Page 19

Kat surfaced from sleep, the air rich with the scent of leather. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t place where she was. Then Leo’s phantom heat pressed against her memory, solid as the empty couch beneath her.

Leonid.

Gone. The cushion beside her was still indented and warm. He hadn’t been gone long.

Memory returned in shards—gunfire, Leo’s hands on her waist, the taste of adrenaline and want.

She sat up, stretching stiff muscles. Sunlight cut through half-drawn drapes, catching dust motes that hovered like golden ash.

The rain that had hammered London for days had stopped.

Her thoughts drifted to Leo.

Years of careful distance, gone in one night.

Her training screamed warnings about attachment, but they were hollow against the memory of his mouth on hers.

In the shower, hot water pounded the tension from her shoulders. Which man would she find this morning—the one who’d held her, or the operative who kept everyone at a distance?

When she emerged, wrapped in a plush towel, she found a shopping bag placed neatly on the bed.

Inside, she found simple toiletries and precisely folded clothes. A cashmere sweater in moss green, soft jeans, boots worth more than her monthly salary. And beneath it all—deep teal silk and lace.

He’d chosen these colors specifically for her skin. Heat flooded her cheeks.

Everything fit perfectly. Of course it did.

In the kitchen, Leo stood with his back to her as he wrestled with an espresso machine, fresh shirt open at the collar. His shoulders tensed when he sensed her presence.

Kat let her gaze linger for a second longer than necessary.

Damn, he made control look effortless.

“Morning.”

He turned, eyes dropping to the sweater he’d chosen before snapping back to her face.

“Coffee?” His voice was too casual.

“Yes. Thanks.” She perched on the stool and fiddled with her watch strap. “And... thank you for the clothes.”

“Couldn’t have you running around London in yesterday’s clothes. Too identifiable.” He slid a steaming cup of coffee toward her. “Pastry? You should eat.”

A white bakery box sat open on the counter, rich with the scent of butter and sugar. Her stomach growled.

“You’ve been busy this morning.” She took a cautious sip. Delicious. Of course.

Leo shrugged. “Standard operational protocol. Food, fresh clothes. Necessities.”

The words landed like a slap. She’d been a necessity. Nothing more.

“Right.” She reached for a croissant. “Very efficient.”

He looked at her and something flickered behind his eyes—regret? Then it was gone.

“Brock confirmed our meeting. We leave in twenty.”

Kat nodded, barely tasting the croissant. The night’s closeness had evaporated. Whatever they’d shared had slipped behind a locked door. All she could do was watch him double-bolt it.

He checked his watch, his phone. No wasted motion. No sign of the man who’d held her like she meant something.

Twenty minutes later, they stood side by side on the curb, the space between them colder than the wind.

“After Brock, we’ll need to move quickly,” he said, scanning the street. “If Eldridge is involved with Korolov, we’re dealing with more than just a frame job.”

“I know.” She almost reached for him. Almost. “I’ve been at this a long time too, Leonid.”

The cab pulled up, and he opened the door for her, his hand settling briefly at the small of her back—light and efficient, but the heat of it burned through her sweater.

As they pulled into traffic, London blurred past—gray and unforgiving as the distance Leo had rebuilt between them.

She finally knew what she wanted.

Whether she’d get the chance to fight for it was another matter entirely.