“I didn’t want to press the wrong thing and make the whole setup explode,” I explained.

“There’s not a self-destruct button, baby.” He was about to turn on our show, but I gave him a discreet shake of the head.

For one, it’d finally reached the point where Ward didn’t ask so many questions while we watched our show. Coming in at the last season would be impossible for Katarzyna to follow.

But more importantly, good food made people happy, which in turn made them chatty. Mealtime was perfect for easy conversation.

Or for casual interrogation.

“What do you do, Katarzyna?” I asked.

“Call me Kat,” she said with a nearly imperceptible look at Ward. “I was a maid, but now I’m a housekeeper with the bunnies.”

I didn’t know there was a big difference between a maid and a housekeeper, but the way she spoke made it clear there was. I also had no clue what bunnies were, minus the fluffy, long-eared kind.

Answering my unasked question, she explained, “Bunnies are the women who spend time with the Mayhem men.”

More than a hint of resentment and bitterness was present in her biting sentence. I understood it.

I really understood it.

I’d never in my life felt as feral as I did at that moment. I wanted to climb on his lap and make sure no bunnies came anywhere near him. And if I left a few love bites on his neck to mark my territory…

Oh well.

None of it was logical, but that didn’t stop it from being the truth.

My gaze shot to Ward to see his hands were already up in a placating position. His charming smile was the pinnacle of openness—with an edge of heat. “Love that you’re as possessive of me as I am of you, baby, but no bunnies.”

Kat’s eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open in horror. “No, not Hollywood. They like him, of course, but they said he is… whipped?”

Again, my gaze darted to Ward, and he shrugged. “That one I am guilty of.”

No shame. No fragile masculinity. No blustering to cover some perceived vulnerability.

Unsure what to say, I picked up one of the flaky wontons from my plate. “I love crab rangoon.”

“I know.” Ward hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a second order in the kitchen.”

“You know?” Usually, that didn’t surprise me. Ward seemed to have a mental filing cabinet dedicated to my likes and dislikes. But I didn’t remember ever mentioning them.

“You told me when they had Chinese food on an episode of House.”

I couldn’t believe he’d paid attention to me.

I hadn’t even paid attention to me.

Leaving that alone before I freaked out—or tried to ride him like a Harley—Kat and I talked a little more. Built a rapport.