Page 51 of The Hermit

Dominik: Santiago Castro is joining the alliance. Give him a five percent discount on his current order as a sign that we appreciate his business.

I also forward the coordinates to Santiago before setting down my cell phone.

For a few hours I check the underground chatter that’s buzzing with information regarding the bratva. Not interested in any of it, I shut my laptop and glance at all the security camera feeds.

Seeing Grace frying something in the kitchen, my stomach rumbles, reminding me it’s almost time for dinner.

I get up from the chair and pocket my cell phone before leaving the office.

The house is silent as I walk down the hallway, but when I descend the stairs, I hear something clatter in the kitchen.

The aroma of grilled beef hits me, and the corner of my mouth lifts when Grace comes into view.

She’s taken off her boots and is standing barefoot in front of the stove. The sight makes my chest warm, and I stare at her for a while.

My eyes slowly drift over her blond hair, the curve of her jaw, her slender neck, and the alluring shape of her body.

Jebat, she’s beautiful.

Grace glances in my direction, then sighs, “Oh good. Do you have any vegetables? I wanted to make a stir fry, but right now, you’re just getting noodles and beef strips.”

I move closer to her and steal a strip of beef from the pan.

“Careful, it’s hot,” she chastises me, which makes me smirk.

“Switch off the stove,” I say as I walk toward the back door. “The vegetables are out here.”

It only takes a few seconds before I hear her behind me as I open the door and step out of the house.

I have a vegetable patch that grows everything from corn to tomatoes. It’s one of my hobbies.

“You grow vegetables?” Grace gasps.

“Yes. It’s calming.”

Her eyes dart over the rows, and she crouches to pick some parsley and basil before asking, “What do you do during the winter?”

“I let the herbs dry and preserve some of the vegetables by fermenting them.”

Her head turns in my direction, and she stares at me as if I’ve grown a second head.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re…not what I expected,” she admits.

Even though I know her answer, I ask, “What did you expect?”

“An assassin slash arms dealer who has no regard for life.”

“I told you,” I remind her, “I’m many things.”

“Yeah.” She waves a hand over the garden. “But the last thing I expected was all of this.”

“Either I grow my own food, or I have to go into town more often,” I mutter. “Which is something I avoid at all costs.”

She grabs a couple of tomatoes and a head of cabbage, then glances at me. “Can I ask you a question?”

I nod as I take the vegetables from her so she can get some more.

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