The Banker (Banker 1)

I’d just finished making dinner in the kitchen when the front door opened. Now I knew it wasn’t Damien, so the only person who could barge into my house was Cato. His heavy footfalls were unmistakable.

“I’m in the kitchen.” I turned off the stove and put the meal on two plates.

He rounded the corner and came toward me, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. His suits looked flawless on him, but the thin cotton of his shirt was much better. Showed off his chiseled forearms. When he spotted me, he stilled, his head slightly cocked and his eyes narrowed. It was the same intense look he always gave me. It just seemed a little deeper than usual.

The stare almost made me uncomfortable because he resembled a predator so much. I felt like a cornered gazelle, and he was the leopard about to rip me to pieces. He didn’t greet me with a kiss or a look full of arousal. He just stared me down like a statue, like he wasn’t truly real.

I tried to defuse the tension. “Are you hungry?” I held up the two plates.

He kept his eyes locked to mine. No answer.

“Alright…” I walked past him and set the plates on the dining table. “Well, if you want something, it’s there.” I moved behind him and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. His cold behavior was unusual, but I didn’t want to ask him about it. Once I opened that can of worms, I didn’t know what would come out.

I poured wine into his glass and added water to mine.

He joined me a moment later, his eyes focused on mine as he placed the food in his mouth.

“Long day?”

“You could say that.”

I kept eating like everything was normal, but deep inside my chest, there was a storm of emotions. The guilt ate me alive and chased away my appetite. Then it made me throw up the food I managed to get down in the first place.

He drank his wine then kept eating. “No gun today?”

“I assumed it was you.”

“You didn’t assume that before. What changed?”

I shrugged. “I guess I just got used to it.”

He chewed slowly, his blue eyes locked on to mine like targets.

Was he always this intense? Or was it just a warm evening? I grabbed my water and took a drink.

“No wine?”

“Trying to cut back. My stomach has been upset lately.”

“Stressed?” He drank his wine again.

“No. I’m not sure.”

“It’s natural for the body to shut down under stressful situations.”

I was in the most stressful situation of my life. “Decorating a three-story mansion isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

“Among other things…”

I didn’t even finish half my meal because my stomach couldn’t handle it. The cramping got worse the second he walked into the house.

“Everything alright, Siena?” He ate every single bite on his plate without looking at his utensils.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” Was I that flustered?

“You said your stomach hurt. You’re quiet. You aren’t pointing a gun at me. Not exactly yourself this evening.”

Neither was he. “My mother’s anniversary is in a few days…” I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Now the plan was set into motion. It was time to commit to it. “The anniversary of her death. It’s been five years.”

He rested both elbows on the table as he stared at me, his hands coming together in front of him. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anniversaries are hard.”

“Birthdays too. But those make me remember her when she was alive. The anniversaries just make me think of the day she was gone.”

He massaged his knuckles slightly as he stared at me. Throughout the entire meal, he’d only blinked a handful of times. “It’s rough.”

“She’s at the cemetery outside of Florence. I was going to go visit her.” I waited for him to offer to accompany me. That would make it less obvious than me asking him outright. “Bring her some flowers or something.”

“That sounds nice.”

Maybe he wouldn’t offer to go with me. “If you aren’t busy, I would really like it if you came with me. Going alone is always hard…”

His eyes narrowed instantly, like the question meant something more to him than it should. He pulled his arms off the table and sat back against the chair, his wide shoulders as expansive as a billboard. “You want me to go with you?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to…” If I didn’t get him alone, then the plan would never work. I wouldn’t have to feel guilty for not saving my father, not when I tried. So if Cato didn’t cooperate, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He would make the decision for me.

“No.” He leaned forward over the table, his brilliant blue eyes settling on mine. “I would love to.”

My heart immediately broke in two. I hated myself more than I ever had. I hated Damien for putting me in this position. I hated that Cato was so strict I couldn’t just ask for his help instead. No matter what decision I made, it was a bad one. “Thank…” I cleared my throat to keep the emotion out of my voice, but it was no use. I felt like dirt—felt lower than dirt.