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“Never seen it,” Felix says, his fork already twirling pasta like he’s ready to devour the world. “The owner dishes out whatever the hell he feels like cooking. And today, darling…” he smirks, his eyes dark as sin, “… it’s chilli prawns, my favourite.”

“Convenient,” I shoot back, but my voice has no bite. It’s hard to sound tough when you’re salivating over the perfect dish.

“Life’s all about the little things,” he replies, his mouth quirking up at one corner. “You’ll learn.”

I dig in, letting the flavours explode on my tongue—garlic, tomato, and that kick of chilli. It’s a dance of heat and satisfaction, and for a moment, I let myself forget thedarkness that brought us together. Forget that this man beside me could snap necks as easily as he snaps his fingers.

“Good?” he asks, and it’s all husky voice with hidden meaning.

“It will do.” And it’s not just the food I’m talking about.

Chapter Fifteen

Felix Greyson

When I click the door shut behind us, the sound echoes through my fortress’ grand foyer. I can’t help but notice the shift in Aurora’s demeanour. The raging storm in her eyes seems to have calmed, leaving a quiet sea in its wake.

“Feeling better?” My voice is low, almost a growl, as I carefully watch her.

Aurora nods, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Good,” I grunt out, satisfied.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, a violent vibration against my thigh. Angel—always calling at the most inopportune times. I fish it out and answer with a clipped, “Hello?”

“Pack up’s done.” Angel’s voice crackles over the line, all business as usual. “All of Aurora’s belongings will be at your door in two days.”

“Appreciate it.” I keep it terse. No need for pleasantries. We both know the drill.

“Take care of her, Felix. That girl’s got more ghosts than a goddamn graveyard.” There’s a note of warning in Angel’s voice that grates my nerves.

“I know,” I snap back as Angel says more.

“Matteo’s got a job for you.”

I lean against the cool marble of the kitchen island, my gaze flicking to the hallway where Aurora disappeared. “Hit me.”

“Korean gang’s been a thorn in our side,” he continues, his words clipped. “One in particular needs to be… removed. Left as a message.”

“Location?” My fingers tap an impatient rhythm on the granite.

“Sent to your secure line. Five days from now.”

“Done.” I cut the call short, images of what’s to come already taking shape in my mind—a shadow moving silently, the gleam of cold steel, a final breath. Business as usual. I allow it to centre me again, breathing life back into my limbs.

I shove the phone in my pocket and stride down the hall. “Darling?” I call out, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. I find her upstairs, wandering from room to room like she’s searching for something—or maybe running from something.

“Hey,” she says, turning to face me, her eyes wide and bright.

I take in the sight of her in these empty rooms. “You know you can do whatever the hell you want with these rooms, right? Paint them black, hang upside-down bats, whatever gets your creativejuices flowing.”

“Really?” She seems taken aback, the corners of her mouth lifting in a hesitant smile.

“Angel just rang to tell me your stuff will be here in two days, so you will need to find places to put it all.” I smile at her as a spark of excitement lights up her features. “Except for the basement. That’s off-limits. It’s my murder dungeon.”

Her laughter dances across the barren walls, and I wonder how such a sound could come from someone who’s seen so much darkness. “Can I have one of these rooms upstairs? For writing?” she asks, her voice soft but determined.

“Sweetheart, you can have the whole damn house if you want it.” I reach out, letting my fingertips graze her arm. “Just stay out of the basement.”