She looked up, forcing a look of mild, pleasant surprise onto her face. Kade stood there, his overcoat unbuttoned, his expression unreadable, his eyes searching hers with a precision that made her feel like she was under a microscope.
"Mr. Wilder," she said, her voice smooth. "I could say the same to you. I didn't realize you were a fan of authentic Italian."
He didn't wait for an invitation. He slid into the booth across from her, his large frame making the space feel suddenly, claustrophobically small. "I'm a fan of things that are exactly what they claim to be."
"Hmm." She nodded and sipped her wine.
The silence between them was heavy, seasoned with the scent of old wood and the sharp, acidic tang of the red wine. Kade didn't order anything. He just sat there, his presence consuming the small booth, his eyes never leaving Camille's face.
"You're a long way from the office, Camille," he said. The way he used her name, without the professional title, felt like a physical touch.
"I found myself restless," she replied, taking a slow, deliberate sip of her wine. "The city has a way of calling to you."
"Indeed." He paused, his gaze dropping to her wine glass before returning to her eyes.
"I was answering that call too, you know? Imagine my surprise, seeing my new secretary sitting alone in a place like this, ten minutes after I thought I saw a ghost in an alleyway nearby."
"A ghost, Mr. Wilder?" Camille raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise.
Kade leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. The movement brought him closer, into that magnetic space that had nearly undone her in the car. "We aren't in the office now. Drop the 'Mr. Wilder'."
She tilted her head, a stray lock of black hair falling over her shoulder. "And what should I call you?"
"Kade." His voice dropped an octave. "In this light, 'sir' feels rather too stiff."
Before she could retort, the bell chimed again. A man walked in, radiating a polished, arrogant charm. He was devastatingly handsome, dressed in a bespoke navy suit that cost more than most people made in a year. He scanned the room with a practiced ease before his eyes landed on their table.
Julian Vane.
Camille's blood ran cold. She knew him from the Agency files, and from her mother's circle of elite predators. She loathed him, but Julian didn't recognize her; he only saw a beautiful woman sitting with his biggest rival.
"Kade," Julian said, his voice a smooth silk.
"I didn't realize you had such exquisite taste in company." He turned his focus to Camille, his eyes traveling over her with a lingering, predatory heat. "And who is this? Surely not another fiancee."
Kade didn't look up, but his jaw tightened, a dark, brooding energy radiating off him.
"Julian," Kade said, his voice icy "You're out of your territory."
"The city is everyone's territory, Kade."
Julian reached out, catching Camille's hand. He brushed a lingering kiss against her knuckles, his eyes locked on hers. "I'm Julian. I'd ask for your name, but I'd much rather discover it over a drink when you aren't being guarded by a gargoyle."
Camille fighting the urge to bash his face in and wipe off his kiss with a napkin, gave a polite smile and took her hand back.The temperature at the table dropped ten degrees. Kade's gaze sharpened into something lethal. He didn't say a word to Julian, but the way his fingers curled around his glass suggested he was a second away from shattering it.
Kade stood up abruptly, his height looming over the table. He didn't look at Julian. He looked at the waiter who was hovering nearby.
"Pack her food," Kade commanded. "Everything she ordered. Have it delivered to her apartment."
He pulled out his phone and read out the address to the eager waiter.
Camille blinked, her surprise sharpening into irritation. "I'm perfectly capable of finishing my meal here, Kade."
"You aren't eating here," he said, turning those cold grey eyes on her. "The company has soured."
Julian let out a mock gasp.
"Come on, Kade," He sneered. "Let the pretty lady have some fun."
Kade threw him a cold glance that made Julian recoil. He turned to Camille. "Camille—"
"I don't remember asking for a curator of my social life," Camille countered, her voice rising in defiance. She hated being managed, especially when she was in the middle of a literal stakeout.
Kade didn't argue. He simply reached down, his hand wrapping firmly around her upper arm, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear he wasn't going to let go.. "Argument noted. We're leaving."
He steered her toward the door, leaving a smirking Julian behind.
Once outside, the cool night air hit them, but it did nothing to settle Camille's temper. Kade led her straight to the black sedan idling at the curb.
"I have my own way home," she snapped, trying to twist her arm out of his grip.
"Not tonight you don't," Kade muttered. He opened the door, his body blocking any path of escape. "Get in the car, Camille. Don't make me put you in there myself."
The look in his eyes told her he was hovering on a very thin edge between his "boss" persona and something much darker.
Realizing she couldn't win this battle without blowing her cover entirely, she huffed and slid into the leather interior sitting as far away from him as the seat allowed, her pulse still racing. She had been the one stalking him, but now, trapped in the back of his car, she felt like the one who had been caught.
Kade climbed in beside her, the door slamming shut with a definitive thud. He didn't look at her as the car pulled away. He just stared straight ahead, his profile as hard as granite, the silence in the car so thick it was almost suffocating.
As the car pulled into traffic, the silence lasted all of five seconds before it shattered.
"What the hell was that?" Camille turned on him, her eyes flashing. "You don't own my time once I clock out. You don't get to decide where I eat or who speaks to me."
Kade kept his poker face, staring straight ahead as if they were discussing the weather. "I saved you from a conversation with a man who views women as disposable assets. You should be thanking me."
"I can handle Julian Vane myself," she hissed. "I don't need a savior, and I certainly don't need a boss who thinks 'secretary' means 'property.'"
"I don't think you're property, Camille." Kade finally turned his head, his gaze cool and piercing despite the heat in his voice.
"Then let me out of the car!"
"No."
"No?" She laughed, a sharp, disbelieving sound. "You're being ridiculous. You're brooding because another man touched my hand. It's pathetic."
Kade's jaw worked. He leaned toward her, invading her space until she was pressed back against the door. "I'm brooding because you have a knack for being in the wrong place at the exactly wrong time. First the ball, and now a bistro in a district you shouldn't be wandering alone."
"The ball," Camille's eyes went wide. "You remember, you lying bast--"
"That's enough!" He growled. "You're not exactly a beacon of truth, Camille."
She was incensed.
He was inches away, his voice growling.
"You want to be independent? Fine. But while you're on my payroll, I'm not letting Julian Vane get his hooks into you just to spite me."
"Is that what this is? A business rivalry?"
"Everything is business, Camille," he whispered, his eyes dropping to her lips. "Until it isn't."
He pulled back and started the car, his poker face returning as if the outburst had never happened.
Camille sat back, fuming, her pulse still racing from his proximity. She had been the one stalking him, but in the quiet, charged dark of the car, it felt like she was the one being hunted.