and the option to leave. It turned out that her husband wasn’t abusive, just neglectful. It was still painful, but not dangerous.
She smiled at me. “I was hoping to see you,” she said. “I left you a note, but wanted to chat in person, too.”
“Lili, how are you?”
“I am content,” she said. “But I am sure you are in a hurry, so we will skip the pleasantries. You need to know about Silva, correct?”
I moved and sat in the chair across from her. “Yes, specifically Riccardo, if you know anything.”
Her lip curled. “Do you have another option?”
“No.”
“Too bad.” She closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. “Riccardo thinks he is the smartest person in the room, and the worst part is that he is often correct. It’s made him overconfident. He hates to be proven wrong.”
I didn’t ask her how she knew. Lili was part of a lower house that allied with us, but they had shady dealings just like everyone else in the ’verse.
“Do you have any specific information on him that I can use for leverage?”
“No. I’ve only met him once. He can be very charming, but watch him. He’s like a cat, waiting to pounce. And he likes to play with his prey.” She shivered at some remembered horror. “Be careful.” Her expression went distant. “I must go, but leave another note if you need more info.”
“Thank you, Lili. Stay safe.”
“You, too.” She faded from the room.
I checked the board while I pondered her words. She hadn’t told me much more than I already knew, but perhaps I could make it work. I had a few notes, but no one had any better information than I’d gotten from Lili.
I logged off, shut down all of my secure connections, and tossed my com on the nightstand. I removed my glasses and rubbed my eyes. It felt like I’d been awake forever. A peek into my purse revealed Ian had left the silencer. For once, something was going my way.
I double-checked that the manual lock on the door was set, then I climbed into bed and turned on the silencer. I would be able to hear physical noises from outside the silence field, but right now, blissful, perfect silence echoed in my mind. I sighed in relief. Six hours of silence sounded like the best thing ever.
I closed my eyes and dropped into an exhausted slumber.
A knock on my door dragged me from sleep. I fumbled for my com and checked the time. I’d been asleep for less than thirty minutes. I dropped the com back on the nightstand.
“This shit has got to stop,” I muttered to myself. I needed rest, dammit. Louder, I called, “What do you want, Ian?”
He knocked again and I remembered I was in a silence field—he couldn’t hear me. I rolled out of bed and crossed the room. “What do you want?” I asked through the door.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes?” It came out a question because why wouldn’t I be okay? “Is something wrong?”
There was a long pause.
I unlocked the manual lock and opened the door. “What?”
Two things occurred to me as Ian’s eyes slid down my body: he wasn’t wearing a shirt and I wasn’t wearing any pants. Ian Bishop was built—defined chest, six-pack abs, and sculpted arms. He was muscled more like an athlete than a bodybuilder and the effect was devastating. All of that exposed, slightly sweaty, tanned skin conspired to short-circuit my brain.
I wasn’t wearing heels and the top of my head just barely came up to his chin. I could step into his arms and curl up against his chest and have someone hold me for a second. The temptation was so strong that I swayed toward him before I got myself under control.
He smelled of sweat and warm skin, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. He had on a pair of workout shorts and running shoes. I blinked at his chest as I tried to figure out what was going on. “Ian,” I said slowly, “why are you knocking on my door half naked?”
My brain was all too happy to provide some suggested reasons and associated activities. I curled my fingers to stop myself from reaching out to see if his chest was as firm as it looked.
Ian’s eyes remained glued to my bare thighs. He shook his head, a barely there movement that made me smile. I wasn’t the only one affected. He dragged his gaze up to meet mine. “You didn’t see