“Hey! Come on in,” she said, stepping back so that we could enter.

“Darcy, you remember Kat? She’s Maury’s daughter.”

“He’s such a nice man,” Darcy said, holding out her hand for me to shake. “And we’ve met at Destiny. I used to dance there.”

“Darcy’s going back to school in the fall,” Cole said. “She’s taking a few college prep courses now, so we made a deal. She hangs out with your dad, answers the door and keeps him out of sight, and she can get paid for spending the rest of her time studying.”

“Not bad,” I said.

“It’s a great gig,” Darcy said, looking at Cole with something close to hero worship.

“Um, can I see him?”

“Huh? Oh! Right. Come on.” Darcy led the way into the suite, a still elegant but much smaller version of the one Tyler and Sloane occupied. “He goes into one of the bedrooms when anyone comes—maids or room service or maintenance. Hang on.” She bounced across the room, then disappeared down a short hall. I heard her tap on a door and call for him. A moment later, my father walked into the room, a wide grin spread across his face, and his arms held out wide for me.

I hugged him tight, then stepped back to look at him. He looked calm and rested—the fear I’d seen on his face when he’d come to my apartment had all but been erased. I eased closer to Cole and took his hand in a silent thank-you, because he’d played a huge part in erasing that worry.

We settled in the living room, me perched on the arm of the couch so I could be close to my dad, and Cole standing near the window, looking out at the city. Darcy played hostess, offering coffee or wine or something stronger.

I went for the stronger.

“You’re doing okay, Daddy? Not getting restless?”

“You know me, I’m always restless. But I’m content to stay put until your young man here tells me otherwise.”

“Good,” I said. “He’s gone to a lot of trouble, and he knows what he’s doing. You listen to him.”

“I am. You’ve got a good man there, taking care of me. Taking care of you. I didn’t want to put you at risk, kiddo, I really didn’t. But I’m glad I came.”

I sighed. “I am, too, Daddy. I just want you to stay safe.”

I made him promise a dozen or so more times that he’d follow all the rules and not do anything stupid.

“I did a bit more poking around,” Cole said, leaving the window to join us. “The property is prime, and although Frederick Charles doesn’t want to sell to Muratti, that’s not because he’s looking to develop the property himself or expects his niece to after she inherits.”

“He just doesn’t want to sell to a mafia guy,” I said.

“Exactly. Which gives us an advantage.”

“I get what you’re thinking, but even if Frederick sells the property, won’t Muratti hold a grudge?” I asked.

“He’s that kind, yes. But he’s also about to retire, and his son, Michael, is starting to take over the organization. Michael’s not as old-school mafia—no horse heads in beds—and he doesn’t see the point of flying off the handle if it’s bad business.”

I caught my dad’s eye. So far, that sounded promising.

“So once we’re clear, I think Michael will simply write your dad off as a bad bet and everyone will go on their way.”

“You think,” I repeated.

“There’s an element of wait and see, I won’t sugarcoat it. But unless you want to call in the Feds—and then we’d be talking about witness protection—this is the best we can do.”

“I got myself in deep, sweetie,” Daddy said. “I can take it.”

I nodded, then drew in a breath. “All right, then. So how are we getting him clear?”

“I have an idea,” Cole said. “Let me work out the details and I’ll let you know.”

I started to argue, then decided to stay quiet. I trusted this man, after all.

And that felt pretty damn good.

“So am I forgiven?” Cole asked when we were in his Range Rover.

“Let’s see,” I said, making a show of counting things out on my fingers. “You’ve got my dad under control, I have my closing tomorrow, and we just had really amazing sex. If you take me by my house so that I can gaze longingly at it, then yes, you’ll be forgiven.”

“I can do that,” he said, then reached over and stroked the back of my neck, a sweetly intimate gesture that sent shivers through me. “I like seeing you happy,” he said.

“Convenient, since I like being happy.”

It didn’t take us long to get to the house, and I once again unlocked the door using the combination I wasn’t supposed to know.

“Naughty girl,” he said. “But useful to have around.”

“This is the last time I get to live dangerously,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll own the place, and letting myself inside will be completely legitimate.”

He followed me over the threshold, then took my hand. With one quick tug, he pulled me close, hard and fast, so that I ended up crashing against him, then laughing as he cupped my ass. “I’m more than happy to provide the danger if that’s what you’re craving.”

“I like the sound of that,” I said, then curled myself around him for a long, slow kiss. “And I like doing that.”

“Once again, we’re in sync.” He drew back, then waved his arm to encompass the house. “Show me everything.”

I did, of course, dragging him through the house. Showing him every room, every closet, every nook and cranny. I told him where I planned to put my furniture, why I was certain I was going to need to add extra shelving, and exactly what kinds of vegetables I was determined to grow in my tiny backyard.

I showed him my bedroom, too. “I plan to spend a lot of time here,” I said. “And I don’t plan to be alone.”

“Lazy mornings reading the paper in bed?”

“I’m more of an aerobic kind of girl. I was thinking wild, hanging-from-the-chandelier sex. But we can relax with the paper afterward if you want.”

I saw the amusement flash in his eyes before he tilted his head up to the ceiling.

“Yeah,” I said, “I know. Buying a chandelier is at the very top of my to-do list. But despite that little flaw, what do you think?”

“I think you got an exceptional deal. Whoever owned it could have sold it for at least ten percent more—maybe twenty—if they’d bothered to do just a little bit of cosmetic work.”

“That’s what I thought. And since I no longer work at the coffee shop, I’ll have plenty of time to spend doing all that cosmetic stuff.”

He cocked his head. “When did this happen?”

“About the time my boss showed his true asshole colors and tried to screw over my ability to go to my closing and then enjoy my house.” I lifted a shoulder. “Fuck him. I can do just fine without him.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Cole said. “But if you need a paycheck, I believe you’re already technically employed at the gallery.”

I smirked. “Careful, or I’ll take you up on that.”