Leo (Vigilance #3) - Silvia Violet Page 0,39

he just smiled. “I didn’t say I hadn’t slept with a hookup. I just didn’t do it here, and sometimes breakfast comes before there’s been any sleeping.”

After last night, I didn’t doubt that.

“I would never ask you to wear something a rando left here.”

“There’s really no reason not to as long as you washed them.” I could try to act like a reasonable adult.

“Isn’t there?”

“Fine. I fucking hate thinking about you with someone else.”

He grinned. “Then don’t.”

I pushed back the covers and reached for the pants he’d laid on the end of the bed. I pulled them on as I stood, foregoing underwear since the briefs I’d worn the day before had gotten rather sticky and I didn’t want to put them back on.

Leo gave me a slow once-over. “I’m not going to be able to give those back to my nephew now. I’ll have to buy him some more.”

He turned to head to the kitchen quickly enough that he didn’t see me blush. Would I ever get used to his open appreciation of me?

As I followed him to the kitchen, I took better stock of his apartment than I had the night before. The whole place was very tastefully decorated. Nothing about it was ostentatious, but nothing about it was personal either, with the exception of a few photographs in frames sitting on surfaces here or there. It would be interesting to see how much some Christmas decorations changed the feel of it.

“Did you have a decorator fix this place up for you?”

Leo sniffed. “I’m gay. Don’t you think I could’ve done it myself?”

I raised my brows and stared at him.

“Yes, I hired someone,” he said as he pulled open the fridge. “Why?”

“I just wondered what it would be like if you’d decorated it yourself. What would your style be?”

He placed the bacon package on the counter and turned to look at me. Something flashed in his eyes for just a moment. Sadness? Regret? Then he just shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

“Why don’t you put up some of your art?”

“I told you. It’s personal. I don’t like to share it.”

“I bet the colors would be brighter.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

I dropped the subject and continued studying the apartment. I couldn’t help but wonder how he afforded such a nice place. I didn’t know what tattoo-shop owners made, and maybe CIA operatives made more than I thought, despite being government employees. Or perhaps the vigilante business was super profitable, though didn’t he track down criminals as, like, a service?

“How did you end up with this place?” Shit. I’d asked that out loud. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

Leo laid several bacon slices in a cast-iron frying pan, and they began to sizzle. “You’re wondering how I afford this pricey building and such a nice car?”

“Um… yeah.”

“Vigilance takes paying clients. It’s not all charity work, and we charge what we’re worth.”

“Oh.” So he was a paid assassin as well as a superhero seeking justice. Yay.

Leo flipped the bacon over before continuing. “I didn’t leave the CIA on normal terms. There was a settlement. I can’t give you any details, but I’m quite comfortable now.”

“So… why do you own the shop?”

“I worked at that shop when I was in high school. Carlo, the owner, helped me accept who I was. My father left when I was five and my sister was three. We never saw him again. My mom always supported me, but she didn’t know how to help a gay teen find his way, and even if she had known, she’d worked two jobs to make ends meet. Carlo passed away a few years before I moved back here, and the shop never reopened. I wanted to revive it to honor him.

“That’s really nice.”

Someone knocked on the door, and Leo went to answer it. He returned with our waffles and coffee. The bacon was popping and sizzling wildly, and he began taking it out of the pan after setting the other things down.

Breakfast was delicious. Leo had cooked the bacon to crispy perfection, and the waffle was amazing and a total sugar rush. After so much food and an active night filled with such a rollercoaster of emotion, I felt like I could curl back up in bed and fall asleep with my body full of fat and carbs. The caffeine didn’t even seem to be affecting me.

“I was going to suggest we go out and get a Christmas tree, but you still look tired.”

“Oh, I’m fine.” I yawned, making my