A good bottle of wine in hand, Brundar knocked on Calypso’s door.

The smells coming from her apartment were mouth-watering, as was the woman who opened the way.

That strapless black dress would be the death of him.

As hunger seized him by the throat, not the kind that could be satisfied by the appetizing smells, he reached for her with his free hand and pulled her into his arms. She melted into him, parting her lips and sucking his tongue in as if her hunger was just as potent as his.

There was an easy solution to that. Lifting her up, he stepped in and kicked the door closed, then marched in the direction of her bedroom.

Calypso laughed. “Put me down. I didn’t spend all this time cooking for it to go to waste. Save that enthusiasm for after dinner.”

Brundar growled, but the sound that would’ve terrified a grown man had no effect on this woman.

She pushed on his chest. “Save that growling for later too. I prepared a feast for you, and I’m going to feed you first.”

Reluctantly, he put her down. “I would rather feast on something else.”

“Hold that thought.” She reached for the wine. “Let’s add this to the table. You didn’t even look at it.”

Fuck. Who could think about the table setting with her looking like that?

Women.

Sulking, he followed her back to the living room. It looked like Calypso had set the table for a romantic dinner for two, complete with candles and flowers and cloth napkins.

“It looks nice,” he said, thinking Calypso expected him to say something about it. Brundar couldn’t care less. He would’ve enjoyed this dinner just as much or even more if they were eating it at the kitchen counter.

She pulled out a chair. “Sit down. I’m going to serve you the best Italian food you ever had.”

He shook his head. “I should be the one pulling it out for you, not the other way around.”

She patted the back of the chair. “I’ll make you a deal. Whenever you take me out to a restaurant, I’ll wait patiently for you to do the gentlemanly thing.”

“Can’t I help in the kitchen or something?”

She chuckled. “Nope. You stay here and uncork the wine. That’s the only thing I’m allowing you to do other than eating and praising the cook. A few moans of pleasure are acceptable as well.”

“Mine or yours?” Relenting, he took the seat.

“Mine will come later.” She winked.

Brundar moaned. A lot. First when Calypso served the minestrone soup, which was the best he’d ever had, then his eyes rolled back in his head when he took the first bite of her lasagna. Even the salad was terrific, and he wasn’t big on salads or any other kinds of greens.

When she served the tiramisu, he was so full he felt his stomach had doubled in size.

Calypso smiled with satisfaction. “Well? Is my Italian better than Gino’s?”

“The food definitely. The language, I’m not sure. I’ve never heard you speak Italian.”

She poured him coffee from the carafe. “I’m afraid Gino wins in this department. I don’t speak anything other than English and a tiny bit of Spanish. Do you?”

“I know a few languages. Not well enough to speak, but I understand.” For some reason, absorbing new languages was easy for immortals. Naturally, some were better at it than others, but most were better than the average human.

“How about your brother, is he good with languages too?”

“Yes.” The last thing he wanted was to talk about Anandur.

“How about other family members?”

“I guess so.”

“I would really like to invite your brother to dinner. He doesn't have to bring a date when it’s here.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want him here.”

“Why?”

Stubborn woman. What did he have to do to make it clear meeting his family wasn’t on the table?

He couldn’t tell her she was a forbidden pleasure he shouldn’t have let himself indulge in, and that his family wouldn’t be happy about that indulgence. As long as him having a woman was just a rumor or a guess, no one could demand that he forsake her. As it was, he was living on borrowed time with her, he had no wish to shorten it.

“It’s complicated. I’m not supposed to have a relationship. It’s one of the conditions of my job. If anyone found out, I would be ordered to stop seeing you.”

Calypso’s lips tightened into a thin line as she glared at him.

“You’re lying.”

Her words felt like a punch to his gut. He might have omitted things and had twisted the truth when he had no choice, but he’d never outright lied to her.

“Are you really accusing me of being a liar?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. You’re lying straight to my face and not for the first time. Though I’ll be damned if I know why.”

“What in damnation are you talking about?”

“Your friend the professor. He is not your friend. You never even met him. The landlady told you about him when you rented the apartment for me. You could’ve told me the truth. You should’ve told me the truth. Why make up the story? So I will feel less guilty about accepting your generosity? I don’t understand.”

Fuck. He should’ve known Calypso would eventually find out. Except, when he’d come up with the story, he’d had no intention of having a relationship with her. All he’d wanted was for her to accept the apartment without argument, and if she later discovered the truth, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.

“I didn’t have any friends who needed a house sitter. But you needed a place to stay, and I knew you would refuse the apartment if you knew I was paying for it.”

“So you decided to lie about it.”

His palm landed on the table with a thud. “I did what I thought was right at the time. I wanted you safe, and frankly, I didn’t care if you learned about it later. I had no intention of having a relationship with you. I still don’t.”

“Why?” There were tears in her eyes.

Brundar was too angry to care.

She should be grateful and thank him for his kindness and generosity, not attack him as if he’d done something despicable. Other than the fucking apartment, which was a non-issue as far as he was concerned, he had been upfront with her as much as he could’ve been under the circumstances.

“Because I can’t, and I told you that time and again. I’m breaking the rules by being with you.”

“Why?” The tears were running freely down her cheeks. “Why are you breaking the rules for me?”

The woman was driving him mad, using her tears and her incessant questions like weapons and spurring his aggression.

An enemy holding a sword to Brundar’s throat would have been less of a provocation.

He did the only thing he could to regain control. Brundar retreated into the zone—the cold and unfeeling place that was his safe haven, where nothing could touch him. Including Calypso’s tears.

“It was a mistake.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Thank you for dinner.” He walked out.

Her sobs followed him all the way to his car. Intellectually, he acknowledged them and regretted causing her sorrow. Emotionally, he felt nothing.