He gave a short quiet laugh. “I noticed, baby. If the clothes didn’t give a clue—his girly scream confirmed it.”

“Poor Simon. I invited him to the wedding, you know. He wanted to wear a new Italian suit in leaf green that he saw in a shop in Milan.” I tried for the tiniest bit of teasing.

“Awesome.” He sighed. “I’ll ring him tomorrow and apologize.”

“Thank you.”

But Ethan wasn’t done airing his feelings. He had more he wanted to say. “What I hate is people seeing your body in the photographs. Men see you. Men like me see you naked and they want to f**k you. Brynne, that is the part I hate, because I don’t want anyone to look at you like that and think those thoughts about you. I want you all for myself. It’s selfish, but that’s how it is for me.”

“Oh . . .”

“So now you know my feelings on the matter,” he said quietly, his voice carrying his honest truth straight to my heart.

“I hear you, Ethan, and I hope you heard me when I told you how I felt, and why I do the modeling.”

He reached for me with his lips, caressing soft and slow, telling me with touch, if not with words, that he understood. After some time well spent thoroughly kissing me, he finally pulled back and brushed my cheek with his thumb. He’d been doing that to me since the beginning of us. He’d done it the first time he ever kissed me. I loved the gesture.

I wondered what Ethan was thinking about now. Studying me carefully with those deep blue eyes of his, he settled on his side propped on an elbow so he could look down over me. I imagined he wasn’t done talking yet. I waited. I could wait all night if he was the view. Ethan naked in the bed was a sight I never tired of. He was male beauty personified. His arms, his chest, the washboard abs and V-cut hips, all of him—a delicious feast for my eyes.

Funny how he said the same thing about me sometimes. But my body would change as the baby grew. I would get big as all pregnant women do. Would Ethan still want me then the way he did now?

“I need to tell you something that happened today. It really shook me up and was mostly to blame for what happened at your photo shoot . . . and with me.” He smoothed my hair back behind my ear.

That makes more sense. I should have known there was something driving Ethan’s off-the-charts irrationality. Something had happened to trigger his behavior. “Okay . . . tell me.”

In the dark of our bed, he shared with me the latest events: the stalker photos he’d received earlier in the day, and the knowledge that the person was American and had been here the whole time watching me. Watching us and taking pictures of our daily movements. I was really scared now . . . and I understood better why Ethan had been so panicked and unreasonable at the shoot. This situation was not getting better. It was getting worse. Who knew what would stop them? Or if I’d even get through this alive? All I could do was think about my baby and about Ethan and knowing that whatever it took, or sacrifices I had to make in order to see us all through, I would do it.

We talked about security and GPS and guards and precautions. All the ways to ensure my safety in the next weeks until the wedding could happen and Ethan’s full attention could focus on me solely. He explained things clearly and I listened to him. We both ended up on the same page, and when I finally slept again it was up against his chest with his strong arms wrapped around me. I knew I was in the best possible hands I could be in, and that the man who held me did indeed love me. Ethan needed me as much as I needed him.

We figured out that much, at least.

20

"How does it feel to breathe, son?” Dad raised his glass with an ecstatic grin.

“Like the three-ton elephant has moved off my chest and now just sits on my feet,” I answered truthfully and toasted him back.

“I bet you do. But really, the ceremonies were the most magnificent feat of organization. Absolutely brilliant show, that. Bravo, I say.” I guess we could all assume my dad had been thoroughly impressed with the opening ceremonies because he couldn’t seem to stop talking about them over our midnight dinner. I just felt immense relief that they had gone off without a hitch.

Even if I was exhausted and longed for my bed with Brynne in my arms, I found I was actually enjoying the celebratory evening tonight at Gladstone’s. Ivan had got us a reservation somehow, despite the insanity of the city, but then everyone loved Lord Ivan, Britain’s golden arrow, with his good looks and celebrity name. It’d had been a long time since we’d gone out for anything nice together and I knew that Dad and Neil and Elaina appreciated his connections even if I could take it or leave it. Brynne looked like she was having fun, and that was enough for me.

The whole city was in celebration mode, as the Games were now underway. I could actually start to see some light at the end of the tunnel for us. We’d made it through another week and the start of the Olympics with no problems, threats or messages. Just regular life.

I brought my hand up Brynne’s back and caressed between her shoulders. “Yeah, the hard part is done. Opening ceremonies went off smoothly. No crazies interrupting the show. The perfect end to all the months of planning. Now it’s just getting the various VIPs to the separate events and venues, but they’re much smaller and easier to manage, plus I have excellent staff to see to most of it.” I nodded to Neil and raised my glass again.

“If we can just keep the psychos back from Ivan, this thing’s a wrap,” Neil said with a smirk.

“Yes, please. I’d very much appreciate a wide berth between the psychos and anything to do with me,” Ivan retorted.

There was still that . . . Some lunatic Korean rival had it out for Ivan over a grudge stemming back three Olympics ago in a judgment dispute that got him disqualified and Ivan the gold. The mess had never gone away. Rather like messes often do. Once you step in shit, it sticks to your shoe for a long, long time, and it’s a wicked bitch to get all traces of it off.

“You look tired, baby,” Brynne said softly, her hand brushing over my arm.

“I feel tired,” I said, glancing at my watch, “just think—if we leave now we can be in bed in half an hour.” I winked at her, thinking all I really needed tonight was her close enough to touch, and a few hours’ sleep. Those two things really would top off this night for me in the most perfect way.

I was teasing about leaving the party, but my girl surprised me, as she often does. “Then what are we waiting for?” she asked in a quiet voice. “I think I could pass out in my soup.”