Chapter Twenty-Six
~ Natural Interactions ~
Soren
I’m sat alone in my study two days later, the heavy oak door closed, the only light coming from the desk lamp and the faint glow of the city skyline through the windows. The estate is quiet tonight, but my mind is anything but.
I pick up the encrypted phone and dial the number I’ve used only a handful of times over the years. It rings twice before Agent Ruez answers, his voice clipped and professional. “Sinclair.”
“Ruez,” I reply, my voice cold, the tone I use when I want someone to remember exactly who they’re speaking to. “I need information.”
Ruez says, “Of course. What do you need?”
I fiddle with a pen in my free hand, hoping for a win. “Have there been any signs of Zero Hour in the city recently? Any chatter from your undercover ops? Movement? New faces?”
The line goes quiet for half a second, the kind of pause that tells me he’s choosing his words carefully.
Ruez knows better than to waste my time with pleasantries.
“Honestly? Nothing solid,” he says. “We had a member captured and questioned by the CIA on the other side of the country two weeks ago. He gave up some names, but the trail went cold fast. Since you handled Mr. and Mrs. Everly, the group’s been fracturing.
Their case has gone quiet here. My guess is they’re looking for new pastures to start again, but their members are being picked off one by one.
Whoever’s left is keeping their heads down. ”
I lean back in my chair, fingers drumming once on the desk. The news settles like a weight lifting, but only partially. “Good. Keep me updated if anything changes. I want no more ghosts from that organisation showing up in my city.”
“I’ll keep my ear to the ground.”
“Make sure you do. And Ruez… if I find out you’re holding anything back, our arrangement ends. Permanently.”
The line goes quiet for a beat. “Understood.”
I hang up without another word and set the phone down.
That’s one less thing to be on high alert for.
The worry about Zero Hour will never fully leave me, but maybe I can breathe a little easier.
Still, the city is full of people with vendettas.
Finn is dead, but there will always be others.
I can’t let my guard down, not when Kit’s safety is on the line.
I lean forward, elbows on the desk, and stare at the dark wood grain.
He’s been home for two days now, resting and healing.
I’ve barely left his side except for the necessities, but even then, I’ve made sure someone I trust is with him.
The thought of him finally being able to walk around the estate without fear…
it’s the only thing that’s kept me sane these past few days.
I exhale slowly, the tension in my shoulders easing just a fraction.
◆◆◆
I’m forcing myself through the tedious stack of paperwork for the legitimate side of my businesses…
I hate this part of the job, the boring, soul-crushing numbers and red tape, but I need to know it’s done right.
No one else gets to touch this shit. One mistake and the IRS starts sniffing around, and I don’t need that heat.
A knock sounds on the door.
I sigh without looking up. “Yeah?”
Ray pops his head in. “Time for food, boss.”
I grunt and nod. A break from this will be good. It’s draining, the kind of work that makes my eyes burn after too long. I stand, stretching my shoulders until they pop, then follow Ray out, closing the study door behind me with a firm click.
As we walk down the hall, Ray asks casually, “Did everything go okay with Ruez?”
I tell Ray most things, especially when it comes to organisations like Zero Hour. I just nod. “Nothing to tell.”
Ray smiles. “That’s great.”
I side-eye him. “Doesn’t stop other threats.”
Ray laughs under his breath. “Take the win, man.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help the small grin that tugs at my mouth despite myself.
We walk into the dining room. The long table is already lined with my employees who live on the estate, a ritual we rarely pass on, unless I’m busy or in a particularly foul mood.
What I didn’t expect when I walked in was to see Kit here… out of bed, in my seat.
A flicker of panic runs through me and I still in the doorway. Ray moves past me to sit down opposite Armen.
Armen and Selina have become close with Kit these past couple of days, good friends, if you will.
Right now, the three of them are in the middle of a conversation, Armen gesturing animatedly with his hands.
I don’t listen to the words. My gaze is locked on Kit, flicking over him, checking if he’s okay.
The IV line is still in his arm but not connected to anything.
His dark curls are still a mess, but no one cares.
After what he went through, he needed the rest. But goddamn…
something hot and possessive rolls through me, laced with pride. So much pride.
He hasn’t noticed I’m here yet. I watch as he covers his mouth with his hand, trying to keep a straight face instead of laughing at whatever Armen just said.
The past couple of days I’ve realised Kit thinks he’s like a mutation now, that the scar makes him hideous. I get it, it’s still red and swollen, the stitches still sticking out. The doctor will remove them in a couple more days.
The most heartbreaking thing, though, has been that no matter how much time I spend with him, Kit always tries to turn his face away.
He tries not to let me see the scar. But I want to see his face.
I love his face… the soft curve of his jaw, the way his curls fall into his eyes, the quiet vulnerability in his expression even when he’s trying to hide it.
My eyes go wide at the thought, and I immediately shove it down.
Nope. We’re not going there. Just eat and shut up.
I walk over to my usual seat at the head of the table, already preparing to tell Kit to move so I can sit down. I’m still the boss; I can’t be showing everyone how soft I can be for the boy.
But Kit simply stands up out of the way without me having to say a word, shaking his head at Armen with a small, amused smile. “You’re full of bullshit, Armen. No way did that happen.”
Selina clicks her fingers at Kit and chimes in, “I second that.”
I sit down, wondering what the hell they’re even talking about.
As soon as I’m settled, Kit just… sits back down.
On me. On my lap. I was not expecting that.
I look down at where he’s perched, then back up at the back of his head, my brain short-circuiting for half a second.
A tiny grin tugs at my mouth as I try to withhold the low growl building in my chest. Not the time, Soren.
But damn… I hope he lets me back in soon.
I cannot wait to rail this boy again, every single day.
I shuffle the chair closer to the table as best I can and pull Kit more comfortably back against my chest, angling him slightly to one side so I can still reach around him when the food arrives.
Armen leans forward, grinning. “Boss, tell them I’m not making it up. You remember that time me and you went to that axe-throwing competition like ten years back? When we had to fly out to Tennessee?”
I groan at the memory, embarrassed I ever agreed to something so ridiculous. “Uh huh. What about it? You know I hated that trip.”
Armen laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, tell them that I landed that axe backwards without looking!”
I huff a laugh. “It’s true. But you did scare the shit out of everyone watching.”
Armen shrugs shamelessly. “I deserved that win.”
I deadpan, “There were kids there, Armen.”
Armen covers his mouth, hiding his shameless grin. I just roll my eyes.
Kit leans back, resting his head against my collarbone as I take a sip of my drink. I don’t miss Selina’s observing smile before Ray pulls her attention away, leaving just Kit and me in this weird little bubble.
Kit whispers, almost shyly, “I’d like a shower after dinner.”
I nod and set my glass down. “Okay.”
Honestly, I’d love to help, but Kit has been stubborn about accepting help these past couple of…
My thoughts are cut off when he adds quietly, “Will you help me?”
I slowly turn my head to look down at him. “Seriously?”
Kit blushes adorably and mumbles, “I mean, only if you’re not busy… you know what, it was a stupid thing to ask of you…”
I press a kiss to his shoulder and murmur, “I’d love to help. After that you can help me finish my taxes.”
Kit snorts out a surprised laugh that makes me raise a brow.
He covers his mouth gently. “Sorry.”
I nip at his earlobe with my teeth playfully. The interaction feels easy and natural, like something I didn’t know I was missing.
Lorraine and the staff come out with the food. They all eat with us too, but they wait until everyone else has been served first.
Lorraine brings over a long plate, bigger than usual. She sets it down in front of us and says with a warm smile, “Now, I saw Kit sitting with you and I thought I’d just bring out a sharing plate for you both.”
She brushes a curl from Kit’s face and tells him gently, “Remember, Kit, don’t force yourself to eat too much, okay? Don’t make yourself sick.”
Kit smiles softly up at her. “Thanks, Lorraine.”
He straightens a little and grabs some cutlery, picking up one of the homemade fries. Lorraine makes them herself with her own seasoning… crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, covered in that perfect natural flavouring.
What I don’t expect is for Kit to turn around slightly and say, “Bite,” holding it up to my mouth and watching me.
I grin a little and take the food he offers. I can’t help it, but the gesture and his proximity make me harden beneath him. Kit freezes at the twitch against his ass.
I lean forward and whisper against his ear, “Ignore it, I can’t help it. Eat.”
Kit nods, but he’s blushing hard now. I pick up another fork and start eating too, one arm still loosely around his waist.