Page 34 of Claws and Effect (Paranormal Dating Agency #87)

THIRTY-THREE

H alf an hour later with breakfast salvaged by Zyle’s culinary expertise, they spread financial reports across the kitchen island. Laykin’s tablet displayed the Summit council calendar as she sipped the perfect cup of coffee Zyle had guided her to make.

She glanced up to find him watching her instead of the reports, his expression softening in a way reserved solely for these private moments. The contrast never failed to fascinate her—how the ruthless businessman transformed in her presence. His eyes, normally sharp with assessment, now held warmth that made her heart stumble mid-beat.

Laykin slid her hand across the counter to cover his, a simple touch that still seemed to surprise him every time she initiated it. “What?”

“Nothing.” He turned his hand to interlace their fingers. “Just... this.”

The gesture spoke volumes from a man whose vocabulary rarely included such admissions. Laykin squeezed his hand, understanding the magnitude of what remained unspoken between them.

With reluctance, they returned to the investigation at hand, though their fingers remained linked as they reviewed the financial data.

“The money trail keeps disappearing into shell companies,” Laykin observed, tapping one report with her free hand. “Seven different jurisdictions, then nothing.”

“Someone knows how to cover their tracks,” Zyle agreed, his thumb absently stroking the inside of her wrist in a way that made concentration increasingly difficult.

She swiped to display the council calendar. “There’s a session tomorrow at Summit. All council members will be present, including Uncle Marcello.”

“Your uncle has been vocally against the treaty,” Zyle said carefully, studying her face rather than the tablet. “But according to our investigation, he doesn’t have the financial resources to hire mercenaries of this caliber.”

“I don’t think it him.” She frowned at the screen. “Marcello’s always been traditional and stubborn, but he’s family. I can’t imagine him trying to have me killed regardless of his stance on the treaty.”

Zyle lifted their joined hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles that somehow conveyed more support than words could express. The gesture—tender, protective, understanding—made her throat tighten with emotion.

Before she could respond, his phone buzzed with an incoming message. His expression darkened as he read the screen.

“Emergency at the downtown office. Tokyo acquisition hit regulatory issues.”

“Go,” she urged, leaning across the island to brush her lips against his cheek. “I have some research to do here anyway.”

She watched the transformation—both fascinated and a little saddened by it. His shoulders squared, jaw firming as he mentally donned the armor of Zyle Rubin, CEO. Within twenty minutes, he stood before her in a perfectly tailored suit, every element of the man who’d laughed in his kitchen now hidden behind an impeccable facade.

Almost every element.

When he bent to kiss her good-bye, his lips lingered against hers longer than necessary, his hand cupping her face with a gentleness that belied his formal appearance.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” he promised, thumb brushing her lower lip in a caress that sent heat spiraling through her body.

“I’ll be here,” she replied, her voice embarrassingly husky.

Something primal flashed in his eyes before he stepped back, visibly reclaiming his control. “Try not to flood any more appliances while I’m gone.”

Laykin laughed, loving these glimpses of the playful man emerging beneath his serious exterior. “No promises.”

She followed him to the door, sliding her arms around his waist from behind in a quick hug that made him pause mid-stride. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, as if unsure how to respond to the casual affection. Then his hands covered hers where they rested against his stomach, holding her arms in place.

“I could get used to this,” he said quietly, the admission clearly costing him.

“That’s the plan,” she replied, pressing her cheek against his back, breathing in his scent one more time.

When he finally drove away, Laykin watched until his car disappeared, surprised by the hollow feeling in her chest at his absence. She’d spent her entire adult life self-sufficient, duty-bound, and independent. When had this man become so essential to her happiness?