She stifled a yes, sir and a flip of her favorite finger. “Fine.” Tipping the water back, she drank as she’d been ordered. Seriously, I can take care of myself without J-dawg telling me how to behave.

“Mr. Westin?”

Sugar screamed, spurting and spinning. The butler stood behind her. She took a choking breath. Water dribbled down her shirt, and she choked again. What—are all butlers on stealth mode? Of course they were; they’d been trained by Jared Westin, operative extraordinaire. “Sorry, my bad.”

She wiped at her shirt, again noticing how greasy her hands were. Oh, that’s hot. A shower was high on her priority list.

His expression unreadable, Jared crossed his arms. The butler appeared unfazed. After all, he did work in a hotel that had just been the scene of a gunfight, and as far Sugar could tell, the Abu Dhabi’s version of the cops hadn’t shown up.

The theme song to Cops played in her head, uninvited. Sugar took a long chug of water. She definitely needed to sober up more than she’d thought.

Jared shared a knowing glance with the butler. “A little help in the kitchen, my man. Black coffee and food that’ll soak up Jose.”

“Patron,” Sugar corrected.

“Patron,” he said to her, none too thrilled at her correction. Then he turned his attention back to the butler. “Maybe some breakfast. Pancakes. Waffles. Something. No raisins.”

She raised her eyebrows, but he nodded to the butler and walked away while dialing his phone.

No raisins? So now the bastard has a sliver of a heart, and he pulls a thoughtful moment out of his well-shaped ass.

“I’m going to wash my hands.” She found a washroom in the hallway, where the décor was masculine. Very Titan and very lived in. She wondered how often he stayed there. How many other women had his butler made breakfast for? She knew she shouldn’t care, but her mind wandered anyway.

After only enough time for her to speculate on the inner workings of Jared’s head, the butler knocked on the ajar washroom door and invited her to the dining table. Heavenly aromas drifted out the kitchen before she could say Top Chef: Abu Dhabi.

Jared came back with a mug of coffee and flipped a chair around so that he could straddle it. He nodded to her empty water bottle. “You need some coffee?”

“No. Thanks, though.” Her sobering was in full effect. So was exhaustion. She needed to sleep, but that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. Not while people were trying to kill her. Not when she wondered about how she was falling for a man who, to the best of her knowledge, had never had a single long-term relationship. Just like her.

Plus, caffeine would make her jittery, and that wouldn’t help anyone. Staying awake and being exhausted was the best plan. “What’s on our agenda? I can’t stay squirrelled away in a hotel room forever.”