A house without locks

Lucien slept for nearly twelve hours.

The doctor said he needed rest, stitches, and time. He had a cracked rib and a concussion, but nothing

that would keep him from making everyone miserable once he recovered. Rowan considered that a good

sign.

Kael had arranged for him to stay in the penthouse, though Lucien complained that the guest room

looked like a hotel suite designed by a man who had never experienced joy.

“You have a problem with expensive furniture?” Rowan asked.

“I have a problem with furniture that looks like it would report me to the police if I spilled wine on

it.”

“You're welcome to sleep on the floor.”

Lucien grinned. “See? This is why I like you.”

Kael, standing by the kitchen island, gave him a flat look. “You like irritating me.”

“That too.”

The exchange almost felt ordinary. Rowan found himself watching them, noticing the way Lucien’s

jokes drew a reluctant response from Kael, and how Kael checked his brother’s medication without

making a show of it. For all their differences, they were still brothers. Whatever had happened between

them, some part of that bond remained.

When Lucien went back to bed, Rowan found Kael in the kitchen making coffee.

“You could have slept,” Rowan said.

“So could you.”

“I’m not the one who spent the night checking the security monitors.”

Kael poured coffee into two cups. “I sleep better when I know where everyone is.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

Rowan accepted his cup and leaned against the counter. The penthouse was quiet now. Sunlight came

through the tall windows, falling across the polished floor. It was strange to see the place in daylight. At

night, it felt like a fortress. In the morning, it almost looked like a home.

“Lucien said I should ask you about the night your father disappeared.”

Kael’s hand stopped around his cup.

“I wondered when you would bring that up.”

“Then you know there’s something to tell me.”

“There are things I haven’t told you.”

“That isn't the same as an answer.”

Kael set his cup down. “My father was meant to meet Elena that night. He told me it was business. I

found out later that he planned to give her access to our accounts and a list of our people. He was going to

trade the family to save himself.”

“And you stopped him?”

“I went to the meeting. He was already gone.”

“Gone where?”

“I don't know.”

Rowan searched his face. “Do you believe he’s dead?”

“I believe he would have contacted me if he could.”

It was not the answer Rowan expected. He had assumed Kael hated his father, perhaps even wanted

him dead. Instead, there was something unfinished in his voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because every time I thought about telling you, I remembered that I had a recording of your

conversations. I remembered the things I did to keep you close to me. I didn’t think I had earned the right

to ask you to trust me.”

Rowan looked away. The honesty did not erase what had happened, but it was harder to dismiss than

another polished excuse.

“I’m still angry about the recording,” he said.

“I know.”

“And I’m not going to pretend that the engagement is suddenly real because you held my hand in a

car.”

“I know that too.”

“But I don't want us to spend every minute waiting for the next attack.”

Kael’s expression shifted. “Neither do I.”

“Then we need rules that aren't about weapons or security.”

“Such as?”

“You tell me the truth, even when it makes you look bad. I tell you when I’m frightened instead of

pretending I can handle everything. And we try to have one normal meal a day.”

Kael considered this with the seriousness he gave to a business negotiation. “One meal?”

“One. Don't push your luck.”

“I can agree to that.”

Rowan took a sip of coffee. “And you’re going to stop standing in doorways like a haunted

bodyguard.”

“I don't do that.”

“You absolutely do.”

Kael almost smiled. “Anything else?”

“Let me see your shoulder.”

“It’s fine.”

“Kael.”

He sighed and unbuttoned his shirt enough for Rowan to inspect the bandage. The wound was

healing, though the skin around it was bruised. Rowan replaced the dressing carefully, his fingers gentle

against Kael’s skin.

“You should have gone to the hospital,” he muttered.

“You were busy rescuing my brother.”

“I can do both.”

Kael caught his wrist and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. It was so unexpected that Rowan forgot what

he was about to say.

“I’m trying,” Kael said quietly.

Rowan looked at him. “I can see that.”

For once, Kael did not reach for another promise. He simply stood there while Rowan finished the

bandage.

Later, they ate lunch at the dining table with Lucien complaining about the soup and Marcus

pretending not to listen. It was not a peaceful life, exactly. The security detail remained outside, and the

locked gates had not disappeared.

But when Rowan laughed at something Lucien said, Kael looked up from his plate and watched him

as though the sound had given the room something it had been missing.

Rowan noticed.

He did not look away.