Page 7 of The Hitman

Chapter Five

Callie

J axon makes himself scarce the week after our interaction in the tent. He’s gone later every night, exhausted when he comes home, and he’s been ominously distant.

Now, more than ever, I get the sense he’s hiding something, but Leo’s smiling again and excited about his studies.

I don’t want to lose all the progress we’ve made just because my boss is acting weird, so I tuck my curiosity away for the time being and focus on being the best nanny I can be for them both.

After finishing a sad excuse for a late-night snack—avocado toast and a clementine—I mindlessly spray the counter with a lemon-scented cleaner.

Technically, I’m not supposed to be in this part of the house when I’m not working. But my little kitchenette feels cold and isolating, and tonight… Well, I was hoping for some adult interaction. To feel like Jaxon’s equal in this empty palace in the sky instead of just another hired hand.

I want to ask if I can join him and Leo for dinner sometime instead of eating alone at my desk every night. But it’s after eleven, and he hasn’t emerged from his office since he got home four hours ago.

It’s difficult not to be bothered that he’s never even brought it up. Then again, I guess it makes sense. I’m the nanny , not family or even a friend.

I’m here to fill a temporary role.

Yet despite knowing this, every night, I find myself lingering in the hallways longer than necessary. Waiting for an invitation that never comes. Wanting something I’ve never really had before, and something I have no business yearning for now.

The worst part? I think about Jaxon too much to be considered professional. About the undeniable attraction or the intensity that sharpens when it’s just the two of us breathing the same air.

Given the whole palm kiss thing, I know he felt it, too. And yet, he continues to avoid me. He keeps our conversations short, cordial at best, and then disappears.

I duck under the sink to put the cleaner back, and when I stand, my thin sleep shirt snags on the drawer beside it.

The rip of cheap fabric tears through the silence.

“Seriously,” I mutter while wrestling it free.

When I go to shove the drawer shut, something inside makes me pause.

A small black button inside the lip of the drawer, just visible under the edge, catches my attention. My heart stutters as I glance around to see if anyone’s watching, but there’s no sound or movement. Just the hum of the fridge behind me and my own fraying nerves.

The tip of my finger grazes the button, and my reckless curiosity wins out. I press it, hearing a soft mechanical click before the bottom of the drawer splits open like a mouth.

I stumble back, a strangled yelp escaping before I can choke it down.

“What the hell?” I breathe.

Eyes wide, I slowly approach the open case, where a black gun and a full clip are neatly tucked inside a bed of velvet.

Before I can process what I’m seeing, footsteps approach from down the hall.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

In a panic, I slam the drawer closed. The secret mechanism locks seamlessly, swallowing the evidence like it never appeared in the first place.

I quickly tuck the torn bottom of my shirt inside the waistband of my pajama pants, ready to bolt.

The steps halt abruptly, and when I spin for the exit, I come face to face with a shadow blocking my way out.

Jaxon.

He doesn’t speak, and in his silence, the weight of him fills the space, heavy and unrelenting. The buttons at the top of his shirt are undone and his hair is ruffled on one side, like he’s been tugging on it.

Even still, swathed in darkness and suspicion, he’s devastatingly handsome.

“Nothing,” I blurt, even though he didn’t say a word. “I was doing nothing. And now I’m going to do more nothing in my room. Where I belong.”

I try to slip past him, but he blocks me with a hand on my shoulder.

Strong, firm, and sexy. That’s how’d I’d describe Jaxon Knight’s hands.

His gruff voice glides over me, raising a shiver from my bones. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Slowly, reluctantly, I lift my gaze.

His eyes rake over me, sharp and unreadable, like he’s probing the fractures in my poorly put-together facade.

“I was just having a snack before heading back to bed.”

As if just now remembering where we are, he glances at the kitchen.

“I know you’re going to remind me that I have food on my side of the house.” I lift my shoulders. “And you’d be correct. But I just thought…”

The conversation I’ve rehearsed about accompanying him for future dinners dies on the tip of my tongue.

“You thought what, Miss Finley?”

Jaxon patiently waits for me to elaborate, but the words are wedged in my throat.

Sure, not having a loving family, a career, or any friends kind of sucks.

But telling my boss I was hoping to see him tonight sounds borderline pathetic—and regardless, do I really want to spend time with the kind of man who hides weapons in his house?

“Never mind. I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Knight.”

I don’t get far before his deep baritone stops me. “Would you like to have a drink with me, Callie?”

My fists curl at my sides.

I am putty in this man’s hands and helpless to find the spine I need to resist him.

“Sure.”

I cave too quickly to be considered even remotely smooth, and I blame the bundle of nerves in my stomach for it.

“Great. I’ll make us something.”

Jaxon moves through the living room before disappearing behind the glass partition of his beautifully crafted koi pond. Water trickles over the glass, and his silhouette ripples behind it while the soft sound of clinking glasses and a cork popping beckon me to follow.

I step into a cozy lounge nook with an electric fireplace that casts a faint reflection from the Edison bulbs in a modern chandelier. A green velvet couch curves around the space like a subtle invitation, and the full bar gleams under the soft lighting.

“Preference?” he asks with his back to me.

His rolled sleeves and thin shirt reveal just enough muscle to make my already-dry throat feel like sandpaper.

Not much of a drinker, I shake my head, and say, “Surprise me.”

“All right then. Gentleman’s choice.”

A dimple creases his cheek when he turns over his shoulder, and I can’t help the thrill that comes from knowing I put it there.

He pours a dark, amber liquid into a crystal glass before filling the one beside it. He carries them over to where I linger at the edge of the room, like I’m afraid to commit to what we’re doing here—blurring lines, that is.

I take the drink he offers once he approaches. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

My toes curl under my baggy pajama pants when they capture his attention.

“What should we cheers to?” he asks, all gruff and rumbly, like a bad boy with a hidden agenda.

The wall of city lights below makes a beautiful backdrop to the man before me. Dressed in all black, Jaxon reminds me of a spy from an action movie.

Dark. Dangerous. Devilishly handsome.

The weapon I discovered just moments ago pulses through my mind, a reminder that Jaxon is potentially dangerous.

Still, something in me resists the panic.

My instincts don’t sense a threat where he’s concerned, and instead of demanding answers or running back to my old life like I should, I find myself toasting to the unknown, strangely hesitant to cut ties with him.

“How about your sister?” I say sincerely. I touch the rim of my glass to his. “May she be fully healed and able to return to Leo soon.”

He tenses, and for a brief moment, I sense him carefully pick me apart, analyzing my expression, posture, and tone for manipulation or truth.

“To Isa,” he says, settling on the latter.

The alcohol burns my tongue before igniting the back of my throat. I cough dramatically, wheezing while trying to catch my breath. “ Horrible. ”

Jaxon doubles back to the bar and the mini fridge filled with bottles of water, and when he returns, he replaces my drink with one.

“Baby’s first whiskey?”

The embarrassment dissolves almost instantly. I grin at him after taking several swigs of water. “Yeah. That’s what I get for trying to be cool.”

He laughs then, warm and sexy. “You don’t have to try.”

My ears heat with a blush when he gestures for me to follow him further into the room. He lifts a small remote off the glass coffee table, and with the click of a button, the fire comes to life behind its glass casing.

Another click has soft jazz floating through the room and the velvety notes have me beaming like mad. “How’d you know I love Sinatra?”

His surprised expression makes me laugh. It’s fun to rattle him.

“I didn’t.” The warm glow in the room flirts with his stoic features, softening them by the minute. “But I’ll admit, any woman who loves Frank is a ten in my book.”

My hips sway, my skin buzzing with every silken sung line as I gradually let myself relax. I quirk a brow at him. “Care to dance, warden?”

Jaxon sets his glass on the table, surprising me by extending his hand to mine. “And here I thought you’d be too afraid to ask.”

His hand encompasses mine, rough with callouses and knuckles that carry deep scars. Details I find suspicious for a billionaire day trader, and yet another red flag to add to the ones I’m ignoring.

“It takes a lot to spook me,” I say.

“That’s why I like you.” The soft amusement on his lips steals my breath as he slowly drags me toward him. His embrace is a symphony of suspense and allure, making my heart race. “You’re not afraid of a challenge. You take risks. You’re feisty, funny, and Leo adores you.”

A swooping sensation cascades from my head to my toes as he moves with me, setting the pace.

Did he mean that he and Leo adore me?

My head swims at the possibility.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” I say dizzily. “You’ve been avoiding me— us —all week.”

Being chest to chest with my boss makes my footing awkward at first, but soon enough, we’re circling the couch, dancing past the city below while our bodies lead the way.