what’s she like?”
“Smart, funny, gorgeous, talented, kindhearted, loving…Shall I go on?”
“What are her talents?”
“She’s a sculptor. In fact, she has a studio in Brighton, where you can see some of her work. She also paints.”
“Does she know what you do?” Her tone was solemn because the subject was.
I nodded. “The basics. She does have some familiarity with SIS. Primarily MI6.”
“By way of what?”
I sighed. “A cousin.” Kima knew nothing about Saint’s involvement on the day her stepfather died, and if that information was ever leaked to her, I’d kill whoever had done it.
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
When I rang El before we left, she’d asked what type of food Kima fancied. I’d responded that anything outside of pub food would suffice. I receive a message a short while ago, saying she’d reserved a table at our favorite taperia. They served traditional Spanish food and nothing remotely pub-like.
I pulled up behind the regency house, as El and I called it. “She’s still at the studio,” I said, motioning for Kima to follow. When we rounded the corner, I saw a car parked in the loading zone and the man who it belonged to—Saint—standing on the sidewalk, talking to Eliza. If the two hadn’t spotted me, I might’ve considered turning around. When I caught a glimpse of his expression, coupled with his body language, I was certain we should anyway, if only to keep Kima away from him.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
I handed her my keys. “This will get you into the house via the rear entrance, which you saw when I parked. Wait there for me.”
“Yes, sir.” She meant no disrespect in her response to me. The tone I’d used was meant to convey an order, which she immediately responded to.
Eliza stepped forward, she and her cousin cheek-kissed, then he got in his car, turned it around, and drove past me on his way to the main thoroughfare. I didn’t look in his direction, and I doubted he looked in mine.
“Sorry about that,” El said, meeting me halfway.
I shook my head. “You needn’t be.”
“He’s a bit put out with me.”
I raised a brow. “Over?”
“My lack of sharing my life with him, for one. Two is the visit Nigel paid him.”
“Let me guess. Your father blamed Niven for your refusal to allow them to move into your apartment.”
“Precisely.”
“Why should he be put out with you about that rather than your father?”
El wrapped her arms around my waist, and I reciprocated. “He’s displeased because I didn’t tell him about Millicent’s visit.” She looked over my shoulder. “Where’s Kima?”
“Waiting for us at the house.”