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“Like this?” Leo holds up a leaf, and Zeke’s face breaks into a genuine smile—not his usual calculated smirk, but something real and warm that reaches his eyes.

“Perfect, kid. You’re a natural.”

The simple praise makes Leo beam, and I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes.This could have been us. If things had been different, if he hadn’t ghosted me, if we’d had a real chance.

Zeke looks up, catching my gaze, and for a moment, I see a flash of the same longing in his dark eyes. The reality of what we lost—what we could have been—hangs between us like a tangible thing.

“Aunt Evie!” Leo’s voice breaks the moment. “Come see what we made.”

I push off from the doorframe, drawn into their bubble of warmth and normalcy despite myself. As I approach, Zeke’s hand brushes mine when he passes me a spoon to taste the sauce, and the simple contact sends electricity shooting up my arm.

This version of him—cooking, teaching my nephew, looking at me with unguarded affection—is more dangerous than any mafia boss could ever be. Because this Zeke? This one makes me want impossible things.

My stomach clenches.God, what am I doing?

This man is dangerous—not just because of his connections or his past, but because of how easily he’s slipping past my defenses. The way he looks at me, like I’m something precious to protect. The gentle authority in his voice as he instructs Leo. The casual intimacy of sharing his kitchen, his space, his life.

This isn’t just physical attraction anymore. This isn’t just convenience or protection. I’m falling in love with him. Again. Or maybe I never stopped.

Leo’s laughter pulls me from my thoughts as Zeke dabs sauce on his nose. This could be real. This could be ours.

But loving Zeke means accepting everything that comes with him—the violence, the danger, the constant shadow of his other life. It means putting not just myself but Leo at risk.

The warmth of his hand brushes mine again, and I can’t suppress the shiver that runs through me. His touch is both comfort and warning, promise and threat. Opening my heart to him could destroy everything I’ve built, everything I’ve sworn to protect.

Yet watching him with Leo, seeing this glimpse of what could be, makes me wonder if maybe the greater danger lies in denying what’s growing between us.

After Leo is tuckedinto bed, I slump onto the couch, my body heavy with exhaustion. The day’s events weigh on me like a physical burden—the victim’s lifeless body, that threatening text message, the constant shadow of danger.

“You’re carrying too much tension.” Zeke’s deep voice rumbles behind me. His strong hands settle on my shoulders, and I nearly moan at the first press of his thumbs into my knotted muscles.

“I’m fine,” I protest weakly, but my body betrays me, melting under his touch as he works the knots loose with practiced skill.

“Bullshit,” he says softly, his fingers finding a particularly tender spot that makes me wince. “Your shoulders are likeconcrete.” His thumbs work in slow, firm circles, and I let my head fall forward with a sigh.

“Let me fix you a drink,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. Before I can object, he’s moving to the kitchen, returning moments later with a gin martini—my favorite.

The first sip burns pleasantly, the familiar bite of gin mixing with the gentle warmth spreading from where his hands have resumed their work. His touch is different now—less clinical, more intimate. Each stroke of his fingers sends little sparks of pleasure down my spine.

“Stop thinking so hard,” he says softly, working his way up to the base of my neck. “Just feel.”

I close my eyes, letting the combination of alcohol and his skilled hands quiet the chaos in my mind. For these few precious moments, I don’t have to be Detective Landry. I don’t have to carry the weight of unsolved cases or worry about threats. Under Zeke’s touch, I can just be Eve.

The tension slowly eases out my muscles, replaced by a pleasant comfort. I take another sip of my martini, savoring the way it complements the peaceful sensation spreading through my body. For now, at least, the darkness can wait outside.

“When’s the last time you saw your friends?” he asks.

I have to think about it. Between the case, the wedding, and everything else, I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone socialize. “Too long,” I admit. “We usually do Friday night dinners, but—”

“But life got complicated.” His thumbs find a particularly tight spot at the base of my neck, and I can’t hold back a small moan. “What if we hosted them at the club?”

I twist to look at him, surprised. “The club?”

His dark eyes are warm, intimate. “There’s a private room. Good food, better drinks, complete privacy. No one would even know you were there.” His fingers trail down my arm, leavinggoosebumps in their wake. “You need a night to just be with your friends, Eve. To laugh, to relax.”

The offer is tempting. God, how long has it been since I’ve really laughed with Lydia and Olivia? Since we’ve shared a meal without worry creasing our foreheads?

“They’d be safe there,” he adds, reading my hesitation. “My security, my rules. No one gets near that room without my say-so.”