Page 50 of Damon

"Business?"

"Family meeting. Tommy's picking me up around two." He pauses. "Timo and Enea will be on the property while I'm gone."

"I won't see them though, right?"

"That's the point. They'll be watching the perimeter from the woods. You won't know they're there unless something goes wrong."

I nod. It makes sense that he'd have backup. I should have realized he wouldn't leave me completely alone.

"How long will you be gone?"

"Few hours. You'll be safe here."

"I know."

"There's food in the fridge if you get hungry," he says.

"I can cook, you know."

That gets his attention. He looks up, surprised. "You cook?"

"Papa insisted I learn. Said I needed to know how to take care of a household." The memory makes me smile slightly. "Though I think he pictured me cooking for my future husband, not for myself while hiding from people who want to kill me."

Something flickers across Damon's face. "What did you want to be? Before all this."

The question catches me off guard. "What do you mean?"

"If you weren't Roberto Bonacci's daughter. If you could be anything, do anything. What would you choose?"

I think about it. It's been so long since anyone asked me what I wanted instead of what was expected of me.

"A teacher, maybe. Elementary school. I like kids, and I'm good at explaining things." I pause. "That probably sounds stupid to you."

"No, it doesn’t. Why would you think that?"

"Because it's normal. Ordinary. Not very exciting for someone who thinks danger is attractive."

His smile is small but genuine. "Maybe ordinary isn't such a bad thing."

"Says the man who kills people for a living."

"Or a man who's starting to understand why people choose ordinary if they’re given a choice."

We're straying into dangerous territory again, the kind of conversation that acknowledges this thing between us might be more than just physical attraction.

I should change the subject. Keep things light and professional.

Instead, I ask, "What about you? What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"A cop."

I nearly choke on my coffee. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious. When I was eight, I wanted to be one of the good guys. Arrest the bad guys, protect people, serve justice." His laugh is bitter. "Funny how things work out."

"You do protect people in your own way."

"I protect my family's interests. That's not the same thing."