Page 62 of Shades of Grey & Gold

“If I kiss you right now,” he says to the tile, “I am not going to want to stop, especially with you wearing that.” He gestures in my general direction but doesn’t look up.

I open my mouth to ask why that would be such a bad thing, but he continues talking.

“And, it is a bad thing, before you ask, because before that happens,” he stands, moves to the bin, comes back, “we need to have a conversation. An actual one. About all of this.” He gestures vaguely at the apartment, at himself, at the general situation. “Before I drag you any further into my mess.”

I close my mouth. Embarrassment starts to weed its way into my veins, and I cross my arms over my chest. If he wanted to kiss me, maybe he already would have. But we’ve been on actual dates, we have called them dates. And all the little touches—

“Don’t make that face.”

“I’m not making a face.”

“You are. Stop. It’s not—God Max, I want to kiss you. I want to very much, especially—” His jaw tightens slightly, and his eyes look at the hemline of his t-shirt on my thighs before he looks back at the floor. “Fuck. Especially right now. But conversation first.”

I don’t say a word.

We clean up the rest of the coffee in silence. He hands me another mug. I take a sip.

I take another sip. Because I must be mistaken.

I look at the mug. I look at him.

“Did you go out and buy this?”

It’s my coffee. Exactly. The hazelnut, the mocha, the precise ratio of caramel and it tastes exactly right, like he ordered it from a café.

He turns back to the counter and opens what I’d assumed was a cabinet door. It swings out to reveal a small built-in coffee station—syrups lined up in a row, eight of them, and even from here I can see they’re barely touched. New, maybe. The seals on two of them are still unbroken.

I look at the syrups and I look at him.

“It’s almost like you bought these for me,” I say. “Except that can’t be true because you didn’t know I was coming.”

He looks at me. The corner of his mouth tilts up. It’s a small smile but it sits a little sad underneath, the way some smiles do when they’re hiding something.

He says nothing.

He gestures toward the small kitchen table. I sit. He sits across from me with his own coffee, his hands folded around the mug. He looks at me like he’s about to make a case I’m going to have to debate—like he’s already thought through every counter argument and knows how it ends.

My back straightens, because nothing is better than arguing with Cal when he thinks he’s already won.

“You have to go back,” he says.

I take a sip of my coffee, keeping my face entirely blank.

“Max.”

I hold his gaze but don’t say a word, just continue to sip my perfect, delicious coffee. I’ll let him get his argument out before I shut it down, because no way in hell am I leaving.

“The situation with the—” he pauses, his eyebrows come together in concern as he does. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Max. I told you a lot yesterday, but there’s stuff going on… There are people who could use you to get to me if you stay. People who are already looking for leverage and who will not hesitate to—” Another pause. He sighs and chooses his words carefully, “You being here puts you in the middle of something that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me and my family’s business. I can handle it. But not if I’m worrying about you.”

The rules, as established over the next forty minutes at the kitchen table—where Cal makes me another fancy coffee complete with whipped cream. I drool over the show of him making it, the way he moves around the kitchen, rather than the caramel he drizzles into the cup. During the conversation, two bags full of brand-new clothes arrive with Gio at nine fifteen. The rules he gives are as follows:

No last name. I don’t have one. Not Cal’s, not mine. If anyone asks, I work with him at a law firm, which is true, and that’s all they need to know, which is also true.

I stay with Cal or with Gio and Rudi.

Both of whom he was kind enough to let me introduce myself to—with my name—so they at least know my name. Well, my first name. So, I can’t go anywhere alone. Not ever, not in this city, not until the situation is resolved and the family is satisfied that the territory question has been settled.

I don’t ask questions in rooms with other people.