Nate

“Focus, perv. She’s your ward. Not your plaything,” I mumbled to myself, though I didn’t put much conviction into it. Uncle Nate. Her words echoed in my mind. That had been a nice touch, one that screamed “DO NOT FUCKING THINK ABOUT IT,” but I’d thought about it quite a bit since the moment I saw her in the pool.

Sabrina had grown from a timid, beautiful girl into a woman that could turn heads and shred hearts. Smart enough to get a full scholarship to Temple and with a body that made me want to—I stopped myself from continuing the thought. I was responsible for keeping her safe after her foster parents had been murdered in some ugly business to do with the old boss. That was five years ago, and Sabrina was all but forgotten in underworld dealings. Raised in the finest boarding schools money could buy, she was a stranger to this life, and I intended to keep it that way. I took a deep breath and let it out before adjusting my semi like a fucking teenager.

Sunlight filtered through the bulletproof windows along the wide hallway at the back of the house. The wood floors gleamed with fresh polish as I turned left into the main hallway, the walls still decorated with art procured by the Genoa family ages ago. I had no idea what they were worth, or if they were any good. Seen one, seen ‘em all—that about covered art, as far as I was concerned.

The scent of bacon and eggs wafted through the house, tempered by the perfectly bitter tang of fresh coffee. Voices bounced off the mahogany paneling, one high and sweet and the other belonging to Peter.

My back stiffened as I strode into the breakfast room. Sabrina, her blonde hair falling in loose waves down her bare shoulders, sat at the table. She wore a sun dress with tiny spaghetti straps, the fabric so thin it was nearly see-through. Her eyes turned to me, the bright cornflower blue dazzling when she smiled.

“Nate.” She stood, giving me a clear view of just how short her light pink dress was. Mid-thigh was a stretch. I wanted to drape her in my suit coat. Peter grinned.

“Don’t you have work to do?” I bristled and strode around to the chair at the head of the table.

“Yes, boss.” He gave Sabrina a small nod. “Good to meet you.”

“Same here.” She took her seat and placed her napkin in her lap.

When Peter was out of the room, I managed to relax a hair. But then she turned that smile on me again. So bright and full of life. Did she have any idea how radiant she was?

“Since I’ll be staying here, I was wondering if I could redecorate my old room?”

I compared how she looked now to the small, scared girl I rescued from a shoot-out five years prior. The eyes were the same—enthralling, and the hair still had a golden hue, but the rest of her was different. Her face wasn’t as round and had turned into more of a heart shape. Smooth skin, even white teeth, and plump lips. Disconcerting, to say the least. I had a distinct image of her in my mind whenever I happened to think about her away at school. It was always the same terrified little girl, her big blue eyes begging for me to save her. That child was gone, and a stranger had appeared in her place. A hot one.

Opal entered from the kitchen with my coffee and a plate of bacon, eggs, and two fluffy pancakes. She beamed at Sabrina. “So nice to have another woman in the house for once.”

I sipped my coffee and gave her a stern look. She took the hint and bustled out again as Sabrina took a bite of her waffle.

“God, this is so good.” She swallowed. “We didn’t get food like this at school.” She cut another bite, then glanced up at me. “Are you going to eat?”

I realized I’d been staring and hadn’t said a damn thing. Setting my coffee down, I leaned back and focused on keeping my gaze on her angelic face. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here at the house.”

Her face fell, and it was like taking a bullet. “But I just got here.”

“I know.” I draped my napkin across my lap. “And I’m sorry. But—” How could I phrase this? “The business has been having some trouble lately, and I want to keep things running smoothly. You’d do better on campus or maybe in an apartment? I can have that arranged for you.”

She placed her fork on her plate. “Business?” Crossing her arms under her breasts, which drew my eyes to the hard points of her nipples—Jesus—she said, “I know what sort of business you’re in, and I’m not scared.”