Violet didn’t know what else there was. “Table’s open, so to speak.”
“Are you seeing someone else?”
She damn near choked on the sip of coffee she had just taken in as he asked the question. Putting the cup down to the island, she cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon?”
“Someone else. I want to know if you are fucking someone else,” he clarified calmly.
“And if I was?”
“That would be a problem.”
Violet steeled her spine, irritated in a blink. “We’re not an item, Kaz, or a couple. You don’t get a say in any other relationship I may or may not have, just because we had sex.”
His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, and he laughed a husky sound. “You’re right, I don’t.”
“Then don’t ask if you know.”
“But I intend to,” Kaz said just as fast, his gaze cutting to hers. “Us, and this. I intend to be something with you, and I think, based on the fact you keep coming back and also last night, that’s exactly what you want, too. And so, no, I won’t have other men to compete with or concern myself over that you might be seeing.”
Violet swallowed hard, but she appreciated his candor. “What I said still stands, though. We’re not something. You don’t get to ask.”
“And I still want an answer.”
“Kaz.”
He cocked a brow at her, never wavering. “An answer.”
“What if I asked you the same thing,” Violet shot back.
“I would answer.”
“What would it be?”
“One that would please you,” Kaz said simply, still unbothered and watching her. “And probably surprise you.”
Violet sighed. “What are you trying to say here?”
“Exactly what I already told you. You’re going to keep coming back here. I’m going to keep letting you. And that makes us something. Answer me, please.”
“There’s no one else,” she said, letting the confession slip out before she could think better of it.
Kaz straightened on the stool, his smug grin firmly back in place. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Perfect,” he said.
She didn’t quite know what to think as he picked up his fork and began eating again. But she couldn’t deny that his intentions were entirely too appealing.
Kaz understood far too well how quickly things could change—because of a look, a conversation, or even a thought. He shouldn’t have been surprised that it happened to him and Violet, not when he knew better.
Yet, ever since their conversation over breakfast, everything had changed.
Over the span of two weeks, Kaz had made sure that he always made time for Violet, no matter when she reached out. It could have been mid-afternoon, the wee hours of the morning, and occasionally when he was in the middle of a meeting, it didn’t matter. He kept his phone at his side like a lifeline, never letting it out of his sight.
“You’ve been busy a lot, Cap,” Abram commented, glancing over at Kaz from his position in the driver’s seat.
It wasn’t often that Kaz let anyone drive him—most people were shit drivers in his opinion—but Abram refused to let anyone else behind the wheel of his truck. Besides, he wasn’t letting the man in his own, not when Violet was regularly riding in it, and while they were careful, there was still no guarantee that she hadn’t left some small trace of her presence.
“Oh?” Kaz didn’t want to indulge in the conversation, but if there was one thing he knew, if Abram asked any questions, somebody else had asked them first.
“Yeah.”
“I have better shit to do than to sit around asking about things that don’t concern me,” Kaz responded absently, his mind elsewhere.
Abram, now smiling, looked back to the road. “You see, my guess is, it’s a woman. You seem like the type to keep that kind of thing pretty hush.”
Were they really having this conversation? “Then why are you asking?”
“Can’t hurt to try. Never be afraid to ask questions you want answers to—someone once told me that.”
Kaz, feeling the beginnings of a migraine coming on, counted backward from ten in his head. “I told you that, Abram.”
He snapped his fingers. “Of course you did.”
“Just park the fucking car so we can get this done.”
“So about—”
“Fuck off, Abram.”
The man had no shame, laughing even as he swung the truck into a smooth parallel park. Kaz was out in seconds, crossing the short distance into the restaurant owned by a good friend of his—Abram stayed behind to watch his truck.
The restaurant was located just a few miles outside of Little Odessa, and was one of the few places outside of his circle that he frequented on a semi-regular basis. He was a friend of the family—not a part of the Bratva however—that dabbled in trade. If a person needed something from another, he was the man to go to.