Page 25 of Gilded

Other kittens and cats hide behind the blinds on the windowsill, peeking through the slats like detectives.

Some have sleepy personalities, lounging and swishing their tails.

The young ones never seem to stop playing, and other kittens try to engage my calico, but he swats them away and eventually climbs on my shoulder and cuddles up to my face.

“Oh my God.” I close my eyes and kiss his little face. “That purr makes me feel all fuzzy inside.”

“Mmm,” Luka says around a sip of coffee. “I’ll have to learn to make that sound.”

I laugh and open my eyes, and the look on his face… The look on his face is one I’ve only seen at the galas when a man is particularly taken with a woman. That idea is too tempting to sink into. This version of the man is too easy to like. But his other side… No, I’m not interested in that at all.

I pet the kitten’s ears. “I never imagined a little creature like this could make me feel so good.”

“They’re amazing. They don’t live long enough, in my opinion. They should live as long as we do so we never have to suffer their loss.”

“So many of the women I meet at galas are absolutely in love with their animals. Often small dogs or cats. They spoil them with everything from human food to diamond-encrusted collars, but they aren’t always as generous to human beings who are truly hurting and needy.”

“Animals are like babies. They’re innocent. When it comes to people, it’s more complicated. And a lot of organizations spend more money on administrative costs than on the people they’re supposed to help. It makes giving to people and organizations a little trickier.”

“I’ve never thought about it like that.”

“Wealthy people are also often eccentric. There’s no accounting for their whims and pet projects.”

The kitten has tucked his paws under his body and closed his eyes. “How are you eccentric?”

He watches his coffee cup as he tips it in a circle. “I’ve never thought about that. I guess it would depend on what you consider eccentric.”

“Example?”

“I collect helicopters. All kinds. I’ve loved them since I was a kid, but I don’t know why. I can’t even fly them. I have two pilots. I’ve never cared to learn, but I really love choppers. Go figure.”

I smile, soaking in any little flicker of the man he tries to hide. “Where were you born?”

“South America.”

“What was your childhood like?”

“Poor.”

“Are you Hispanic?”

“Half. My mother was Italian.”

“Was?”

“My parents are dead.”

“Oh.” I’m stunned by the cold finality of the statement. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Was that recent?”

“No, they died when I was young.”

I immediately see him in a different light. “Can I ask how they died?”

“Home invasion.” His demeanor has gone flat. He’s slipped into that compartmentalization he talked about, but I still get hints that he’s lying.

“Is that what got you started doing this?”

“I had to do what I had to do to stay alive.”

“How old were you when they died?”

He hesitates. “Six.”

I sip a breath and hold it. I want all the details, yet I also want none. “That’s heartbreaking. Didn’t you live with extended family growing up?”

“There is no other family. I was on my own.”

“I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been.” I’ve spent plenty of time thinking about how I would live on my own if I ever got away from my father, but this is a whole different level of impossible. “Were you close with them?”

He nods, and his mouth tips in a sad smile. “Very close.”

I have no frame of reference for that. “Did you make your money in this business?”

He shakes his head. “Some, but mostly it’s from investing in real estate.

” He glances at me, and when he finds me rapt, he goes on.

“Growing up not knowing where your next meal will come from, or even if there will be a next meal, made me conservative. I saved every penny—literally. Over the years I’ve met people with knowledge of investing, and I’ve read a lot about it.

Most of my wealth comes from investing in real estate and having that real estate grow in value. ”

“Wow. A real rags to riches.”

He smirks. “I never thought about it like that.”

“You’ve clearly made a good life for yourself. Why keep doing this?”

“I’m sure you know what happens to people who go against your father. It’s inherent in this business. Trust is everything. Walking away creates the risk of exposing secrets.”

“So, you’re sort of a prisoner too.”

He glances at me and smiles, but it’s a strange smile, and it’s as hard to read as the emotions tumbling around inside him. He shakes his head and looks away, the way he does when he thinks something is too complicated to explain.

This is the closest I’ve felt to him, and I don’t want to lose it, so I change the subject. “Can you tell me about your men?”

The black-and-white cat is back, prowling the table, batting Luka’s cup. He unknots his tie and pulls it off, then unbuttons his top button and uses his tie to entertain the kitten.

“My core group and I met as kids.” A little darkness slides in and hovers around the edges.

“We needed each other, so we grew close fast. There’s something about being in a fight together for a common goal that makes bonding happen at lightning speed.

When you have each other’s back, when you’re willing to do anything to keep each other safe, you get close fast.”

“I wonder if that’s why I feel so close to you.”

His gaze darts up and holds on mine.

“I need you to get me through this…transition, and you’ve defended me against my father and Soren. It’s made me feel safe, I guess, in a life where I’ve never felt safe before.”

He waits for me to go on. When I don’t he says, “Are you going to ask me about last night?”

“The office or the bedroom?”

“Either.”

When I think of the bedroom, that gooshy warm sensation gathers at the center of my chest, and I don’t know how to talk about it, so I go with the office.

“I don’t care what you were doing in my father’s office.

Nothing about his business interests me, and if it came down to choosing sides, I’d choose yours. ”

The kitten tucks his head under my chin, and I laugh softly. “Oh my God, I’m in love.”

Across the room, a big, fluffy white cat lounges on the back of an upholstered chair with sleepy eyes. He looks lazy, but his tail is swishing like he’s restless.

“Look at that one.” I point out a big black cat nearby. “His face is all smooshed.”

“That’s a Persian.” He points out a gray-striped cat. “That’s a tabby.” Then a tan cat with dark ears, paws, nose, and bright blue eyes. “That’s a Siamese.” Then he smiles at me. “That’s it. That’s all I got.”

Across the room, an orange-striped kitten on a chair crouches, eyes intent on the tail of the white Persian on the ledge. He crouches and rocks back and forth, gearing up for a jump. Then he springs, only he’s too little to make it that far, and he drops to the floor mid-jump.

I burst out laughing, joining the others around me. Luka’s laughing too. And I love his laugh.

On the windowsill, two kittens snuggle up together to sleep. Right beside them, another is doing somersaults for some unfathomable reason. Another cat sits beside an empty metal food bowl, tapping it over and over like he’s calling a waiter.

Then the black cat Luka’s been playing with climbs onto his head, kneading his paws in Luka’s hair with a giant purr. I’m laughing when he pulls out his phone and says, “Watch this.”

He points his phone at the floor, creating a red dot that moves when the phone moves, and the cat on his head jumps down to chase the dot.

As Luka is moving the phone, the light jumps from the floor to a wall, and the cat leaps for it.

He hits the wall and tries to dig his paws into the drywall but ends up dropping to the floor.

The kitten just shakes it off while I’m doubled over laughing.

The entertainment is endless, and I have no awareness of time passing until the girl at the counter comes over and says, “We’re closing up. Do you want to take that little one with you? It’s just a quick form.”

When I look around, I find everyone has gone but me and Luka, and the smile on his face tells me he knew I was absorbed in the cats. The calico is still sleeping on my shoulder, and knowing I can’t bring him home breaks my heart.

“I want to, desperately, but I can’t. Thank you.”

When I stand, the kitten cuddles closer like he can’t bear to leave me. I reach up and carefully lift him off my shoulder. He lets out a squeaky cry in protest.

“Someone amazing will come and give you the perfect home,” I tell him, before giving him a kiss. “You deserve better than what you’d get at my house.”