Page 42 of The Gentleman

“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.

20

Leo grittedhis teeth in the cab, hands shoved deep in his pockets where they couldn’t betray him.

London whipped past in the gray morning light.

A miracle. It wasn’t pissing rain.

Kat sat close enough that her scent invaded his space. She smelled like his soap. The thought of her in his shower, steam curling around her shoulders, made his fists ball.

He crushed it down.

Focus.This wasn’t about want.

The brakes groaned as the cab bumped to the curb.

The Copper Kettle squatted between glass-and-steel giants, its steamed-up windows and sagging green awning defiant. A sun-faded sign promised aFull English for £6.95!!The Platinum Club glittered across the street—sharp lines and polished chrome in contrast to the Kettle’s chipped brick and bacon smoke. Leo paid the driver and stepped out, tugging his collar against the chill morning air.

Kat joined him on the sidewalk.

“This is it?” she said, eyeing the building like it might lunge.

He nodded. “This is it.”

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