Three weeks. Hmmm. That feels of. Ella left San Francisco in late August. It’s October. So Neuville’s claim that he’s been looking for her for a week might work, but it means that Ella and her iancé broke up almost immediately after arriving in Paris. It also means that if Ella intended to come back to school for her October 1 schedule, she had waited until the last minute to have her passport reissued. But wouldn’t Blake have discovered it had been reissued when he investigated her travel?

My thought process is waylaid as the bathroom door opens, and my skin prickles with warning even before I see Isabel in the mirror. Instantly stifening, I turn to face her, readying myself for whatever comes next. And something is coming. It’s in the crackle of the air.

She shuts the door and crosses her arms over her chest as she had when I’d headed up the stairs; she has another smug look on her face. I’m starting to think it’s her permanent makeup. “You actually think he’s yours, don’t you?” she purrs, as if it amuses her.

“Talk about getting right down to business,” I say. “At least we aren’t going to play the fake-niceties game. He is mine.”

She takes a step closer to me. And another. I curl my ingers into my palms but I don’t move. She doesn’t have a whip sharp enough to intimidate me. “Until he needs more,” she promises.

“The kind of ‘more’ only I can give him.”

Anger lights me up like ire and my nails dig into the soft lesh of my palms. “If you mean until he needs pain, he won’t.”

She inches even closer, way beyond my personal space.

We’re toe-to-toe now and I can smell her loral perfume over the candle. It turns my stomach. “He will need pain,” she promises. “He always has and he always will.”

“You want him to think he does, because you think that means he needs you. Only he never needed you. It was the object you held in your hand. The whip anyone else can hold, if they’re a big enough bitch to do it.”

Her eyes light with fury and she snaps. One second I’m watching her livid expression turn her beautiful face ugly, the next she explodes at me, shoving me hard against the narrow wall behind me. I gasp with the impact, feeling sharp pain in my left shoulder. Her hands are still on me, pressing into me, holding me captive.

“You’re the bitch,” she hisses. “You’re nothing, just one of his many attempts to deny what he really needs. He’ll fail this time, like always. And when he comes back to me I’ll f**k him extra hard, sweetheart, just for you. Maybe I’ll add an extra few lashes with your name on them, too.”

That’s it. My shock at her attack morphs into anger and adrenaline rockets through me. Without a conscious thought to act, I shove her backward and keep moving until she slams against the wall. The air woofs out of her and I hold her by the shoulders like she had me. My arms shake with the force of white-hot anger.

“No,” I grind out through my teeth, “he won’t come back to you. You know why? Because I won’t ever let him hurt that bad again, and I won’t hurt him. And I damn sure won’t let you hurt him.”

The door opens abruptly and I don’t have to look to know it’s Chris. I keep my stare on Isabel, but I feel him. I always feel him.

“Problem?” he asks, sounding rather amused.

“No problem,” I say coolly, still focused on the wicked witch of whips. She isn’t looking at me or Chris. Her lashes have lowered, and I sense her anger has transformed into something else. I don’t know what and I don’t care, either. I just want her out of Chris’s life.

I let go of her and turn to Chris. “Are we ready to go?”

He arches a brow, the amusement I’d heard in his voice lighting his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

“I’ve done what I had to do here.”

“Then by all means. Let’s get out of here.” He draws my hand in his and we head down the hallway together, leaving Isabel where she belongs: in Chris’s past. I know Chris believes she’s there already, but I’m going to make sure he knows how true that is.

We make our way through the bar and dining area and straight to the coat check. Once we step outside and start walking 232

down the block toward the car, I ask the question burning in my mind. “What happened with Neuville?”

“We did the typical ‘swordight,’ as you like to call it—and, as usual, it was highly unproductive. Rey is meeting us at the house to get an update so he and his brother can start following up on Neuville’s claims. What happened with you and Isabel?”

“We did the typical ‘catight,’ only ours was productive.”

He arches a brow. “Was it, now?”

Maybe I’ll add an extra few lashes with your name on them, too.

I hear Isabel’s words in my head and a whirlwind of emotions expand in my chest. I glance around, desperate for privacy, and I ind the perfect place. I surprise Chris and shove him toward an alcove in front of a door where we’re alone, behind a wall, the shadows enguling us.

I look up at him, letting my eyes adjust to the shadows. “Do you remember when you shoved me into a corner like this one and warned me away from the gallery and from you?”

“I remember very well.”

“You didn’t scare me of then, and you won’t scare me of now, or ever. But I lied to both of us when I said I’d watch your pain if that’s what you needed. I won’t watch. I won’t let you be hurt again. I won’t let you need that again. We need each other.

We have each other. I love—”

He kisses me, a deep, heat-me-all-over, curl-my-toes, passionate kiss, and I melt into him. How had I ever doubted my decision to follow him to Paris? He is my home. He is my soul.

“I love you, too,” he says, his voice deep, thick with emotion.

“And I’ve already told you. I only need you.”

“No. You’ve never promised me you won’t ever need that kind of escape again, Chris—but I’m not asking you to. I’m promising you that you won’t. I will be here for you.”

He stares down at me, and that edgy, mysterious Chris is clear and present. “I really have done a damn good job of corrupting you, haven’t I? Straight to hell and the dark side, and asking for more.”

“Yes.” I wrap my arms around him. “Please take me home and corrupt me some more.”

I expect him to argue, to warn me away, but he doesn’t. His hand cups the back of my head and he brings my mouth to his.

“I can’t wait.” Then he kisses me again.

Twenty

An hour later, Chris and I sit on the couch behind his desk in front of the dragon mural, and Rey is leaning on the desk facing us, giving us his perspective on Neuville.

“Finding out if anyone saw Ella with him isn’t going to be a problem,” he assures us, “but inding out details on Neuville’s intimate personal and inancial afairs is another story. His associations have long had him on law enforcement’s radar, but no one has ever been able to connect him to anything illegal.”

“What kind of associations?” I glance at Chris. “What haven’t you told me?”

Chris sighs, casting Rey an irritated look. “Thank you, Rey.”

Alarm bells are ringing. I should have asked why Chris didn’t like Neuville. “Tell me what this is about.” My voice wavers with a hint of demand and dread. I want to know, but already know I’m not going to like what I’m told.

Chris dodges giving me an answer. “Everything is speculation.”

“Stop avoiding a proper answer,” I warn. “Share the speculation.” Chris’s jaw tenses, and still he gives me no reply.

“He’s long been suspected of a connection to the mob,”

Rey supplies.

“A mob connection!” I’m on my feet. “Ella was involved with someone in the mob?”

Chris reaches for my hand. “Sara, baby. Calm down.”

“Calm down? Did you really just tell me to calm down?

That’s not a smart reply at this moment, Chris Merit. Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I think this is my cue to head out,” Rey murmurs. “I’ll call you, Chris.”

“Coward,” Chris grumbles. “You open your mouth and run away.”

“I’m smart like that,” Rey agrees, and his footsteps soon fade up the stairs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand of Chris again, ignoring their exchange.

Chris stands up, towering over me, his hands coming down on my shoulders. “This is why. Your reaction is exactly what I expected.”

“Don’t not tell me something just because I might not like it. That’s not how we do things. That’s not what I expect of you.”

He shuts his eyes for a moment and then opens them again.

“It’s not fact, and all it’s doing is upsetting you.” He leans me against the desk and I sit on the edge as he continues. “But this is why I wanted you out of Paris when his name came up. Once you insisted on staying, I decided to bring you with me today for two reasons. I wanted him to see that you’re under my protection, and that you don’t know where Ella is, either. So he’ll lose interest in you now.”

A million possibilities ly through my mind about what this means for Ella. “What if she’s—”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Chris warns. “Neuville doesn’t think Ella’s dead, or he wouldn’t be looking for her. He has a lot of money and so do I. With both of us looking for Ella, the chances of inding her are high. This is good. Not bad.”

My racing pulse slows slightly. “Why would he want to ind a woman, one he just met a month ago, this badly?”

“Sara, a month after we met, I would have spent every dime I have to ind you. We don’t know what happened between them in those three weeks. We don’t know if this is really anything more than a man infatuated with a woman.”

A bit of hope blossoms inside me. “Maybe he really cares for her, and that’s why he wants to ind her?”

“We don’t know,” Chris says. “That’s the point. If his story checks out and she lived with him even for a short time, it suggests a relationship. And if she was in that relationship up until a week ago, we have every reason to believe she’s living a new life and simply left her past behind.”

“She has to go back to America after ninety days from her arrival because of her passport, right? There’s no exception to this.”

“She has to return,” he agrees. “And that’s the way we’ll ind her if we don’t catch up with her sooner.”

The ight in me fades and my voice softens. “That’s late next month.” My gaze falls to his chest. “I don’t know what to do about Ella.”

His inger slides under my chin. “You’ve done everything you can—and Sara, she might be ine and you’re worrying for nothing. It sounds like she is.”

I glance up at him. “I know. I just . . . I have you, but not so long ago I was just like Rebecca. There was no one to look for me if I was lost.”

“Mark would have looked for Rebecca if he’d known she was due back in San Francisco, Sara. He told me he thought she’d blown him of.”

“You wouldn’t have let me run like she did. You care about me. He let her. She was alone. Ella is alone, Chris. If she’s blowing me of then ine. She’s blowing me of, but I can’t do that to her.”

“We aren’t blowing her of. We’re trying to ind her.” His hands gently caress my hair. “I’m glad you know that I would come after you now. You didn’t always.” He settles his palms on either side of me on the desk and studies me a moment.

Thankful for what this beautiful man has added to my life, I reach out and play with a spiky lock of his blond hair. “I know now. That’s what counts.” I purse my lips at my momentary distraction. “I haven’t forgotten what we’re talking about. You aren’t of the hook. You should have told me about the mob connection.”

“If I tell you I was protecting you, you’re going to come unglued, aren’t you?”

My ingers fall from his hair. “Yes.”

Obviously ighting a smile, he says, “Then I won’t tell you. I think . . . hmmm, yes . . . this would be a good time for me to show you a way to escape.”

My pulse is racing all over again. “Escape?” I ask for one of his “escapes” all of the time. He never gives them to me. He always says it’s not the right time or I’m not ready. He never volunteers.

“I have something to show you,” he adds, and there is a deinitive, sensual gleam in his eyes. “Take your clothes of.” He reaches for his shirt and pulls it over his head.

I’m used to Chris ordering me to take of my clothes but, for once, he’s getting na**d at the same time as I am rather than playing the power card of watching. And while I mean to join him in the process of undressing, his shirt comes of and my mouth goes dry. I think I’ll take a moment and enjoy the view.

I stall, hoping for more skin and a longer show. “We need to be na**d for you to show me whatever you want to show me?”

“Yes.” He sits down to take of his boots. “Get na**d and I’ll show you.” He stands up, towering over me again. I forget how tall he is sometimes, but I never forget how deliciously male he is. He arches a blond brow. “Need help?”

My sex clenches and my ni**les tighten. My entire body knows I’m about to delve into new territory. It’s in the air. It’s in the lecks of ire dancing in his eyes.