Page 35 of The Gentleman

A hard lump solidified in his stomach. He pressed his palm flat against the wood. “Kat?”

A long pause followed, then the lock clicked. The door opened a crack, and Kat peered out, looking uncharacteristically self-conscious.

“I’m fine.” But her eyes wouldn’t meet his and her mouth was too still.

She pushed the door wider, and Leo’s breath hitched. Her auburn hair—hair he’d imagined soft in his fingers during toomany sleepless nights—hung in uneven lengths around her face. Longer strands hung awkwardly at the back, the reach of her arms clearly limited. What looked like his nail scissors dangled from her right hand.

“Kat, what the fuck?” The words were out before he could temper them.

She stiffened, gripping the scissors tighter, knuckles white. “It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s a start.” She lifted her chin, defiant. “My face is on every screen in London. I’m taking control of what I can.”

Leo stepped back, giving her some space. Despite the haphazard cut, the shorter lengths accentuated her cheekbones, drawing attention to the intensity of her eyes.

Eyes that had haunted his dreams across continents.

“It needs work at the back.” His voice was gentler now he understood.

“Yeah.” She reached behind her head, fingers splayed in frustration. “I can’t see that bit.”

Leo held out his hand. “Give me those.”

She hesitated, then gave him the scissors. Their fingers brushed—the briefest contact—and heat shot up his arm. Muscles low in his back drew tight.Christ.She undid him with a simple touch.

“Kitchen.” He jerked his head toward the open-plan living area. “Better light in there.”

She followed him without argument. Kat Landon, who questioned everything, followed him now in silence.

He pulled one stool out from under the island. “Here. Should do the trick.”

She perched on the edge, spine straight, shoulders locked. He circled around her, taking in the damage. The recessed lights caught the sharp angle of her jaw, the tension in her mouth.

He stepped behind her, lifted a section of hair near her nape. His knuckles grazed her warm skin. She flinched—just a breath of movement—before going utterly still.

The scissors whispered open.Snip.

“Not my first-time playing hairdresser.” He lifted another section, scissors catching the light. “I was twelve when I shaved a racing stripe straight down Eli’s head.”

“Seriously?” Her voice softened, the edge smoothing away.

“He made the swim team. Was being an unbearable little shit about it.”

Snip.

“Mama lost her mind. Furious doesn’t even touch it.” He smiled, the memory landing softer than expected. “Made me wear a damn hat to school for a month. In July.”

A quiet laugh from her. It wound around his ribs, taking hold of him.

He trimmed a clean line near her ear. “Taught me a valuable lesson about consequences.”

“And your dad?”

Leo froze.

He never talked about his father. Not even with his brothers. But Kat’s stillness—like deep water that reflected everything back—stripped away his usual defenses.

“He died when I was a kid.” His voice came out flat. “Car crash.”

“That leaves a mark.” No pity. Just understanding. “Absence shapes you just as much as presence.”

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