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Copper hair gleaming.

Celery green eyes focused, bright, and sharp as a falcon’s.

She is still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

“Depends,” I say.

“On what?”

“On whether the client wants to listen.”

Her eyes narrow.

“Don’t start with me, Alessio.”

Fuck.

Hearing my real name again hits harder than it should.

“Less,” I correct quietly.

“That’s what everyone calls you,” she says. “Not me.”

Yeah.

I know.

Silence stretches again as the SUV climbs higher into the hills.

Finally, she asks the question I knew was coming.

“So, why did you take this job?”

Because I still love you.

Because when I saw the threat report my blood went cold.

Because if anything happened to you I’d burn the world down.

Instead, I say the version she’s ready to hear.

“Your theatre company requested security, and I was free at the moment.”

Her brows knit together.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did they hire Sigma? Your firm costs a fortune. And I didn’t ask for a bodyguard.”

“I don’t know, Rusty. They just did.”

She sighs, leaning back in the seat.

“Don’t call me that.”

That hurts. But I shrug it off.