25. Chapter 25

25

W here the hell was she?

Soren sat at the head of the dining table, tapping his fingers and bouncing his leg. Anyone looking at him would have guessed that he was anxious or worried, to which he would have called bullshit.

He was irked, that's all. Peeved. A little miffed that he couldn't keep an eye on Ilaria in the way he should have been able to, since he flew all the way out to Chicago to protect her. And just because their plan required him to lie low didn't mean he had to like it. He preferred control; what was wrong with that? He had created the life he always wanted because he deliberately maneuvered the chess pieces around the board that was his life.

Soren MacGregor did not sit around and wait to be checkmated.

So, no, he was not feeling worried . He was merely eager to take back control of his chess board.

Though, he grudgingly acknowledged, ever since a certain gorgeous vixen had come back into his life, he was feeling very much not in control.

He had never been more distracted, for one. By a particular person, no less. Ilaria consumed his thoughts throughout the day; whether it was wondering what she was doing in any particular moment, feeling irked that he hadn't heard from her all day, or remembering how she felt under his hands and lips.

Even now, remembering how she had responded to his touch—yielding, submitting—had him growing hard.

And he wasn't sure he liked it. Oh, he definitely liked the feel of her soft lips opening at his demand, the sweet taste of her, and how his hand fit perfectly in the curve between her waist and hip.

What Soren didn't like was the lack of control. The unbidden thoughts, his barely restrained desire for her. He had worked his entire life to cultivate this control, and it was slipping through his fingers. Instead of focusing on his job and his priorities, he couldn't be sure he wouldn't throw it all away just to have one more taste of her.

And this was unacceptable to him. That he could be so weak as to fall prey to his baser desires and upend his carefully and deliberately constructed life.

He pushed himself out of his chair with a growl and paced. He needed to do what he came here to do and then go back to Scotland.

You are going to trust me. And when you do, we'll finish what we started.

His words came floating back to him. They'd finish it, alright. He'd make sure of it. And then he'd finally be able to call an end to this little irritating preoccupation he had with Ilaria.

At that moment, he heard the door unlock, and the source of all his frustration stepped over the threshold.

"Where the hell have you been?" Soren's voice was dangerously calm. A wild mix of relief and pent-up anger coursed through him. He had to keep himself from pushing her up against the wall and ravaging her.

Ilaria was still wearing the same blouse and slacks from this morning, which meant she had been at the office all day. Her shoulders immediately stiffened. "Executing our plan like we discussed," she answered in a clipped tone of her own.

Calm the fuck down. Finish the job.

Soren forced himself to sit back down at the table. "Give me an update."

Her clenched jaw made him wonder if she was going to refuse, but she also sat down—at the other end of the table, he noticed.

"I've set the bait with Vincent," she said. "He wants me to believe him, so he didn't seem too suspicious that I've appeared to change my mind all of a sudden about Galen."

He nodded. "Did he tell you anything about what he's planning?"

Ilaria made a face. She looked more tired than she did this morning. "Not yet, but I'll keep asking. He definitely has something planned, though." She drummed her fingers thoughtfully. "I have to play this right. He sees me as the grieving, vulnerable daughter right now."

Soren rose out of his chair to grab a bottle of water. He opened the top and handed it to her. She accepted it, looking mildly surprised.

"The grieving, vulnerable daughter could work in our favor," he said. He leaned against the kitchen counter. "Vincent won't tell you anything because he thinks you can't handle it, but that might give him a false sense of security. Which means he'll make a sloppy move and we'll be there to catch him."

He watched her take a long drink, her slender throat working as she swallowed. He tore his eyes away and stared at the generic fish painting above the television.

Ilaria recapped the bottle and crossed her legs. "He left shortly after we talked, so I don't know where he's been all day."

Soren gave her a look. "Rowan's on him." She nodded. "We're not amateurs, you know."

She frowned. "I didn't say you were."

"And you're not in this alone."

She frowned harder. "I know," she snapped.

"Then have some faith that I know how to do my job," he replied tersely.

Ilaria threw her hands in the air with a growl. "I never said you don't know how to do your job."

"But you were thinking it."

"How the hell would you know what I think?" She stared at him incredulously.

He looked at her with a mulish expression. He was in a bad mood and felt like dragging her into it.

She held up her hands in surrender. "Can we drop it and get back on topic?"

Soren pinched his lips together and gave a small nod.

"I called a family meeting for tomorrow morning," she continued. "Besides Silas and Vincent, Gia, Peter, and Elspeth will also be there."

"Remind me again who Gia, Peter, and Elspeth are?"

"Gia and Peter are my cousins, kids of my aunt, my dad's older sister. Elspeth is the daughter of my dad's cousin."

"Remember to ask for reports," he reminded her.

Ilaria rolled her eyes. "I know. I remember the plan." She would ask each of the leads in her family for detailed reports on every business they oversaw.

"And remember that I want to look at all of them."

She pinched her lips together, looking as if she wanted to lay into him. "Yes. That's the plan."

Soren breathed a little easier. Reports were good. He felt more in control when he was evaluating businesses. "Could Gia or Peter be threats?"

Ilaria cocked her head in thought. "I don't think so. Gia and I are close. And neither of them have ever seemed overly ambitious or resentful of your family. As long as their lifestyles are maintained, they'll be happy." She shrugged. "But anything's possible. I'll find out more after I see their reports."

He nodded. Not that he would ever be remiss about potential threats, but he was a little relieved to hear that her cousins were not likely ones.

"Vincent also said he had a meeting with his casino GM tomorrow," she added.

"Rowan will follow him."

"I'm going to sneak into his house tomorrow." She said it casually, like she was mentioning the weather.

Panic immediately rose in his chest. He pushed himself from the counter. "No." Sneak into Vincent's house? He would rather tie her to a chair.

She scowled. "What do you mean, ‘no'?"

"You're not going to sneak into Vincent's house," Soren declared. "Have you forgotten that he's the number one suspect behind your parents' deaths? He's dangerous." He wanted to shake some sense into her.

Ilaria scoffed. "And that's why I want to sneak into his house to look for clues on what he's up to." She spoke slowly as if speaking to a child. "He's not going to tell me anything, and I can't keep asking, or he'll get suspicious. It would be faster to look for evidence, and his home office is a good place to start."

The sense of danger on her behalf wrapped around his throat. "No," he repeated. "He could come home while you're there."

She smacked herself in the forehead with her palm. "Soren. I thought you said you weren't an amateur. You just said Rowan will follow him tomorrow. When Rowan confirms that he's at the casino, I'll go inside. And when Rowan says he's leaving, I'll leave."

Soren expelled a long breath. Was he being a little overprotective? No, better safe than sorry. "I'll go."

Ilaria rose from her chair and faced him. "No. You don't know what to look for."

He raised his brows and took a step toward her, towering over her. "I don't? I know more than you do what to look for." This woman was infuriating. A headache bloomed in his temples.

"I know what is legit paperwork and what isn't," she countered.

"What am I, a rookie?" he countered back. "So do I."

"What you are is exasperating and stubborn," she snapped.

"Yeah, well, pot, kettle."

They both fell quiet, staring daggers at each other. Soren felt as if steam was rising from the top of his head. Why can't she just do what I say?

"Fine," Ilaria said curtly. "We'll go together."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "You're not Nancy fucking Drew. Stop sleuthing. I'll do the sleuthing. Your job is to go about your normal day and let me know if he tells you anything."

She stared at him for several beats. "I have a key to his house. Either you come with me, or I go alone. It's your choice. But I'm perfectly happy to go alone, in case it wasn't obvious to you." Her eyes held a gleam of satisfaction. She had won this round.

He looked at her and shook his head. "You have no self-preservation instinct whatsoever." She grinned at him, and his stomach did a little flip.

The doorbell rang, and a few seconds later, Ilaria's phone beeped a text notification.

"Oh, that's the grocery delivery." She whirled around to open the front door.

"Hold it." Soren's voice rang out.

She paused and turned around with a look of exasperation on her face.

"I'll get the door," he announced. "We can't be too careful."

Ilaria gave an audible sigh and sat back down at the table.

Soren made a show of looking through the peephole. He heard a car door slamming and a car driving away.

"Aren't Murray and Wallace outside?" she asked, her brows raised. "And anyway, the driver is probably gone by now."

"Murray and Wallace are running an errand for me," he said, frowning as if she was yet again questioning his abilities. He yanked open the door, and a box of groceries was sitting on the doormat. He picked it up and kicked the door with his foot to slam it shut.

Ilaria eyed the box. "See, told you. Groceries."

"Why are you delivering groceries here?" he grumbled. "Are you planning to stay here now?" Which would be a terrible idea for his peace of mind.

"The groceries are for you," she replied, as if it should have been obvious.

Soren dropped the box on the counter with a thud. "And why are you buying groceries for me?" he asked cautiously. Did she care?

She raised her chin, her eyes flashing. "You bought me coffee this morning." She stopped there, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.

He wasn't following. "So?"

"So I don't want to be indebted to you."

If his hair could have caught on fire, it would have, he was so mad. He turned to her with a murderous expression, trying to decide whether to wring her neck or kiss it.

. "Indebted." He took a step toward her. "Indebted? Is that what this is? Are we keeping score now?"

Ilaria rubbed her forehead. "Can't we get through one conversation without arguing?"

Soren's eyes pinned hers. "Why did you feel indebted just because I bought you a coffee?"

She stared back with a stubborn jut of her chin and said nothing.

"Couldn't getting coffee for you just have been a nice thing to do?" He wasn't sure why he was so irritated.

"Not from you," she said under her breath.

He cocked his ear. "What was that?" He wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

"Not from you, okay?" she hissed. "You don't do ‘nice things.' Not for me, anyway. We don't have the kind of relationship in which you can buy me coffee and I can accept it at face value. Your ‘nice thing' has an agenda, or a double meaning. And since I don't know the rules to this ridiculous game, I'm going to even the score any chance I get. So I don't owe you and you don't owe me."

The fight went out of him. He turned back to the box on the counter, his stomach feeling hollow. "Okay then. Score is even." He opened the box and pulled out the items: eggs, bread, butter, milk, coffee, tea, biscuits, berries. All of it thoughtfully chosen staple items. He felt like an ass.

Ilaria went silent for several moments. Then he heard her get up, keys jingling. "I'm going to head home." Her voice was quiet.

Soren nodded without turning around, continuing to put the food in the refrigerator and pantry. "Murray and Wallace will follow you."

Her footsteps stopped by the front door. "I'll text you after my meeting tomorrow, when I leave for Vincent's house." She opened the door.

"Ilaria." He walked through the living room toward her.

She turned around.

"I didn't have an agenda with the coffee," he said. "But I know you have no reason to take my word for it. You have no reason to trust me. I just know this: I have an obligation to Galen, who has an obligation to you, to find out who killed your parents and to prepare you to lead your family's business. So I plan to do the job to the best of my ability, and I hope we can at least be civil to each other. Maybe even friendly. Whatever we need to do to make this job easier for both of us."

Ilaria scrutinized him and nodded slowly.. "I can do civil. I can even do friendly. Hell, that's what we decided, right? To be friends." She straightened her spine. "Then after the job is done, we can go our separate ways."

Soren's throat tightened. "Friends. Separate ways." He nodded in agreement even while the words rang bitter on his tongue.

Apparently satisfied with their truce, her face brightened, to his chagrin. "Night." She stepped outside.

Don't let her leave like this. The urge to stop her nearly overcame him, but he drew a tight leash on it. "Night. Will you text me when you get home? Just so I know."

Ilaria turned and smiled, making his heart clench. "Yep."