"Then what do you care about?"
Glancing towards the kitchen windows, I imagine Saskia helping Mom cook. Did Maven ever teach her daughter anything besides violence? Probably not. I nearly smile to think of Saskia enjoying motherly affection. Then I instantly wonder if she can even appreciate it.
"I'm falling for Saskia."
"And why is that a problem?" he asks before adding, "Does she not share your feelings?"
"I don't know if she feels anything at all," I say, immediately hit by guilt as soon as the words leave my mouth.
Lawrence gives me a minute before asking, "Why do you feel that way?"
Despite this man feeling like a member of the family, I never consider sharing Saskia's history with him. I guess I'm protective of her and worry about what Lawrence might do with the knowledge of her criminal past.
"How can I tell the difference between lust and real feelings?" I ask, changing the subject.
"Lust is a real feeling."
"You know what I mean."
"I don't. By real, do you mean love?"
"Yeah, love."
"When you imagine being alone with Saskia, does your mind go to sex?"
Though I see us in bed, we're not having sex. I hold her in my arms while she studies me with her dark eyes before giving me a perfect smile.
"No," I mutter.
"You seem angry."
"I am angry. I know lust. When I was in Hollywood, I got dizzy from chasing so much tail. Those girls were hot and willing, and I wasn't looking for anything more than sex. I know lust."
"So what you feel for Saskia isn't lust."
"What if I can't feel more, though?"
"Not every relationship leads to love."
"I fucking know that," I growl, stepping away from him.
"So explain to me why this one needs to lead to love?"
"It doesn't."
"Are you afraid of Saskia's reaction if you can't love her?"
"No."
"She's a complicated woman with a complicated past."
I frown at him. "How do you know that?"
"She killed a man in self-defense a day earlier, and now she's cooking with Ruth. I'd assume for her to be so calm after a stressful event that she's likely lived a complicated life. Am I wrong?"
"No." I mutter, thinking of just how complicated Saskia's life has been.
"Was she upset after the shooting?"
"She was angry that I didn't hide like a little bitch while she took down the asshole."
"Since her job is to protect you, I can see her point."
"And I'm supposed to stand by while she's fighting an armed man?"
"Again, you hired her to do just that."
"Yeah, but she's my..."
Never losing his professional facade, he asks, "Girlfriend?"
"I guess."
"Is that why you two are on the outs? Is she still upset that you didn't hide like a bitch?"
"No."
"Why are you upset, Brad? Do you even know?"
Bouncing the ball again, I realize I don't know exactly why I'm angry. I mean I knew Saskia was a cold-blooded killer since day one. She never once seemed worried about either taking a life or a bullet.
"I love her," I say softly. "She brings something out in me. I feel different with her, and I don't want to lose that feeling."
"And you're worried she doesn't feel the same way?"
"I worry she can't feel the same way. What if she's too cold inside to ever love me or anyone else?"
"What makes you think that?"
Shooting the ball at the hoop, I'm not even close. "Fuck."
"Let's go for a walk."
Following him, I lose my anger. Now I'm miserable at the thought of Saskia being a damn sociopath incapable of loving anyone. I refuse to let her go, but I don't know if I can make her want to stay.
"Let me ask you something and I want you to think about it before answering."
"Fine," I say, patting Peter walking beside me.
"I know you and Saskia have slept together. Have you also spent time outside the bedroom together?"
"Yes."
"So you know her more than on a surface level, right?"
"I think so."
"Well, you've talked to her about topics that don't involve her job and sex, right?"
"Right," I mutter, losing my temper again.
"Do you think you could fall in love with her if she were dead inside? When I spoke to her the other day, she didn't even attempt to make me feel wanted. That doesn’t mean she is dead inside, though."
"She's like that in the beginning," I say defensively. "It's how she had to be to survive in her old life. She warms up over time."
"Does she show concern for you that doesn't involve her job?"
"Yes."
"This thing she did or said that made you worry she might be a sociopath, did she seem to feel bad about it?"
"No."
"Do you think she should?"
Frowning, I stop and look back at the house. "I would."