Page 16 of Damon

"Morning. Coffee?"

"Please."

I pour her a mug and slide it across the counter, making damn sure our fingers don't touch. "Sleep good?"

"Fine." She takes a sip and makes this little sound, half moan, half sigh, that goes straight to my dick. "This is good coffee."

"Italian roast."

"Of course it is." There's amusement in her tone. "You do everything with style, or just the coffee?"

I glance up from the eggs I'm scrambling. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"This place." She gestures around the kitchen with its granite countertops and professional-grade appliances. "The car you drove me here in. Even your gym downstairs. Everything's expensive, everything's perfect."

"I like quality."

"Or you like showing off."

"Maybe both."

She laughs, and fuck me, she looks even younger when she does that. More innocent. Reminds me exactly how screwed this situation is.

"What?" she asks, noticing my expression.

"Nothing." I turn back to the eggs. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

I finish the eggs and toast, setting a plate in front of her before taking the stool across the island.

"Thank you," she says, taking a bite. "It's good."

"You sound surprised."

"A little. I didn't expect..." She trails off, looking embarrassed.

"What?"

"I didn't expect you to take care of me."

"Don't get used to it. This shit's temporary, and I'm not taking care of you. I'm keeping you breathing."

"Same thing."

"No, it's fucking not."

She studies my face like she's trying to crack some code. "Why are you doing this? Really?"

"I told you. Someone tried to kill your family."

"No." She cuts me off. "I mean why you? You're important in your family, right? You could've sent someone else to babysit me. So why are you here?"

Good fucking question. One I've been asking myself since I grabbed her from that club.

Truth is, I volunteered. When my old man mentioned that Roberto's daughter was missing, when the plan started forming to find her and use her as leverage to prevent a war, I could've delegated. Should've delegated.

But the thought of anyone else putting their hands on her, anyone else being responsible for keeping her safe, made something fucking primal claw at my gut.