Page 45 of Undercover Shadow
“Brilliant meal,” Vanguard said to Mrs. Murray as she cleared the plates. “Thank you.”
He had manners. Of course he did.
“I should get going as well.” He stood, then turned to Nightingale. “I hope it won’t be too long before we see each other again.”
“We both have our assignments.” Her smile was polite. “But I’m sure our paths will cross.”
“Until then.” He touched her shoulder briefly, further infuriating me enough that I wanted to put my fist through the wall.
The front hall filled with goodbyes and final instructions. Con caught my eye as he and Lex headed for the door. His look spoke louder than words—don’t do anything stupid.
Too late for that.
Silence settled over Glenshadow like a shroud as the house emptied. Ash’s Range Rover disappeared down the drive first, carrying him, Sullivan, and Gus. Then Con’s with Lex, Vanguard, and Prima. Typhon and Viper left too, although by then, I’d stopped paying attention.
“Need anything else tonight, boss?” Archon asked.
“Get some rest,” I said, hating that I sounded like a man twelve years older than him. Than Nightingale.
When he retreated, I stood alone in the hall. The grandfather clock ticked, and the wind rattled the ancient windows. Somewhere upstairs, Nightingale was probably getting ready for bed.
In the room next to mine.
Connected by a door that hadn’t been opened in decades.
I headed for my study and poured whiskey despite Con’s warning, despite knowing it would only make things worse.
The thoughts I’d been holding back all evening crashed through the barriers.
She was no longer a virgin. Because of me.
Maybe she’d explore now. With others. Men who wouldn’t push her away after.
I’d opened that door. Shown her what her body could feel. Then slammed it shut and told her to forget.
What right did I have to want her to stay celibate? To pine for a man who’d rejected her?
None.
But the thought of another man touching her the way I had?—
The glass hit the desk harder than intended.
She deserved happiness. Deserved someone who could offer her tomorrow and all the tomorrows after. Someone who wasn’t terrified of becoming his parents. Someone who hadn’t promised her dead brother to keep her safe.
Safe. That’s what I’d told myself. But Con was right—I was destroying us both while calling it protection.
Movement caught my eye in the hallway. A figure headed toward the library.
Nightingale.
My feet were moving before I’d made a conscious decision. Out of the study. Down the corridor. The whiskey made everything sharper and duller at the same time—edges too bright, thoughts too slow.
I caught up with her in the alcove just before the library entrance.
“Leila.”
She spun around. Even in the dim light, I could see her expression shift from surprise to wariness.
