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Guinevere has a watery gaze when I see her and then quickly turns away when she sees me looking. Harvey is staring at me, a soft smile and a look I don’t understand but it does something to me. It makes the need he’s left me with this morning grow and intensify under his eye. He knows it, too, smiling wickedly as I adjust myself on the barstool.

“Are you and Harvey married?” Keeley asks, breaking whatever spell Harvey was casting. He nearly chokes on his coffee as I stare horrified at the little girl.

“No, why would you ask that?” I ask.

“Because married people share bedrooms,” Keeley says matter-of-factly.

I gape. Speechlessness is unfamiliar to me but here it is with me in a chokehold. Lee has looked up from his phone, jaw practically on the ground, Mabel looks surprised too and Guinevere looks like she’s about to pass out.

Keeley looks around at everyone’s shocked expressions. “Did I say something wrong?” She asks nervously.

“No, princesa.” Harvey speaks first, thankfully because I’m still frozen to my seat. “Annika and I aren’t married.”

“Do you love each other?” she continues.

“Didn’t you want to go swimming?” Harvey asks, clapping his hands together.

“Yes!” She jumps off the chair she was standing on to look at recipe books with Guinevere. “Don’t make the cake without me, okay?” She points at the flustered maid with a stern expression that I would probably find endearing if I wasn’t having a bloody heart attack.

“Come on, Kee, let’s get your armbands.” Mable stands, holding her hand out for her little sister and leads her out the room. But she throws an amused smirk my way before disappearing.

“I think a lemon cake,” Guinevere says nervously, trying to clear the tension hanging in the air.

“Miss White and I are in a relationship,” Lee blurts, and poor Guinevere drops the metal mixing bowl she was retrieving from the cupboard with a loud clang. The glare she shoots him is very out of character and makes him shrink with an apologetic grimace.

“And you have decided to tell me this because?” I say, holding on to the tiny thread of control I have.

“Well, because you…if you and Harv are…I mean…” he trails off when he realises that he’s gone about this wrong.

“Let me be clear when I say I have been fully aware that Miss White and you have been engaged in a sexual relationship for near on a year.”

“You have?” Guinevere squeaks and in turning to look at her, I catch Harvey trying desperately to hide his laughter behind his coffee cup.

“Please, you’re living under my roof, and I’m relatively intellectual. I can read between the lines as well as anyone.”

“Miss Wolfe, we are so sorry.”

I hold my hand out to stop her apologies. “Guinevere, I have no say over who you do or do not invite into your bed.” She blushes, looking away. “And I do not determine when you’re ready to tell me or anyone else about your relationship. It’s your business, not mine.” I turn to Lee. “Just as my business is my own.”

He holds his hands up. “Yes, ma’am.”

I start to walk out but the need to say something else holds me back, turning to face a red-faced Guinevere, I tell her, “I’m pleased you’re happy, Miss White. And I’m glad that a good man has made you so.”

I give Lee a pointed stare. He can bumble like an idiot at times, but I’ve known him since he was sixteen, when I was only a few months older and had an empire to run. He has been trusting and loyal from the beginning and I want good things for him. He smiles at me, and I leave with a nod. Harvey hot on my tail.

The club is busy this afternoon and I have several of my men in for one thing or another and I hardly have a moment alone with Harvey. He doesn’t leave my office though, staying beside me through all of my meetings, a warming and calm presence at my back. I find myself grateful that we don’t get time to talk because I don’t know how to be with him now. What was last night to him? A one-time thing? I don’t know what I want from him, but I do know that I want more.

When my last appointment is over with and we are finally together, he doesn’t make me talk about things I’m not ready to. Instead he asks, “What are we going to do about the girls?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are we going to find the bastards responsible and the other kids that need help?” I sigh, trying to think of asolution. “I get that you don’t want to call the police, but I can’t just leave it.” He’s pacing back and forth.

“You think I’d be happy to just let sleeping dogs lie?” I ask, hurt by his opinions of me.

He sighs, looking at me sadly. “No,rainha. I know this is killing you as much as it is me. I just…I feel helpless here. I hate it.”

I stand, my feet taking me to him without thought of why. For the first time in my life, I have an urge to comfort someone, but my logic tells me I’ll be no good at it. I cup his face and stroke my thumbs over his cheekbones. He frowns slightly like my actions confuse him and I can’t say I blame him; I have no idea what I’m doing.