Page 27 of Arrogant Bastard

His smile is a little wider. “Thank you, ma’am.”

I grin at her grudgingly surprised tone.

“You’ll see him from time to time. He may even attempt to become your shadow in certain situations. I’m sure you’ll forgive him for his future transgressions.”

That immediately draws a frown. “A bodyguard? No—”

“Hell, yes. Non-fucking-negotiable.”

She inhales sharply at my tone. Maybe she knows she won’t win this fight because she takes a sip of coffee before she speaks. “Can we talk about this?”

By talking she means fight, of course. “No, baby. We can’t. But there is something we can talk about. Once we’re done eating.”

Her breath snags. My grin widens. “Not that. Trust me, I’m done talking about that. It’ll be action from now on.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“There’s been another development. Betty’s popped up with a couple more names.”

She glances at Mitch, who is tidying up at the sink and then back at me. “He’s in the wider loop, but I prefer to discuss this in private. Eat.” I nod at her plate.

She doesn’t protest, probably because she’s hungry or because the omelet is that good. Either way, she finishes everything on her plate in silence.

“Want more?” I ask.

With a shake of her head, she pushes her plate away. “No, thanks. This was really great, Mitch. Thanks.”

Mitch smiles. “You’re wel—”

“Okay, don’t overdo it,” I snap. “It was good, but not that great.” I stalk to the fridge and grab two bottles of water. “We’re staying put this morning so I’ll see you later, Mitch.”

“Yes, boss.” As he walks away to put our plates in the dishwater, she sends me a mocking glance.

“Nothing wrong with complimenting the chef, is there, Mitch?” she asks, avoiding my gaze as she takes one bottle from me.

Mitch opens his mouth to answer, glances at me, and stays silent. A minute later, he hangs up his apron and leaves the apartment.

“You’re trying to bait me,” I say as we leave the kitchen. “That’s going to reap the exact results you claim not to want. I haven’t stopped being jealous when you smile and make nice with other men.”

Her steps slow, and her grip tightens around the bottle. When we enter the study, she stops, and we face each other in front of my desk. “Have you changed at all, Killian?”

I take a moment to answer. I want her to be in no doubt that I mean every word I say in response. “I foolishly thought that we could get through anything. Together. That what we had was strong enough. You leaving showed me I was wrong. You staying gone messed with my head. It took me a while to realize I’d taken us for granted. I’m not a good guy. But you want me and I want you. So this time around, I intend to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“Did it occur to you that I didn’t leave because of you? That I left because of me?” Her voice throbs with the depth of her feelings. Guilt. Remorse.

Some of that powers through me too. But never enough for me to deny wanting her. And therein lies our differences. She allowed her guilt to consume her. I buried it deep until it was nonexistent just so I could hang on tight to her. And I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

I step closer and trail my hand through her hair. I take it as a good sign that she doesn’t push me away. “Of course it did. But you don’t get it, do you? You don’t get to go off and live in your guilt on your own. If you want to face the past, we do it together.”

“If? I can’t just brush it away like—”

“Like I did?” When she refuses to answer or look at me, I slip my thumb under her chin and propel her gaze up. “It’s okay. You can say it.”

Her mouth works for a handful of seconds before she sucks in a breath. “He was your brother.”

“Yes.”

“He was my husband.”

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