Chapter Six
Chloe was halfway through sorting the next stack of résumés when the main door banged open hard enough to rattle the temporary light fixtures.
“Oh, fabulous,” she muttered.
Her half-sister, Danica, swept in, mistaking the construction zone for a red-carpet premiere.
Her glossy high ponytail could’ve blinded someone, her lashes were long enough to create wind current, and her outfit—some kind of slinky designer set in blush pink—was about as appropriate for the dusty renovation site as stilettos on a hiking trail.
“Chlo-eee,” she sang, dripping faux sweetness that always meant incoming chaos.
Chloe forced a tight smile. “You’re late.”
Danica dismissed this with a flick of her manicured wrist. “I had a facial. Emergencies happen.”
Yes, Chloe thought, for people who confuse exfoliation with crisis management.
Before she could redirect her sister toward literally anything helpful, Danica spotted Kayne. More accurately, she zeroed in on him like a heat-seeking missile, instantly transforming into a predator who’d scented fresh prey.
“Ohhh.” She practically purred it. “Well, hello.”
Kayne glanced up from the hallway wall, where he was going over something with the contractor. His expression didn’t change. He looked calm, polite, and totally unreadable. Chloe felt her skin tingle anyway.
Danica sashayed closer, hip angled, giving a smile she’d perfected in a mirror somewhere. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
Kayne nodded once. “Kayne Serruto.”
“Mmm.” Her eyes lit with interest. “Southern. I can hear it.”
He didn’t blink. “Louisiana.”
“Delicious,” she breathed, inching closer. “I’m Danica. I work here.”
Barely, Chloe thought.
Kayne’s mouth tipped up. “Do you?”
Danica preened. “Of course. I’m part of the leadership team.”
Chloe accidentally snorted.
Danica ignored her and drifted even closer, trailing her fingers along Kayne’s biceps as if she was inspecting merchandise. “Wow. You’re . . . solid.”
“Danica!” Chloe hissed.
“What?” Danica blinked innocently. “I’m just being friendly.”
Kayne stepped back subtly, a gentleman’s version of “no, thank you,” which Danica absolutely refused to register.
“So,” she said, lashes fluttering, “are you part of the construction crew, Kayne? Is that how you got those amazing muscles?”
Kayne glanced at Chloe. Something warm, wicked, and protective flashed in his eyes.
He turned back to Danica. “I’m Chloe’s boyfriend.”
The world stopped. Chloe stopped. Her heart flatlined, restarted, then took off as if it were late for a connecting flight.
Danica blinked. Hard. “I’m sorry—what?”
Kayne hooked his thumbs casually in his pockets, looking every inch the confident, quietly lethal man he was. “Her boyfriend,” he repeated mildly. “We’ve been seeing each other.”
Seeing each other.
Chloe let out a soft, startled squeak she would deny on her deathbed.
Danica’s mouth fell open in outrage. “Since when?”
Kayne’s gaze drifted back to Chloe, sliding over her in a way that made her knees consider abandoning their duties. “Since recently,” he said. “But it’s going well.”
“Oh, my God,” Chloe whispered. Heat crawled up her neck as if it were training for Everest.
Danica gaped. “You? With him?”
The tone implied Chloe had tackled Kayne, tied him up, and forced romance upon him against his will.
Kayne only smiled. “She’s pretty irresistible.”
Chloe was going to pass out.
Danica folded her arms. “Well, that’s unexpected.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Kayne said, as if he genuinely meant it.
Chloe floated outside her body, observing all this from a comfortable emotional distance because her physical form was busy spontaneously combusting.
Danica recovered quickly—Giordano women were resilient when scandal-adjacent—and narrowed her eyes at Chloe with pure sisterly accusation. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“I—uh—well—” Great. Now she’d lost the ability to form words.
“We’ve kept it private,” Kayne supplied smoothly.
Danica looked between them, confused, annoyed, maybe begrudgingly impressed. Finally, she tossed her hair and sniffed. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll be in my office. Working.”
“Working?” Chloe echoed faintly.
“Yes,” Danica snapped, and flounced away.
Chloe waited until her sister vanished before rounding on Kayne in a whisper-yell. “What was that?”
Kayne shrugged, polite and maddeningly calm. “Our cover story.”
“That was not a cover story,” she hissed. “That was a full-length romantic subplot!”
“You needed me to play the part,” he said evenly. “I played it.”
Chloe pressed a palm to her forehead. “You told her you’re my boyfriend, not someone I’m casually seeing.”
His eyes warmed in a way that made her chest flutter like a kicked beehive. “I’ll tell whoever I need to, cher.”
Chloe nearly melted through the floor. Not figuratively. Literally. She was officially one heartbeat away from becoming a romantic puddle.
#
Kayne leaned against the doorframe of Chloe’s office and watched her attempt to straighten a stack of papers she’d already reorganized three times.
Her cheeks were still flushed, her hands unsteady. He could practically hear her heartbeat skittering like a trapped hummingbird trying to claw its way out of her ribs.
Hell, he shouldn’t enjoy this, but he absolutely, shamelessly did.
“I can’t believe you said that,” she muttered, flipping the same résumé over for the fourth time. “You can’t just announce things like that, Kayne.”
“When your sister’s hanging off my arm like a moss-covered vine?” he said dryly. “Sure I can.”
She shot him a glare that didn’t land, mostly because her blush ruined any chance of severity. “You told her we were in a relationship.”
“Mm,” he said, because the sound alone made her twitch. “That I did.”
“Kayne.” She pointed a trembling finger at him. “That was not part of the plan.”
“It’s the cover story Leo asked for.”
“No, Leo said, ‘pretend to date her for optics,’ not ‘declare your undying devotion during my sister’s mating dance.’”
Kayne’s mouth twitched. It was subtle, but impossible to hide.
She noticed.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, eyes widening. “You’re laughing at me.”
His expression stayed neutral. “No, Chloe, I’m not.”
“You so are!”
He crossed his arms. “What I am doing is making sure your sister doesn’t latch on to me and ask questions you don’t want her asking.”
She groaned and dragged both hands over her face. “She’s going to tell everyone.”
“Good,” he said, unbothered.
Her hands dropped. “Good?”
“Better to have a consistent backstory.” He paused. “Plus, it keeps her off me.”
Chloe sputtered. “She’s not that bad.”
Kayne arched a brow. “She tried to climb me like a human ladder.”
Chloe made a strangled sound that might have been mortification. Or laughter. Possibly both. “She’s just . . . friendly.”
“Sure,” he murmured. “Friendly.”
Her cheeks flushed hotter. It was impressive, as if he was watching dawn break across her skin. “You okay?” he asked softly.
She lifted her chin with heroic denial. “I’m fine.”
He smiled unhelpfully. “You don’t look fine.”
“I’m not flustered.”
“You are.”
“I am not.” Her voice cracked. “I’m busy.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m sorting papers.”
“You’re sorting the same paper.”
She glanced down, made a helpless little sound, dumped the stack onto the desk, and backed up until she bumped into the wall of plants behind her.
Kayne tried, he truly did, not to enjoy how adorable she looked when she was cornered. He failed spectacularly.
“Look,” she said, breathless. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“You wanted a cover story,” he reminded her. “I gave us a good one.”
“There are levels, Kayne.”
He shrugged. “I picked the most effective one.”
“You said we were a couple!”
He took one step closer. He wasn’t touching her, not yet. But he was close enough that her breath hitched anyway.
“And you didn’t deny it.”
Her mouth fell open. “I—because—Danica—”
He let the quiet stretch, unhurried.
“Relax, cher,” he murmured, voice dipping low. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”
Her eyes darted away. “Too late.”
He leaned one shoulder against the wall beside her, hands loose, posture easy. “You want me to walk it back? Tell her I misspoke?”
She froze. Then, too quickly said, “Yes. Obviously. I mean—yes.”
But her tone betrayed her. So did the subtle flash of disappointment she couldn’t quite hide.
Kayne saw it, but he didn’t comment on it. He just filed it away in that quiet place he kept for things worth revisiting.
“I’ll handle it however you want,” he said. “This is your call.”
They both knew it wasn’t.
Chloe’s throat worked. “We’ll figure it out.”
He nodded. “Whatever you decide.” As long as it’s what I determine is best.
She looked up at him, something vulnerable shining in her blue eyes. “Why are you being so nice?”
He tilted his head. “I’m not being nice.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m doing my job.”
She blinked. “Your job isn’t to—”
“My job,” he said quietly, “is to stay close. Blend in. Keep people from looking too hard at why I’m here.”
Her breath hitched.
“And,” he added, because it was true and he didn’t bother to pretend otherwise, “I don’t mind the role.”
Her pulse jumped. He heard it. Felt it. Liked it far too much.
A knock on the doorframe shattered the moment. A man in overalls and a hard hat stuck his head inside. “Ms. Giordano? Sorry to interrupt, but the plumber needs to ask you some questions before he leaves.”
Chloe practically launched herself away from the wall. “Coming!”
Kayne stayed behind a second longer, letting the quiet settle. Then, just to himself, he let out a slow, satisfied breath. Yeah, she was flustered.
And he was enjoying the hell out of it.
#
Chloe had never realized how small her temporary office was until Kayne settled into the visitor chair across from her. He made the room look undersized and underfurnished. Possibly in violation of basic oxygen regulations.