Page 11 of Sinful Like Us
“He can’t protect you if you don’t let him.” Thatcher cups my cheek, and I can practically hear my heavy heartbeat. He tells me, “There’ll be times where you have to rely on Tony. I can’t be with you when I’m on-duty protecting Xander, and you’re not always going to be around Banks, Maximoff, and Farrow.” He trusts them to look out for me when he can’t. “Your safety is what matters. Above everything.”
I loosen my grip on my phone. “What if I requestminimaltouch? Only when absolutely necessary?”
Thatcher nods once. “That works.” He stands up, his hand never leaving my cheek, and he places a knee on the mattress.
My phone lights up next to his knee and buzzes on the duvet. A text message blinks on the screen, but it isn’t from Tony.
Your mom and I are on our way. We need to talk.– Dad
2
THATCHER MORETTI
This isa weird position to be in. Days ago, Connor Cobalt and Rose Calloway knew me as a professional, stringent bodyguard. Nothing more.
Today, I’m the man that’s been dating their daughter.
Flipping that switch isn’t just turning on and off the lights. It’s going from pitch-black darkness to a neon-fluorescent disco.
I’ve been mentally preparing to face two pissed-off parents just looking out for their kid. Hell, if I had a daughter, I’d probably lay into the fuckbag who secretly hid their relationship from me. Sneaking around—not a great look to impress the parents.
I just want to make it right.
Unfuck this fucked situation and start on solid ground.
But I’m standing in front of Connor Cobalt—a man who literally was on the cover ofForbesthis month—and I realize that anything I say could bury me deeper.
The fridge hums, ice machine gurgling in tense silence. The cramped kitchen feels more compact with another man over six-feet here. But I have three-inches on Connor.
And still, I don’t think a single person could walk in this room and tell.
Jane’s dad stands like he owns the world. Expensive slacks and navy-blue button-down, a Cartier watch on his wrist that probably costs more than my uncle’s row house. He has billion-dollar energy that screamsI’m better than you.
Arrogant.
Poised. All the way down to the look in his eyes and posture. How he leans back against the cabinets, hands casually careened on the counter.
In the past, in a professional setting—conversing over security matters—Connor has been approachable and easy-going. But I understand he’s no less deadly than the woman he married. The only difference is that Rose shows you her dagger, and he keeps his behind his back.
Silence mounts.
I’m in foreign territory, but it wouldn’t be the first time. I check on Jane. On instinct. I glance through the kitchen archway and see her on the pink loveseat, talking quietly to her mom. Jane catches my eyes and gives me an encouraging nod.
“Do you want to offer me a drink?” Connor asks, pulling my attention. “Water, lemonade, bourbon? You live here now, so I’m to assume you can act as a host.”
Fuck all things to hell. I nod towards the fridge. “Would you like a drink?” I ask. “I can get whatever you want.”
“Not right now. But I appreciate the offer, even delayed and obviously coerced.”
He’s not going to make this easy.
That’s fine.I can shovel myself out of the grave I’m in, and I add, because I think it’s an important detail, “I’ve only been living here for less than an hour, sir.”
Connor doesn’t even pause. “You’ve been sleeping with her for much longer than an hour.”
Holy fuck.
My features harden to stone.
