“Your father’s not home yet.”

“But with your help, he soon will be.”

“Careful, my love. You can’t say that. You don’t know that.”

She averted her head and blinked hard, gazing out across the water that had darkened to purple beneath a lavender sky. The first stars were appearing and the moon was far away, just a little crescent of white.

“I’m not saying that it’s hopeless,” Drakon said. “Just that there is still a great deal we do not know yet.”

“I understand. I do.”

CHAPTER FIVE

MORGAN PASSED ON coffee and returned to her room, finding it far too painful to sit across from Drakon and look at him, and be so close to him, and yet not be part of his life anymore. Better to return to her suite and pace the floor in privacy, where he couldn’t read her face or know how confused she felt.

How could she still want him so much even now? How could she want him when she knew how dangerous he was for her?

She needed to go home, back to New York, back to her family. There was no reason to remain here. Surely this man, Rowan whatever-his-name-was, from Dunamas Intelligence, didn’t need her here for his work. He could email her, or call, when he had news….

Morgan nearly returned downstairs to tell Drakon she wanted to leave tonight, that she insisted on leaving tonight, but as she opened her door she realized how ridiculous she’d sound, demanding to go just when Rowan was set to arrive. No, she needed to calm down. She was being foolish. As well as irrational. Drakon wouldn’t hurt her. He wasn’t going to destroy her. She just needed to keep her head, and not let him anywhere close to her body.

Morgan went to bed, thinking she’d be too wound up to sleep, but she did finally sleep and then woke up early, her room filled with dazzling morning sunlight. After showering, she dressed simply in slim white slacks and one of her favorite colorful tunics and headed downstairs to see if she could get a coffee.

One of the maids gestured to the breakfast room, which was already set for two. Morgan shook her head. “Just coffee,” she said, unable to stomach the idea of another meal with Drakon. “An Americano with milk. Latte,” she added. “But nothing to eat.”

The maid didn’t understand and gestured again to the pretty table with its cheerful yellow and blue linens and smiled winningly.

“No, no. Just coffee. Take away.” Morgan frowned, wondering why she couldn’t seem to remember a single word of Italian. She used to know a little bit, but her brain wasn’t working this morning. She was drawing a total blank.

The maid smiled. “Coffee. Americano, si. Prego.” And she gestured to the table once more.

Morgan gave up and sat down at the table, needing coffee more than argument. She ended up having breakfast alone and enjoyed her warm pastries and juice and strong hot coffee, which she laced with milk.