"So would I. I don't know why, but I feel Daveen holds the key to the hidden areas of my life, the inconsistencies. I'd like to find him for myself. And for you."
"Would you?"
"First ask, could you? Your father may be dead, for all I know." He took her hand. "Narella—you don't want to stay here with Miguel?"
"No," she said.
"Good. Listen carefully. Does Miguel have big ears?"
She frowned. "I don't understand."
"Never mind. Come here."
She came close and he pulled her up against him. This time her lips rose willingly for the kiss, but he brushed her pale cheek instead and let his mouth graze lightly along her face until it reached the tip of her earlobe. "Does Miguel have this room wired for sound?" he whispered. "Can he hear what we say?"
She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Probably," she whispered back.
"That's what I thought. Stay close to me, then, and hear what I have to say. If he's watching he'll think we're making love."