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"Is that what you felt like last night? A prisoner?" His eyes darken.
I think about his hands on my skin, the way I'd begged for more. "No," I admit. "But that doesn't change what this is."
"And what is this, Evelyn?" He takes the coffee cup from my hands, sets it aside.
"I don't know," I whisper. "But I'm scared to find out."
Noah finishes his coffee and sets the mug on the nightstand. His face shifts, that mask of indifference sliding back into place.
"I need to go to the Ferettis today," he says. "Meeting about the finger."
My stomach twists. In the haze of last night, I'd almost forgotten about Ivan's gruesome message. The pancakes suddenly feel heavy in my stomach.
Noah stands, stretching his arms above his head. The movement makes his muscles ripple beneath his skin. "Should take a few hours."
"I want to come with you." The words tumble out before I can stop them.
Noah freezes mid-stretch. "No."
"But this is about me. If Ivan is hurting people because of me?—"
"It's way too dangerous." His voice is flat, leaving no room for argument. "The Feretti compound isn't a concert hall, Evelyn. It's where people like me discuss killing people like Ivan."
"I'm already involved." I push the breakfast tray aside and climb out of bed, wrapping the sheet around me. "If someone is being hurt because Ivan wants me?—"
"Then you're exactly where you need to be." Noah steps closer, his hands gripping my shoulders. "Safe. With me."
"I'm not a child."
"No, but you're not equipped for this world." His eyes soften slightly. "You play violin, Evelyn. I kill people. Those are very different skill sets."
I want to argue, but I know he's right. What would I do at a mafia meeting? Perform Paganini while they discuss murder?
"Matteo will come stay with you," Noah says, his tone gentler now. "Keep you company."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"No, you need protection." Noah's thumb traces my collarbone. "And right now, that's with me and Matteo."
I step away from his touch, needing space to think clearly. "Fine. But I want updates. If that finger belongs to someone I know?—"
"I'll tell you everything when I get back." Noah reaches for a shirt hanging on the back of a chair. "Promise."
I watch him dress, transforming from the man who held me last night into something harder, colder. The Noah who's going to this meeting isn't the same one who brought me breakfast in bed.
"Be careful," I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it.
Noah pauses, halfway through buttoning his shirt. For a second he looks genuinely surprised. Then his lips quirk into that dangerous half-smile.
"Careful, Evelyn. Someone might think you care."
"Care?" I scoff, clutching the sheet tighter around me. "Don't flatter yourself. I just don't want to be left alone if Ivan's men find this place while you're gone."
Noah's smile widens but it doesn't stretch to his eyes. "Right. Self-preservation."
"Exactly." I turn away, pretending to search through the shopping bags he brought home yesterday. "I'm practical, not sentimental."
"Is that what you were being last night? Practical?" His voice drops lower, sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine.