I shrug. “James is very nice too.”

“He’s insane. They all say he’s insane. He went off that first year to do his killing and he came back damaged behind repair.”

“Do you know what happened?” I bite my lip, not really sure if I want to know or not.

“Everyone knows what happened.”

“Everyone but me.”

He’s silent as he mixes up the batter, his motions unhurried and deliberate. Like he’s made a lot of waffles in his life and he knows just what to do. There’s no recipe either. He just threw some things in a bowl.

“Will you tell me?”

“Do you really want to know?” He looks over his shoulder again. “I should tell you. Then maybe you’ll change your mind about him and settle for this life instead.”

“Do you want me if I have to settle?”

“I want you any way I can get you.” He finishes his mixing and sets the bowl aside before turning around to face me. “But it’s not fair to take you. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to our future children.”

God. He’s handsome. I can’t deny it. He’s so much like James. “I don’t think it would change my mind if I knew what happened to him. I think it would make me love him more.”

“Huh,” Vincent says as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I doubt that.”

“Tell me, then. Maybe this is your chance to win me over.”

He stares hard at me. His gaze is like steel. Cold and hard. He doesn’t look like the man who’s been trying to win me these past few days. He looks like I’ve pushed him past his breaking point. Like this confrontation with his mother was the last straw. “Twelve years ago James Fenici went on a mission to Central America and never came back.”

“He came back. He just came back later than expected.”

But Vincent shakes his head. “No. James never came back. Tet came back.”

“He’s not two people, Vincent. He’s just James.”

“He’s not two people, you’re right. He’s just Tet. James died in that Honduran prison. They starved him. Deprived him of water. Of basic facilities. They locked him in a cell that was not long enough to stretch out and not tall enough to stand up. And when it became clear that the Company wasn’t going to negotiate to get him back, even though he was the son of one of the most powerful elite members, they made him a slave and tortured him.”

I’m stuck on the word slave.

“But we all get mentors when we come of age. And James got One as his mentor. One. The same man who tried to kill you last week is the man who saved James that first year. It was a large debt to owe. Do you understand that?”

I never stop looking at Vincent. I can’t take my eyes off him. His arm muscles are contracting even as he tries to keep them steady across his chest. His jaw is clenching again. His hands are squeezed together into fists. “I don’t understand it, Vincent. I don’t know what that means to have a large debt.”

“Neither did James.”

Vincent turns around and starts pouring batter into the waffle iron. I watch him work and then when he’s done, he closes the lid and pushes a button before turning back to me. He looks slightly calmer than he did, but he’s still very tense.

“It means he owed One his life. He owed One his loyalty. He owed One everything. So every time One came to him with a request, James had to say yes.”

My heart is beating faster now. “What did he say yes to?”

“Vengeance murders. Drug dealing. Torture. And…” The waffle iron beeps and he turns to flip it over.

“And what else?”

“And… he kept secrets. Secrets One had. Secrets that need to be told.”

I wait for Vincent to elaborate, but he keeps his back to me. “That’s not enough,” I tell his back. “That’s not enough to change my mind about him.”

“That’s because you have no details, Miss Tate.” He turns his attention back to me. “The details are what change the hearts and minds.”

“He told me he killed hundreds of people. He told me all this. But I’m a killer too. You know that. I’m not innocent. I keep secrets. I have lots of secrets. Secrets about very bad men.”

“James Fenici is the worst of all those very bad men, Harper. The worst.”

“What secrets then? If the devil’s in the details, then give me details.”

Vincent lifts the waffles out of the waffle iron with a fork and plops them down on a plate. The delicious smell is in stark contrast to the conversation we’re having. It feels surreal. He spreads some butter over the little checkered pattern in the pastry, then dribbles maple syrup on top. His fingertips reach into a bag of powdered sugar and he flicks that over the syrup until it’s coated in white specks.

He walks the plate over to me and sets it down on the metal counter with a ting that rings through the room. “Fork?” he asks, holding one out for me.

“Thank you.” I take the fork and cut a little piece of waffle off as he leans over the counter and watches. I bring it to my mouth and for some reason, eating in front of him stirs me. My sex throbs for a moment as I take in the food and realize his gaze is trained on me. Only me. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

The smile wipes away the tense conversation and his eyes light up a bit. “Feed me.” And then he sends me a wicked grin that makes the throbbing grow.