"Cato Leveque," he states. "What'd he tell you?"

Cato. He's dragged me out here to his smokey apartment to question me about Cato. Of course he wasn't interested in me, because he sees me as a tool he can use to get back at my master's son.

Cato might drive me wild, but I'm not a rat just aching to confess every secret about him. There are inadequacies that I know of him from our time as children, and I'm not willing to spill it out just to a random, handsome stranger.

"Cato?" my heart sinks into my stomach. "Is that what this is about?"

"You see, after I spoke with you in the courtyard, I went back inside. Cato left and went up the stairs, and I saw him go into your bedroom last evening. What'd he say to you?"

I clench the blanket around my shoulders with tight fists. So Thomas was spying on me. In the garden. Down the hallways to my bedroom.

"Stalker," I spit at him. "It's not nice to pry in someone's personal life like this."

He shrugs. "I have a job to do."

"Then do the job somewhere else, with someone else."

"You're really a tough one to crack, aren't ya?"

I shake my head. "Why am I important to you? If you want to know about Cato, ask him yourself."

"How often does he visit his parents?" Thomas questions curiously, as if he didn't hear what I just said.

"Thomas, I'm not talking to you about Cato."

He didn't like that answer. Not one bit.

A tendon stiffens from within his neck as he leans forward, setting his large hands on his knees. "I don't know what Cato's shown you, but you need to throw everything you know about him out the fucking window."

"Like I should be taking advice from you."

"He's dangerous, Maureen," he uses my name for once instead of 'daffodil'. "Word got out about his latest discovery from hell knows where in outer space. He tell you what it was?"

Cato mentioned very little about his discoveries, even after asking if he could tell me about them. Instead, he offered to one day, show me them with my own eyes himself.

"I'm not telling you anything about Cato."

He taps his fingers, the speed accelerating as his patience dwindles. "I didn't realize that he'd be such a sensitive topic for you."

"I just-" I hold my tongue. I can't confess feelings for Cato here. Not to him. "I just don't know who you are. How can I trust you? You brought me up to your apartment, you steal me from work, you stalk me on the Leveque's property-"

"I thought we started over. Those don't count."

"I'm not someone who just forgets," I look away from those magnetizing blue irises. "The world has a way of making things happen for a reason, doesn't it?"

He leans forward a bit, intrigued by my voice.

"So, you love him," Thomas mutters the assumption, his tone bitter. What does this have to do with Cato's discoveries? "He's a dick, you know. A fucking asshole."

The words cut me right in the heart, opening up a wildfire of rage that consumes me. I spring up from the chair, fists clenched tightly until my knuckles turn white. "You don't know Cato Leveque like I do. He's not dangerous." I gnaw at my lip, the pain of it preventing me from lashing out. "Now if you excuse me, I'm going back to the Leveque's estate-"

I turn to leave as Thomas snatches my wrist. With one swift tug, he tows me back towards him. I tumble down onto the couch to his chest, onto his lap. Our noses brush, a delicate intimate caress, and I fall in awe of those heavenly blue eyes. This man already proves to be stubborn, more bullheaded than Cato ever was. Yet, there's a kindness inside of Thomas, an authenticity so rare in the city of New Aberdeen.

Maybe it's what gravitates me towards him. These sharp words between us might only be a cover for the dominating attraction underneath.

Up close, I study him. He appears even more like a dream. There's a faint scar that travels from the corner of his left eye down to his lips. His soft kissable lips. He closes his eyes, brushing his nose against my cheek, until those pretty lips press against my ear. He hums-emanating an almost deep vibratory growl-as I settle into his arms.

In a matter of seconds, I've gone from completely frustrated to at this man's mercy.

"I'll pay you triple of what you earn at the hospital," Thomas murmurs to me. "And all I need you to do is keep tabs on Cato for me."

"That's if he ever returns to Audwin and Evelyn's estate. He's been at his own manor for the past week."

Thomas' attention flickers down to my lips, then back up to me. "Then we'll have to find a way to get in."

"You'll have to find a way," I correct.

"Have I not won you over yet?" he brushes his thumb against the corner of my mouth, leaving warm electricity in its wake.

"I'm not something you can win," I push myself off his chest and off his lap, but his fingers snag onto mine, tugging me back against his warm skin.

Damn him.

I lose the fight, a fight that I secretly don't mind losing.

He fondles with the bandages on my cracked knuckles. They're smeared with blood, and I can't tell if it's my own or remnants from the hospital floors. It doesn't matter now, because it still looks brutal to the eye.

Thomas keeps himself close as I feel his fingertips wander up my lower back, tracing circles and rivulets like the tattoos on his arms.

"I would never leave you with bandaged knuckles," Thomas vows. "You work for me, and I give you time to heal again."

"They're really not that bad," I mutter, to which Thomas unravels the cloth.

Scabs blemish my porcelain skin like a rash. Each joint decorates itself with crimson cuts and deep gashes. Skin peals as it grows red and swollen. I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt.

Thomas runs his knuckles over mine, the pain vanishing at his touch. "Cato brought something back from outer space that he never disclosed to the public. Apparently it's heavily guarded."

"How do you know this?" I ask, clasping his fingers and distracting myself by playing with them. He lets me.

"I have an inside resource."

"Then why can't you ask them to watch Cato?"

"Because you can seduce him. Cato keeps his research under high observation, so if you do a little bit of sweet talk and bat those pretty little eyelashes, we might get somewhere."

His plan keeps getting crazier with every passing minute. Telling me to seduce Cato only brings me down to the same level as my mother, and I cannot fall into her same footsteps.

I scowl. "You're an asshole to think that I'd be a seductress."

"You're already doing one heck of a job."

"I am not!"

"Just settle the fuck down," he grits his teeth. "The more pissed you are, the more irresistible you get."

"What do you mean-" Oh.

He adjusts me on his lap, and I feel the hard pressure of him underneath my rear. I blush, my cheeks raving mad with heat, but even Thomas suddenly becomes bashful. He avoids my gaze, already showing a weakness by admitting that my mere presence arouses him.

I purposely roll my rear against him, just a slight subtle roll, but it's enough to cause him to close eyes his and release a soft, pleasured moan.

Thomas brushes his knuckles over my cheek, combing my rain-plastered locks of blonde hair behind my ear. My eyes fall down to his tattooed bicep, catching images of a dragon spiraling around his elbow. There's a date inked on his forearm in roman numerals. I touch the ink, tracing the designs on his skin before he takes hold of my broken and scabbed fingers.

He brings them to his lips, placing a tepid kiss against each wound.

I force myself to break the trance between us. "You're still a stranger to me."

He lifts his blue eyes, lowering my fingers from his lips. "Work for me, daffodil. Get to know me."

I open my mouth to speak, but the once intimate moment spelled between us breaks by a harsh knocking on his apartment door.

"Fucking shit," he mutters as he sets me down on the couch.

I sit there, dazed, coming to terms with the consequences of my actions. What just happened? Was I touching him? No, it was more than just touch. I ground myself against him, against his ever-growing hardness, and I liked it. He liked it more, judging by the sounds.

I just accused him of thinking of me as a seductress and then there was just blue. Pure blue eyes.

Thomas opens the door up a crack. "What the fuck do you want?"

"They've made an arrest," the voice answers.

Thomas' back stiffens as he sneaks his arm underneath his shirt. His inked hand clasps around the hilt of a metallic weapon tucked hidden beneath his clothes, slowly, patiently. A gun.

"And?" Thomas' voice purrs.

"It was Callen, sir."

"Callen-the one who I sent undercover to be a fucking puppet for the captain?"

"Yes, he was gathering the codes you requested and he got caught-"

"Son of a bitch," Thomas's fingers flex tightly against the hilt. "I sent you with him, didn't I? You were both responsible for the codes."

I can almost hear the stranger gulp in fear. For the first time, the true image of 'Thomas' unveils itself, and he's not the tuxedoed man I met back at the Leveque's party. Cato might rule the stars, but as I study the gun strapped to Thomas' body, I know this man before me rules the streets.

Thomas' voice drops to a wolfish growl. "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back. Ever. You know nothing of this place."

"Sir, Callen didn't mean to get caught. I swear! And I need the job-"

"Get out!" he shouts. "I'm not this generous, so go before I put a bullet in your goddamn skull."

Thomas slams the door and removes his fingers from the gun, letting his loose shirt hide it beneath his clothes. His jaw tenses, and the ocean of his blue eyes rages in dark whirlpools. I can tell all he wants to do is nurse a cigarette.

He finally breaks the silence. "I'm sorry for wasting your time. I'll bring you back to the Leveque's estate."

"Who was that?" I quiver. "And the gun?"

"Daffodil," the tone of his voice silences me. I've only asked two questions, and he won't answer either.

It's still raining when he guides me back into his car. Although he says nothing, he cracks the windows open to alleviate me from the smell of smoke. We ride down the dark roads, streetlights blurred in the puddles gathering on the cobblestone.

Thomas drives with one hand on the wheel, the other flexing with irritation near the gear shift. I set my hand on top of his own. Why? Hell knows, but just running my fingertips over his skin causes my body to heat up, and I wonder if he feels that same heat too. I wedge my fingers between his, and he accepts, letting his thumb rub against mine.

But indulging in his subtle touches only lasts for a blink of time.

He pulls up to the estate's gate.

"I'm sorry that your, um, offer for work didn't pan out," I give him one last smile. "Thanks for kidnapping me and spying on me."

His lips curve upward so beautifully. "This won't be the last time our paths cross, daffodil."

As he drives away, all I can hear is his voice in my head uttering that perfect nickname:

Daffodil.

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Even I, the author, want to find a real-life Thomas someday.

Share your thoughts on their encounter!

Updated August 6, 2022.