Chapter 9

9

T he aroma of cooked vegetables greets me as I limp back downstairs, and a wave of relief washes over me that nothing smells burned. Caleb managed to salvage breakfast after all.

As I return to the kitchen, I find him spooning veggie scrambles onto two plates. It's not the omelets I planned, but it will do.

Caleb glances up as I enter, his well-defined body on full display with only his slacks on. The sight of him shirtless sends a shiver through me. I want to rub myself all over him.

Resisting the temptation, I sit on one of the stools at the island.

"Smells delicious," I say, trying to sound casual when my heart won't quiet after my little investigation.

"You started it, and I finished it. That's teamwork." He brings my plate over. "Did you find what you were looking for in my bedroom?"

Worried that I crossed a line, I freeze.

"Relax," Caleb says with a chuckle. "You're welcome to go into any part of the house."

"Really?" I ask, surprised by his nonchalance.

"Of course." He leans down, his deep voice caressing my ear. "You could have even tried on the cuffs if you wanted to."

Shock jolts through me, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment that he caught me in the act.

"Cameras, remember?" The warmth of his body envelops me. "But don't worry. Only I watch the footage from those. The Rockford family has private security, but they'll only access the ones in the bedrooms and bathrooms if they believe I'm in danger."

His breath against the shell of my ear makes me tremble, as does the thought of being watched. "So, they would have been watching if we had continued on the couch?"

Caleb's rumbling laugh vibrates through me. "They would have gotten a show. "

Feverish heat rushes through my veins, and I whimper.

A rumble rises from Caleb's chest. "You smell delicious."

Instead of continuing, though, he straightens and takes his plate, moving to sit on the stool beside me.

As we eat, I discover free-range does not improve the flavor of eggs, so I pick out all the veggies, only half paying attention. I'm too aware of Caleb's every movement, the way his lips close around his fork, and the warmth radiating from his body.

I take a deep breath, trying to distract myself from the desire coursing through my veins. "So, what do you do during the day when you're not on a job?"

Caleb shrugs, swallowing a bite of his scramble. "Hang out at home, watch movies, and work out. In the evenings, I make an appearance at one of the clubs or casinos so the media can take their pictures of me being a playboy."

I stiffen at the thought of him with other people, flirting and dancing. "Is that your plan for tonight?"

"Actually, yeah." Caleb wipes his lips with a napkin. "I have plans to go to the casino."

"Who's your date going to be?" I attempt to keep my tone light even though my chest hurts at the thought of him with someone else .

"Some model from France." He stabs a piece of egg off my plate and pops it into his mouth. "Can't remember her name."

"Let me guess." My hold on my fork tightens. "She's a blond, with large breasts and curvy hips?"

"Probably," Caleb chuckles, looking at me with amusement. "Are you jealous again?"

"No," I snap, a bit too fast.

"Sure looks like you are." He steals more of my breakfast.

My face burns, but I refuse to allow him to get the better of me. "I already know your type and that I'm not it."

"And I already told you they're not my type." Caleb's expression becomes indecipherable. "Do you want me to cancel?"

As much as I want him to, as much as I want to monopolize his time and attention, I shake my head. "No, you should go. It's important for your work to keep up appearances."

Caleb lets out a surprised laugh. "Any one of those models I escort would have demanded I cancel."

"Well, I'm not one of your arm candies." I push my plate over for him to finish. "If you need to trot celebrities around the cameras to stop people from figuring out what you're really doing, then that's what needs to happen."

He eyes me with suspicion. "You're very understanding."

I smile up at him. "Why wouldn't I be? It's not like you sleep with any of them."

Caleb's brows arch in challenge, his voice intrigued. "How are you so sure?"

The tattoo on his waist draws my attention, and I give in to the urge to trace the lines and curves decorating his tanned skin. "Because of this. If you were sleeping with all those models and actresses, one of them would have leaked a story about it by now."

Caleb leans into my touch as if he's been waiting for it all day. "And you've read every bit of information about me that they've posted, haven't you, my little obsessed Omega?"

Pulse tripping, I close the distance between our stools. "If you handcuff me to the bed before leaving, you better be home by midnight."

His warm, genuine laughter wraps around me like an embrace. "You think you have me all figured out, don't you?"

"Not everything." I trace the edges of his tattoo, tucking away this new piece of knowledge. "But I will. "

"Good," he murmurs, his expression darkening with something I can't quite name. "Because I plan on teaching you a lot more."

As we sit staring at each other, the last of our meal forgotten and growing cold, I wonder how deep this game between us will go. How many more secrets does Caleb have for me to uncover, and how much further will we push one another?

Only one thing is certain. If Caleb always comes back to me, I'll give him everything.

After breakfast, Caleb shows me into a study on the first floor, down a short hall, past the stairs. Dark wood paneling covers the walls, and a heavy desk sits at its center.

"I don't use this room, except for storage." He pulls out the high-backed executive chair and gestures for me to take a seat.

Butter-soft leather enfolds me, far nicer than anything I have back at my apartment.

Morning sunlight filters through the curtains, creating a golden glow around Caleb's broad shoulders and his red hair as he stands over me.

I stroke my hands over the padded armrests. " Why didn't you convert this to a home theater if you don't need an office?"

He shrugs. "I have a giant television and surround sound in the living room."

"Personal gym?" I suggest.

"That's in the basement." He leans down and opens a drawer, pulling out a slender laptop. He sets it on the desk in front of me. "I thought you might get some use out of the room."

Speechless, I stare at the sleek, shiny device. "You're letting me work?"

"I never intended to stop you from working on your VanishingVoice blog." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a USB drive. "My tech guy made a backup of your computer on this."

Focus on him, I curl my fingers around the small memory stick. "All of my files are on here?"

"Everything except your pictures of me." He leans down. "You don't need them when I'm standing in front of you."

I purse my lips. "What about when you're not standing in front of me?"

"Use your imagination until I return." His expression hardens. "But no more gossip columns about my family. "

"Why not?" I open the laptop and plug in the backup to format the computer.

He scowls. "Because that's what got you in this mess to begin with."

"My DynastyDish stories only got your family's panties in a twist." I tap the accept key to overwrite the hard drive. "My VanishingVoice blog is what put me on someone else's hit list."

His hand curls into a fist on the desk. "I'm handling that."

"Which I appreciate." I turn the chair to face him. "And wouldn't it be convenient if I was dealing with what's being said about the Rockfords? Because if it's not me, it will be another journalist . "

His head cocks to the side. "So you're offering to write articles for my family?"

"I could point attention in whatever direction you want, spin things to benefit you." I shrug. "It wouldn't be hard."

He considers the idea for a moment. "I'll talk to the others about it."

I check the empty drawer. "What about my cell phone?"

Caleb shakes his head. "You're not getting it back until we figure out who tried to kill you. It could be used to locate you. "

I nod in agreement, swallowing the disappointment. He's right, but it doesn't make it any easier. I haven't changed numbers since high school, and some small spark of hope keeps waiting for Dylan to call.

Caleb's hand settles on my shoulder. "It should only take a couple of days to track down whoever has been sending those death threats. If we're lucky, it will be the same person who took a shot at you last night."

"A couple of days," I repeat, my heart constricting at the thought.

As much as I want to be safe, the idea of leaving this place—leaving Caleb—hurts more than I care to admit. With the blackmail video, he can ensure I toe the line with whatever articles run in DynastyDish. There's no reason to keep me in his sights, invading his home.

Caleb's rough palm cups my cheek, pulling me from my thoughts, and he searches my face. "What are you thinking about?"

Will you kick me out? Will I go back to meaning nothing to you?

I choke down the questions and instead nod at his tattoo. "Does it have a special story to tell?"

Caleb glances down at his bare torso, as if he forgot for a moment about the black ink that covers his right side. "It's something all my brothers and cousins got when they turned sixteen. The clock represents our family, and the cogs symbolize how each of us plays a part in keeping it running."

"Did you choose to be the cog that kills people? Or did someone else decide that for you?" The question slips out before I can stop it, but an insatiable curiosity is what drove me to aim for a degree in journalism.

How did Caleb end up as an assassin?

He studies me for a moment, weighing his response. "It doesn't affect me the way it might others. So if it means protecting and bettering my family, I'm fine pulling the trigger."

I nod as I process this information.

Logic says I should be afraid of him, or even horrified, but my feelings for him remain unchanged. Maybe I am crazy, because being with a man who's willing to kill makes me feel safe.

I turn back to the laptop, see that the backup is installed, and access my email. "You know, I can just start a new folder filled with pictures of you. Or I can plaster them all over this office."

A warning rumble comes from him. "If you do, I'll take away your computer privileges."

"No, you won't. My work is too important to me." A message catches my eye from my contact at the local morgue, and my pulse quickens.

I click on it and suck in a sharp breath.

"Oliver?" Noticing my tense muscles, Caleb leans over me. "What's wrong?"

"It's a John Doe." My heart pounds hard as I scan the text. "A body came in that matches Dylan's description."