Charles pressed a firm kiss to Ebony's forehead, lingering for a second before doing the same to Ashley.
"We'll be back before dinner," Charles promised, his hand resting on the doorknob. "Keep the deadbolts thrown."
"We will," Ashley said.
Marjorie kissed both of her daughters' cheeks, her dark eyes entirely serious. She shot one final, heavily weighted look at Raphael across the kitchen—a silent command to keep them safe—before stepping out the door with her husband.
The heavy iron deadbolts clicked securely into place.
The second the lock engaged, Ashley spun around, pointing a finger directly at Ebony and Raphael.
"Alright. The parental units are gone," Ashley announced, leaning her elbows on the granite island. "Spill it. What exactly happened out there in the garden?"
Ebony let out a long breath, slumping slightly against the counter. "Mom basically threatened a homicide detective with gardening metaphors."
Raphael, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest, gave a singular nod of respect. "It was highly effective."
"Cruz wanted me to admit that I remembered what happened in the alley," Ebony explained, rubbing her temples. "He was definitely fishing. But Ramos, his partner, was just mad that someone blew up the warehouse at the docks. They didn't get anything out of us."
Before Ashley could ask for the details on the warehouse explosion, the kitchen door swung open.
Thiago strolled in, grabbing an apple from a ceramic bowl on the counter. "Boss. We have company."
Dante wandered in right behind him, holding a fresh mug of coffee. "If you can genuinely call it that. An unmarked NOPD cruiser just rolled to a stop down the block."
Ebony's heart spiked. "They came back?"
"Not Cruz and Ramos," Dante said, taking a sip of his coffee. A highly amused smirk played on his lips. "It's a dark blue sedan sitting directly under a streetlamp. The guy in the passenger seat is literally eating a powdered donut. He keeps staring at the house with binoculars."
Mateo laughed loudly from the living room. "Are they serious? A toddler playing hide-and-seek behind a sheer curtain has better tactical awareness."
Isaías's deep, rumbling voice drifted in from the couch. "Should I go tap on their window and offer them napkins for the powdered sugar?"
Ashley snorted, covering her mouth.
Raphael didn't crack a smile. "Leave them. The visible police presence deters the mundane street gangs from wandering onto the block. It works to our advantage for now."
Ashley looked up at the digital clock on the microwave and groaned. "Crap. It's past one. I need to run into Baptiste's to check the inventory deliveries and prep the kitchen before we open for dinner service."
She pushed off the island, untying her flour-dusted apron. "I'm gonna go upstairs, shower, and get dressed. You guys play nice. Don't break my parents' furniture."
"We are perfect gentlemen," Mateo called out innocently.
Ashley rolled her eyes and headed up the wooden stairs, leaving the kitchen entirely quiet.
Thiago and Dante took the hint, smoothly retreating back into the living room to resume their watch, pulling the sliding pocket doors halfway shut behind them to give their boss some privacy.
Suddenly, Ebony was alone in the kitchen with Raphael.
The silence wasn't the comfortable, easy quiet of her family. It was thick. It felt heavy and pressurized, like the air right before a thunderstorm breaks.
Ebony grabbed a damp dish towel and started wiping down the granite island. It was already spotless, but she desperately needed something to do with her hands. She could feel the sheer, magnetic gravity of him standing across the room. It pulled at her, an undeniable, irrational current that made her skin run hot.
Raphael watched her. He wanted to bridge the physical gap between them. He wanted to pull the damp cloth out of her hands, wrap her up, and let her crash after the adrenaline of the morning. But he was a warrior, not a therapist, and his protective instincts were blunt instruments.
"You're going to rub the finish off the granite," Raphael noted, his voice a low rumble.
Ebony stopped, tossing the towel down into the sink with a sigh. "Right. Sorry. Nervous habit."
Raphael took a slow step closer. "You don't have to be nervous. The police are sitting outside. My men have the perimeter. You are entirely safe."
"I know," Ebony said, crossing her arms defensively. "You keep saying that."
"Because you keep forgetting to breathe," he pointed out.
She looked up at him. He was gorgeous, terrifying, and completely unreadable. "It's just... a lot. My parents are hiding something massive about who I am. They were right on the edge of telling me, and then the cops knocked. You clearly know what my parents are hiding, but you won't tell me. And now my house is basically a military bunker."
Raphael stepped into her space. He was so incredibly tall, his broad shoulders blocking out the sunlight from the window. "I'm not keeping secrets to hurt you, Ebony. It's simply not my place to tell your parents' story."
"So you're just the highly lethal, extremely secretive bodyguard," she countered, trying to use sarcasm to build a wall between them.
"I am here to protect you."
"Why?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. "I can't pay you. I don't have corporate money."
Raphael's golden eyes darkened instantly. He stepped even closer, completely erasing the safe distance between them. He wanted to tell her exactly why. He wanted to say, Because you are mine. But he couldn't. Not yet. It was too soon, and she was too fragile.
"Money is irrelevant," Raphael said, his voice dropping into a rough, intimate register that made her stomach completely flip. "I protect what is important."
The magnetic pull flared between them, intense and intoxicating. Ebony's breath hitched. She looked at his mouth, then up to his burning eyes. It was too much. The sheer weight of his attention felt like standing too close to an open fire. Panic—not of him, but of the terrifying intensity of her own feelings—spiked in her chest.
She took a clumsy half-step backward, retreating. "I... I should probably go upstairs and check on Ashley. Make sure she doesn't need help."
Raphael's heavy jaw tightened with an audible click.
He saw her retreat. His inner beast, operating on raw instinct, instantly registered the step backward as rejection. He locked his emotions down immediately, pulling his aura back to avoid overwhelming her. He stepped away, putting rigid, formal distance between them.
"Of course," Raphael said, his tone instantly going flat and professional. "Go."
Ebony hesitated. She instantly regretted stepping back. She wanted to bridge the gap, to explain that she wasn't running from him, but her brain was entirely tangled.
"Thanks," she stammered, awkwardly gesturing between them. "For the... the protection."
Raphael gave a stiff, highly controlled nod. "It is my duty."
Ouch. The word felt like a door slamming shut. Ebony winced internally, realizing they had completely derailed whatever moment was just happening.
"Right. Duty," she muttered. She turned and practically fled the kitchen, hurrying up the stairs, leaving the massive man standing alone in the sunlight, both of them quietly cursing themselves for missing the mark entirely.