Page 53 of My Masked Savior
Barbara snorts into her wine. “I like her already.”
“Naturally,” Ethan mutters. “You both enjoy being wrong.”
“And you enjoy the sound of your own voice,” Barbara says.
“It is a pleasant sound.”
Morgan leans closer to me, her lips quirking. “Are they always like this, too?”
“Worse,” Killian and I say in unison.
Emily laughs, the sound bright and infectious. “See? You’re already part of the family. Fair warning, though—dinners get loud, everyone has opinions about everything, and Ethan will try to hack your social media by dessert.”
“Already done,” Ethan announces cheerfully. “Morgan Cole, amateur artist, terrible at poker, based on your college photos, and you have questionable taste in true crime podcasts.”
Morgan stiffens slightly.
I level Ethan with a look that makes him raise his hands in surrender.
“Right. Boundaries. Got it.”
Emily waves her hand dismissively. “Ignore them both. Come sit, I’m starving and they won’t bring appetizers until we’re all settled.”
Morgan’s expression softens. She likes Emily—I can see it in the way her posture relaxes, how her smile reaches her eyes. Emily has that effect on people. Genuine warmth without the edge most of us carry.
Basia jumps up from her seat, nearly knocking over her water glass. “Morgan!” She pulls Morgan into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for setting this up. I had absolutely nothing planned for New Year’s Day, and—” She pulls back, glancing at Caleb with exasperation. “—this one’s already driving me insane.”
“I’m doing my job,” Caleb says, not looking up from his phone.
“He started this morning,” Basia continues, dropping back into her chair. “This morning, Morgan. And he’s already told me I can’t go to the bodega on my corner, I can’t take my usual subway route, and apparently my building’s fire escape is a ‘security nightmare.’”
“It is,” Caleb confirms.
“I’ve lived there for two years!”
“And you’ve been lucky for two years.”
Basia throws her hands up. “See? Stifling.”
Morgan slides into the seat beside me, amusement dancing across her face. “He’s just being thorough.”
“Thorough would be appreciated. This is suffocating.”
Caleb finally looks up, his expression flat. “You hired me to keep you safe. That’s what I’mdoing.”
“I hired you because my stalker is escalating. Not because I need a shadow.”
“Your stalker is escalating,” Caleb repeats slowly, “which is exactly why you need a shadow.”
Basia opens her mouth, then closes it. Huffs out a breath.
“He’s got a point,” I offer.
“Don’t encourage him,” Basia mutters, but there’s less heat in it.
Morgan reaches for her water glass, her knee brushing mine under the table. The contact sends a jolt through me—that constant awareness I have of her, sharper in a room full of people.
“How bad is it?” Emily asks Basia, her brow creasing with concern.
