"Thank you," he murmured against my skin.

"And we're getting off track. You owe me a painful revelation. A few of them, actually. Why do you hate alcohol so much?" I asked.

I knew there was something there. I just sensed it. His reaction to seeing me drunk, and his instinctive tensing every time he thought I might drink alcohol, was all just too personal.

He ran his hand up my torso, tracing my ribs.

I gave him a few minutes of silence while he watched me broodingly, and formed his answer.

"I told you about my first guardian when my parents died. He was an older cousin. His name was Spencer, and I despised him. Supposedly, he was a close friend of my fathers. I could see why, right at first. He seemed nice at the beginning, never giving me any rules or restrictions. I was barely fourteen and he would let me have wine with dinner. I thought he was the coolest guy in the world. Until I realized that he was drugging the wine."

A hand went to my throat at his words. I held my breath for him to continue, knowing with inexplicable certainty that the rest would be bad.

"It took me awhile. I would just have these blackouts. I wouldn't remember anything after dinner. But there were...signs."

"I was sore in places that I shouldn't have been. I had marks on my back, and wrists, and...other places. And Spencer changed. At first it was just something knowing in his eyes. After a time, he started to brush up against me in broad daylight, and I just knew. I just knew that he had done things to me, things that I hadn't consented to. Not that a fourteen year old can consent to any d.a.m.n thing."

Tears filled my eyes for the first time in many years, and my hands stroked him rea.s.suringly. It both broke me, and touched me, that he would share such a thing with me.

He noted my tears, and brushed them from my cheeks almost absently, continuing. "It was just a guess on my part, but I suspected the wine. So I pretended to drink it one night, and let him lead me to his room. He had me handcuffed before I realized what he was doing. But by then, I was helpless. And then I got to experience the whole disgusting thing without the benefit of drugged wine."

I traced those tiny scars on his wrists, and he let me. He shut his eyes tightly when I kissed them, but he didn't stop me.

"I think he knew that I wasn't as drugged out as usual almost immediately, but I really don't think the b.a.s.t.a.r.d cared. He had convinced himself that I was a willing partic.i.p.ant, no matter what I said or how I struggled."

"He didn't let me loose until morning. That was the longest night of my life. I was exhausted and sick down to my soul, but I still had the gumption to beat the s.h.i.t out of him the second I was free."

"He steered clear of me after that. And not even a year later, some angry lover choked him to death. He liked younger men who could overpower him physically. I guess it finally backfired. At least that lover wasn't underage. It was a huge family scandal. All of my relatives were mortified. But I relished the news." His eyes had glazed over as he told me the gory details, but they cleared as he finished, and seemed to focus back on me right away.

He leaned down and kissed me when he finished. I returned the kiss desperately. He pulled back, murmuring into my mouth.

"You're the first person, aside from my therapist, that I've ever told that to. I was so ashamed by it all. Does it change the way you see me?"

In answer, I kissed him with all of the emotion that I felt for this damaged soul that seemed, somehow, to match my own. And to complement it in just the way that I hadn't realized I'd needed so desperately.

We just kissed like that for long minutes. It was a soft and reverent kind of sharing. The type of intimacy that would have made my skin crawl at one time. But it didn't now. I relished the contact, something having changed inside of me.

He finally pulled back, but only to lift me. "I need you in my bed, Love. Say goodbye to the 4th floor, for now. But we'll be back, make no mistake."

He cradled me against his chest as he walked with seemingly no effort to the elevator, not setting me down or shifting me as he boarded the elevator and it rose slowly back to his room.

I nuzzled against his chest. He kissed the top of my head.

He laid me on his bed and made love to me. I imagined it was a lot like being made love to in a forest, the huge, wall-sized window flooding us with sunlight.

He was all tender lover, though even James's tender lover side had an edge. He pinned my legs down on the bed, parted wide, so that his every hard thrust rubbed my c.l.i.toris almost unbearably roughly. He made me come again and again before he allowed his own release.

"You're mine," he breathed into my ear afterward. We lay together, entwined. We were on our sides, and he was wrapped around me tightly from behind, a hand laced firmly with one of my own.

"Yes," I murmured back, and sank into a deep and peaceful sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.

Mr. Beautiful I awoke to darkness, disoriented at first, and uncertain of what had awoken me.

"Shh, love, go back to sleep," James murmured into my ear, rising and going immediately into the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on. I made myself get up.

I went into the closet, putting on my work clothes, since they were the only ones I had. I definitely needed a shower, but it could wait for my hotel room. I had a feeling that if I joined him in the shower now, he would talk me into staying at his place while he went out. I still wasn't willing to do that.

I dressed quickly, going to the bathroom door when I heard the shower turn off, speaking to James through it.

"I'm starving. Mind if I go try to find some food in your kitchen while you get ready?"

"Please. I'm sorry. I've been a negligent host. Help yourself. I'll need some time to get ready, but I'll join you in about twenty minutes."

I had seen the pristine tuxedo laid out in his closet, so I knew why he needed some time. He was obviously attending a black tie event. And one far fancier than anything I'd ever been to.

"Okay," I said.

I got a little lost navigating through his maze of an apartment, but it was a good thing that I did, since I found my suitcase. I had left it in the trunk of the car when Clark had driven away. I hadn't even given it a thought until the second I saw it again. I grabbed it gratefully, pulling it behind me as I attempted to place the kitchen, trying to retrace James's steps from the day before.

I found it more by sound than sight, inadvertently coming at it from a different angle. I could hear two female voices chatting, one warm and husky, the other friendly and tinkling with laughter.

I approached the open doorway cautiously. What I saw confused me, and I just stood there, blinking.

One woman was in her fifties and I recognized her friendly voice from overhearing her speaking to James when we had first arrived. She was the housekeeper. She was a plump hispanic lady and had the look of a kindly mom-type. Her words trailed off as she saw me. She took in my disheveled appearance wordlessly.

I wasn't surprised by her presence. It was the other woman whose presence I couldn't make sense of.

She was exceptionally beautiful, with coifed, curly black hair that shone brilliantly. Perhaps she was related to James, I told myself. She was beautiful enough to share his bloodline, if anyone could be as beautiful as James.

Her lovely gray eyes studied me with far less surprise than I studied her. She was decked out for a black tie affair in a silky, pale-gray gown that matched her eyes and belonged on the red carpet. It had a cla.s.sic and simple strapless design that clung to her perfect body like a glove. She had a very tidy body, with the tiniest waist I'd ever seen in my life, but it still managed to be voluptuous, flaring out in the quintessential hourgla.s.s. She was the kind of woman that made every woman feel worse just by looking at her. She was several inches shorter than me, no taller than five foot six.

She made me feel instantly tall and awkward. Her tan skin was flawless, her lips lush and sultry, her nose pert and perfect.

"Another flight attendant?" the woman asked in a husky voice. She was speaking to the housekeeper. "Boys and their toys." Her voice was casual, and she rolled her eyes, but there was a certain tension around her mouth that spoke of cold anger.

"He'll be ready to settle down with you in a few years, my dear. Men are basically animals until they hit thirty. It's a well-known fact," the housekeeper said to the lovely creature, sounding kindly.

Her eyes weren't kindly as they sized me up, though.

I was starting to get a very sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I looked at the lovely woman dumbly for a moment, then made myself ask. "Who are you?" My voice was small and pitiful. I really didn't want to hear the answer, but I had to ask.

The woman smiled, her expression warming in an instant, like magic. Either she was a consummate actress, or she had suddenly decided that she liked me. I was definitely betting on the former.

"I'm Jules Phillips."

"Are you related to James?" I asked. I was grasping at straws, I knew.

She laughed, and it was a warm, sensual sound.

I felt so sick that I thought I might lose the contents of my stomach right on her perfect red stilettos.

"No. If I were a relative, the things that James and I have done would certainly be illegal. I'm his date tonight. He's escorting me to a charity ball. It's for a charity our mothers founded together. Poor thing, did he not tell you about me? He can have a one-tracked mind. I've had to be very understanding of his peculiar...whims, over the years."

She fingered a necklace at her throat, eying up my own bared collar, where I had left the top few b.u.t.tons undone. Hers was a diamond collar, not so very different from my own.

"Although he's always been generous enough to make it worthwhile," she continued, "as I'm sure you know."

That did it. I barely made it to the sink before I began to vomit.

Jules made a sympathetic noise, and I felt someone smoothing my hair back. The housekeeper made a disgusted noise.

"Too much to drink, dear?" Jules asked, stroking my hair. There was a bite to her question that she probably thought I wouldn't pick up.

She was a woman to be careful of. I knew it with grim certainty.

I brushed her off.

"Please, give me s.p.a.ce," I said, feeling suffocated.

I straightened, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. I'd never felt so disgusting in my life. Never felt so dirty. He was a liar, I thought. I had fallen in love with a perfect lie. I had shared myself with a beautiful liar. I felt laid bare.

I have to get out of here.

I lurched out of the kitchen. I would rather be sick in the street than spend another second in his home. I made it to the elevator, punching the b.u.t.ton.

I felt Jules hovering behind me, a heavy presence at my back.

"Do you live together?" I asked her, without turning.

The other woman didn't answer, and I a.s.sumed the worst.

There was a table by the elevator. I removed my necklace and watch with trembling hands. I laid them on the table carefully, but they still made a loud clanking sound.

I couldn't get into the elevator fast enough when it finally opened. It was only then that I turned.

On a landing above, I saw that James had just emerged from his bedroom, immaculately dressed for his date. He was frozen in place, taking in the sight of the two of us below. He seemed to register something in my face.

"Bianca, wait," he said, panic in his voice, his eyes gone wild. He was running down the stairs in a frantic burst as the the elevator doors slid mercifully shut.

I spent the ride down taking deep breaths, trying not to be sick again. It would be too humiliating to leave his elevator stinking with my vomit. And I'd had enough humiliation for the night.

When I reached the street level, I nearly ran from the building. I stood at the edge of the sidewalk for a long moment, disoriented.

"Ms. Karlsson?" A voice called from my right, concern in the voice.

I turned and saw Clark approaching me cautiously, as though afraid I would bolt into the street.

"Let me give you a ride, Miss Karlsson. Please. You look upset." He spoke quietly, his voice kind and worried. "I'll call Mr. Cavendish, and he'll take care of whatever is troubling you."

At the mention of the name, I did bolt.

I ran across the crowded street without even looking, propelled by panic. I didn't want to see him. Horns honked, but I didn't care. A taxi had to careen to a halt mere inches from me.

I glanced inside. It was empty. I got in, dragging my suitcase topped with my flight bag in beside me. I directed the driver to my hotel.

He looked at me like I was crazy, but I reached into my flight bag, fished out my wallet, and thrust a twenty at him. I would normally never take a cab. It was an unG.o.dly expensive way to get around. But at that moment, I would have paid just about anything just to get away. I wanted to get to my room and curl into a ball.

I knew Stephan would still be out. I debated calling him. I knew he would drop whatever he was doing and come back to comfort me. I wanted that. But I dismissed the idea almost immediately. It was a selfish instinct; to pull him away from a fun night and into my misery.

I got gracelessly out of the cab when it stopped. I felt around for my room key, relieved when I found the card still in a pocket. I didn't want to talk to anyone, not even the the friendly hotel staff.

I nodded at the girl manning the front desk when she called out a greeting. I didn't recognize her through my blurred haze of misery, even though she called me by name.

I moved quickly to the elevator.

I felt a wave of relief when I finally let myself into my room, bolting the door behind me. I'd had some crazy, paranoid idea that James was chasing me, trying to catch me before I could lock him out and never speak to him again.

I just leaned against the door for long minutes, trying not to lose it.

Of course, I'd known James had a long line of ex-lovers. Of course, I'd known he was a womanizer. Of course, I was a fool. When he'd told me he'd be exclusive, I had just believed him, as though a man like that wouldn't be a consummate liar.

I left my suitcase at the door, deliberately making myself go through the usual motions.

I pulled the top cover off of the bed, tossing it into a heap in the farthest corner of the room. I knew they never washed those things. I set the alarm by the bed, and then the one on my phone, plugging it in to charge.

I saw that I had eight missed calls. I just turned off the vibrator as well as the ringer, so that it wouldn't wake me with calls or messages. I'd set it up to only make noise as an alarm.

I unpacked the minimum. Just toiletries and my extra uniform.

I moved to the adjoining door. Even though I had been spending the day away, we had arranged to adjoin, as usual. I opened my side, relieved to see that Stephan had already done the same. I heard movement in his bathroom, and jumped.

"Ste-Stephan?" I called, really hoping it was him.

He strode out of his bathroom at my call. He was shirtless, wearing only low-slung navy cargo shorts. "Hey, b.u.t.tercup. Some knucklehead got barf on my shirt, so I had to come back to change." He moved towards me as he spoke, drying his hair briskly with a towel.

He got a look at my face and froze. Scant moments later I was being enfolded into his arms. He held my face to his bare chest, stroking my hair.

"Oh, Bee, what is it?"

I had managed not to cry until then, but his sympathy undid me. I heard a broken sob escape from my throat, as though from a distance. I never cried, especially not like this. I wet his chest with my hopeless sobbing.