They relocated by noon.
A private estate outside the city quiet, surrounded by water, accessible only by air and sea. No paparazzi. No fans.
Just space.And tension.
"You're telling me you'll be staying here too?" Kairo asked, watching Naya inspect the perimeter.
"Yes."
"In my house."
"Yes."
"Same roof."
"Yes."He grinned. "This keeps getting better."
She shot him a look. "You flirt like a manwho's never been told no."
"I flirt like a man who's usually alive afterward."She didn't smile—but she didn't shut him down either.The estate had fewer rooms, forcing proximity. Shared hallways. Shared routines.Shared mornings.
Kairo noticed things quickly.She woke before dawn. Ran five miles. Practiced hand-to-hand drills alone on the terrace. Ate little.
And when she cookedbecause she did, every evening it was like watching someone pray.
Precise. Reverent. Intentional.
"You could open a restaurant," he said one night as she plated dinner.
She shrugged. "I like feeding people who need it."
He met her eyes. "I need it."
Something softened just a fraction.
Later that night, the power flickered.
Generators kicked in.
Naya was on him instantly, pinning him against the wall, hand on his chest, listening.
"Heartbeat's fast," she murmured.
"Someone just slammed me into a wall," he said. "Hard to imagine why."
Her breath was warm against his skin.
They froze.Too close.
Too aware.She stepped back first. "Go to bed."
"Yes, ma'am."She paused. "Don't call me that."He smiled. "Noted."