“And I think you’ll try to keep it,” she said. “But things happen, and in the end I’m the one responsible. You got us this far and I’m grateful.” She forced a smile as she pushed her chair back. “And I’m very grateful for my breakfast. Now I must get to work.” She tilted her head curiously. “What are you going to do today?”

“Check on my properties. Do a bit of dealing in the market. I’m going to need to recoup funds for the losses in Stockholm. Phone Sherman and see how the local police are handling the killing of one of their own and the destruction at the airport. I called the hospital in Stockholm last night and it looks like Nash is going to make it, so I have to make arrangements for his rehabilitation.” His lips tightened. “It’s going to take a while. Your bastard of a father nearly tore him apart.”

“He likes to hurt people.” She shivered. “It’s something he and Volkov have in common. Though I think he’s gotten worse since Volkov came into his life. Volkov gives the orders and he obeys.” She shook her head wearily. “But I’m glad that Nash is going to live. I still feel terrible about not remembering those cameras in the woods.”

“I’ve told you before. My job, my responsibility. I hired him and I’ll take care of him. I’ll just add it to my score against Anton and Volkov.” He carried her plate and the cups over to the dishwasher. “It continues to grow and grow…”

“And all for Sandrino,” she murmured. “He must have been an extraordinary man.”

“I thought so. Other people had different opinions. He was tough and took no prisoners. He saved my neck—and besides, I could see myself in him. Since I have more than my share of ego, I was bound to find him appealing. I’d never run across anyone else like him.”

“And that was enough for you?”

“He was my friend,” he said simply. “I’d never had one before. Yeah, that was enough.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Why do you ask?”

“Don’t I have a right to be curious about him? You’re always asking me questions. I wouldn’t even be here now if it wasn’t for Sandrino.”

“That’s true. That would probably amuse him. I believe he’d find you very interesting.”

“Would he?” She was standing and staring at him. She didn’t want to turn and leave. She wanted to ask him more about Sandrino and the bond that had drawn them together. She wanted to ask him about all the years before he had come here. It was different from that moment last night so charged with sexual tension. It was warmer and deeper and held a kind of yearning for closeness that was almost irresistible.