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I picked up half the sandwich and took a bite.

The bread was thick, the mustard stronger than I expected, but it was possibly the best sandwich I’d ever had. I wondered how much of that was because Demitri had made it.

He watched until I swallowed. I took another bite. His shoulder relaxed slightly.

“We’re in good hands, Adriana.”

“Are we?”

When he looked up, his attention caught on my mouth for the briefest second before returning to my eyes.

“My sister and her husband are staying here tonight,” he continued. “If you would rather speak to a woman, Tone can help.”

“Antonella seems nice.”

“She is. Until she isn’t.”

For the first time since I had met him, one corner of his mouth lifted into something close to a smirk.

“That sounds more like a warning than an endorsement.”

“It’s both. You have yet to see Tone Cavalho on the warpath.”

I wondered whether I would be here long enough to see it.

The thought came with a hope I didn’t want to examine too closely. Perhaps I was reading too much into his words, but they made it sound as though he expected me to remain in his life for a little while longer.

I wanted that more than I should have. Maybe because I was running out of places to go. Maybe because Demitri Marco was the only person I had left.

He shifted in his seat and his knee touched mine beneath the counter. Neither of us moved. The contact was light; a strip of warmth through two layers of fabric.

I could hear the clock above the door. The faint scrape of his thumb against the edge of his plate. My own breathing.

“Get some sleep tonight.” His voice had gone hoarse. “We’ll worry in the morning.”

“You make it sound possible,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Sleeping.”

A shadow crossed his face.

“It may not be.”

“For you or me?”

“For either of us.”

Our knees were still touching. I wondered whether he noticed. Then his leg shifted, not away, but closer by the smallest distance.

My pulse beat hard against my throat. His gaze held mine. For one suspended moment, I thought he might say something else. But silence settled between us.

I picked up my sandwich again because I needed something to do with my hands. Demitri returned to his sandwich. We ate in silence, our knees touching beneath the counter as though neither of us had noticed.

When we finished, I gathered the plates while he wiped the crumbs from the counter. The work took less than a minute, but neither of us hurried. He rinsed the dishes. I dried them. Our hands brushed once when he passed me a glass.

When the kitchen was clean, he switched off the light and walked me upstairs.