I hid my disappointment rather well, I thought, but Bea still looks crestfallen. Crestfallen and beautiful in a black lace blouse that flutters around her elegant neck and jeans—a more casual look than she’s ever worn for our dates. “Wait.”

  “I’m so out of here,” Harper says, pointing a finger at me. “And I’m going to drag the details out of Bea, so you better make them worth our while. Dirty. Salacious. Shocking.”

  “I do aim to please,” I say, my smile lazy. Of course I would love for the night to be dirty, but that depends on quite a lot. Like whether Bea will even speak to me after crashing her night.

  It only takes a moment for Harper to grab her things—a model of phone that isn’t available commercially yet and a handbag shaped like a panda. Then she leaves down the elevator, making promises to call Bea the next day.

  As soon as we’re alone Bea shakes her head, her smile both exasperated and fond. “She’s never going to let up asking questions about you now.”

  “I’m sure we can give you plenty to tell. That is, if you wish to spend the evening with me.”

  “Of course I do.” She pauses, as if to check herself. “But I didn’t book this time with the agency. I thought you were coming tomorrow.”

  “This isn’t through the agency,” I say lightly, as if it’s no big deal.

  Of course it’s a huge deal. When is the last time I spent time with a woman without being paid for it. The thought would disturb me, if I didn’t have an ulterior motive for being here. It’s not quite as much distance as money, but it’s enough to keep this from meaning too much.

  She looks at me, skeptical, uncertain. “So this is… what?”

  “Why does a man spend time with a beautiful woman? It’s a date, if you’ll give me the honor. That’s what this is.”

  I am not so worried about deceiving her, or at least, this is what I tell myself. She may not have paid for this night, but she understands the nature of this relationship. And soon enough, once she’s gotten over her initial nervousness about sex, she will move on to a man more appropriate for her. Maybe one who will finally help her leave this tower prison of hers. I will merely be a distant memory to make her embarrassed.

  Her green eyes are deep tonight, without the usual walls that keep her hidden. I can see her fear and her excitement. She looks impossibly innocent like this. “Do you want to come in?” she asks, a little shy.

  “Non. I wish to take you outside.”

  Dismay. “You know I can’t.”

  I make a noncommittal hum in my throat. “Whether you can or you can’t, I won’t ask you to set even one foot off the property. At least not tonight.”

  “Really?”

  “But of course.”

  She narrows her eyes. “You know, it doesn’t escape my notice that you’re carrying a picnic basket. Where are you planning to spread that out? The lobby?”

  All she gets is a half-smile. “You will have to trust me for that.”

  “Trust you?” she asks, so incredulous it would wound me, if I didn’t know how deeply her fear of the outside runs. She doesn’t trust anyone.

  “You trust me with your body,” I remind her. “With your most private places. With your pleasure. I’m only asking for a little bit more, mon ami. Trust me with tonight.”

  She takes a shuddering breath, which moves the lace at her throat. “Okay.”

  It moves me more than it should, her trust in me. Silently, urgently, I swear to myself that I won’t betray that trust. She may never know my true interest in L’Etoile, but my feelings about her are pure. I like her. I respect her. And I will do nothing to make her doubt those things.

  It takes only a little coaxing to bring her into the elevator.

  Only when I press the UP button does she start to breathe faster. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking us to the roof. There’s a beautiful garden up there. I’ve seen it through Google Maps. And you have exclusive access to it. I’m shocked you don’t spend all your time there.”

  “That’s not… Part of the… Hotel.” She’s breathing faster now, close to panic.

  I take her face between my hands, both gentle and firm. “It is part of the hotel. The same structure where you spend all of your time. You do not have to leave to see the stars.”

  “That’s what windows are for.”

  My laugh comes out, surprised, unexpected. “Non.”

  “We can spread out the picnic on the carpet. It will be fun.”

  “Perhaps another time. Tonight we will dine in the night air and you will be fine.”

  She searches my eyes. “What if I’m not?”

  Trust. That’s what she’s giving me right now, and the gift is worth more than a thousand nights. “I’ll be with you every second, Bea. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  From the aerial view on my computer I saw the small greenhouse full of lush plants. The elaborate black iron table and chairs for dining. The expanse of wooden deck and brick walls. It’s a beautiful space, meant to be enjoyed, meant to be lived in. The only person who comes up here is the caretaker. Not Bea, even though she’s the only occupant of L’Etoile allowed to use the space.

  The elevator doors begin to close behind me. I put my hand out to stop them. Bea looks at me with wide, unblinking eyes. Like a rabbit, I think. Too afraid to run away.

  “Come here,” I murmur.

  A jerky shake of her head. “Can’t,” she says between gritted teeth.

  “What will happen if you come?”

  “I don’t know.” Her gaze darts behind me. The view is peaceful, but her expression is full of turmoil. Violence, even. The certainty is a blow to my stomach, making every muscle in my body clench. Because of what happened to her parents. Such a strange and random thing, to be killed by pirates.

  And yet it wasn’t random at all. They were targeted because of their wealth.

  Which means she could be a target, too. No wonder she does not step foot outside. It’s a wonder that she let me through the door that first night. My dismay only strengthens my decision to help.

  “I imagine that if I tell you nothing will happen you don’t believe me.”

  Her eyes plead with me, beautiful and haunted. “I do believe you, with my head. It’s my body that doesn’t seem to understand. It doesn’t even let me come outside. I’m stuck here.”

  She means that she’s rooted to the spot in the elevator, but it’s more than that. She’s stuck in this old hotel. Stuck in a life she was never meant to lead. Her parents were tech moguls and famous concert pianists. Their gifts should have been a privilege for Bea. Instead it’s trapped her.

  “What does your therapist say?” I don’t wish to damage her, despite my own certainty that she needs to leave this place, that it’s imperative for her. Life or death.

  “I don’t see her anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  She mumbles at the marble floor of the elevator. “She wanted me to leave.” Then she meets my gaze, almost angry. “She didn’t understand. You don’t, either.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “I mean I physically can’t move. My body won’t let me.”

  I cock my head. “What if I move you?”

  She shakes her head miserably. “I’ll just freak out. Screaming. Crying. I’ve tried that before.”

  With who? I want to know who she trusted enough to take her outside, even if it failed. The same person who put her here in the first place? “If you scream, if you cry, I’ll bring you back inside.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “Not easy.” No one looking at her, the strain around her eyes, the tension in her body, could think this would be easy. “But you’re strong enough to do it. With me, Bea.”

  I set down the picnic basket so that my hands are free. Then I move so that I’m facing her, my foot still blocking the door from closing. She stands in front of me, inside the elevator that she must have taken hundreds of times. Thousands of times. She knows this elevator too well, while a single step outside feels like a wild jump across oceans.

  Her lower lip trembles, and I lean my head close, waiting for her to jerk back. There’s every chance this won’t work, that we’ll end up having the picnic spread out on her bed.

  She holds still as my lips press against hers, and I’m suspended in that moment. Stuck, that’s the word she used. I’m not stuck, though. I’m floating. Free.

  Our breaths come together, her skin flushed and fragrant.

  Her hands are in mine. I could pull her out—one inch, two. I could carry her over this threshold, but I wasn’t lying when I said she was strong enough. Strong enough to make the step herself.

  A small swipe of my tongue over her bottom lip.

  Then I move back, leaving only a moment between us. She sways toward me, wanting more. I surrender to her for a second, this time a kiss to the corner of her mouth. And then retreat again.

  She comes closer, leaning toward me, her feet in the elevator.

  “Bea,” I say, gaze dark on hers. In my eyes I let her see every ounce of desire I have for her, which is more than I really should. It makes me naked, this look, more than if I stripped down to nothing.

  Her lips part the slightest amount—an acknowledgement. A plea.

  The kiss that follows is clumsy as she steps forward onto the hard wood, almost falling into my arms, caught by me, making a little panicked, pleased sound in my mouth.

  Ding. The elevator doors close behind her.

  I realize that I can’t use her. Not tonight, anyway.

  It means too much, that she would trust me this way. And so I hold her, safe and willing in my arms. Perhaps she feels the change in me, because she relaxes into my body.

  Chapter Sixteen

  We feast on cheeses and fruit, not quite acknowledging the buildings that peak around us like mountains. She trusted me enough to stay on the roof, and for now that will be enough.

  The sun sets in a glory of golden blue while she sips champagne, her gaze studiously on my own. I fill my own glass and take a drink, because I need the courage more than her. She’s already the bravest woman I know. I’m the one wondering how I care about her so much after so little time. Wondering what I’ll do when she’s done with me.

  I may have decided not to use her for revenge, tonight, but that does not mean I’ll ask no questions. In fact I’m brimming with questions. Running over with them. I set the glass down carefully, wondering how much to ask. Needing to know the answers.

  “Will you tell me now why you wanted to lose your virginity in this way? I know there’s more you aren’t telling me. More than loneliness.” I suspected that from the very first night, a secret motivation that drives her, something close to desperation. It would have stopped a moral man from touching her.

  Unfortunately for her I gave up any semblance of morality long ago.

  She sighs, looking out at the city. Has she ever seen it without a panel of glass blocking it? A cool wind touches my skin. It gives her hair a sense of ceaseless motion, as if it’s alive. “There is a reason. I mean, I was curious. I’ve always been curious, but when I turned twenty…”

  At her pause I force myself to stay silent. This is her story; I have to let her tell it. But I do take her hand in mine, because that’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? My body and the comfort it can bring. It’s all I have to offer.

  Her hand squeezes back. “Someone proposed to me.”

  Shock tightens my stomach, though I don’t know why I should be surprised. She’s a beautiful, smart, extremely desirable young woman. Even trapped in her castle, she has suitors. There’s a churning inside me, a strange mixture of jealousy and loss. She was never mine.

  “What was your answer?” I’m pleased that my tone comes out light.

  “I said I’d think about it, but I don’t want to marry him.”

  Worry furrows her expression, and I feel myself grow hot from anger. “Are you afraid to tell him no?”

  If there is someone threatening her I have no problem standing up to this faceless, nameless asshole. I may live a life of ease and luxury these days, in high-rise hotels and satin sheets, but I was a street mongrel once. I fought and scraped and clawed my way through Tangier’s back alleys. A rich frat boy in Tanglewood will not stand a chance.

  She looks away with a slight shake of her head, not quite agreeing, but not refuting it either. “This is going to sound weird, but I had this feeling that he only wanted me because…”

  The final piece falls into place, making acid rise in my throat. “Because you’re a virgin.”

  “I mean he didn’t say that, but it felt like that was part of the reason. There’s never been anything romantic between us. He’s been with lots of women in the papers. So why would he propose to me unless there was something different about me.”

  There are many different things about Beatrix Cartwright, and they have nothing to do with the hymen that I took from her. But I do not point that out. If she doubts the motives of this man, then he is not worthy of her. “Have you told him that you are no longer a virgin?”

  If he wanted her innocence, he might become angry when she tells him.

  She seems to sense my concern. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Then why not simply tell him no?”

  “Our relationship is… complicated. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

  A sudden suspicion makes my blood pressure spike. “This man who proposed. Is he perhaps the same person who became your guardian when you were a child?”

  She looks stricken. “How do you know about that?”

  I force myself not to growl in frustration. “Someone must have done so. You were underage.”

  “Yes, he was my dad’s business partner. And he became my guardian.”

  “And he wants to marry you?” This time I do not manage to sound light or calm. I’m furious.

  “It’s not like we were ever close. He didn’t become a parent to me. He was more like… the money person. He was the custodian of my trust. And he made sure I had everything I needed.”

  If he had really done that, Bea would be able to leave this hotel. “He must be older than you.”

  A miserable shrug. “I suppose. That’s not the reason I don’t want to marry him, though. I just don’t love him, you know? Not even as a guardian, really. And definitely not as a husband.”

  It’s almost impossible to control my breathing. I’m like a bull, snorting and pawing at the ground. The image of anyone hurting Bea, coercing her, making her feel small—the red cape. “You don’t need a reason to tell him no.”

  “I know that I can say no. That I should say no, but I think… once he finds out I’m not a virgin anymore, he’ll lose interest. And that will be easier. That’s why I called the service that first night. Why I wanted sex without the pleasure.”

  My stomach drops. “Who owns the penthouse suite, Bea?”

  “He owns the hotel.”

  “So you have to marry him or he’ll kick you out?” For any other heiress that wouldn’t be a hardship, but for a scared young woman with anxiety and agoraphobia? Yes, that’s a sufficient threat.

  My blood runs hot, because only a true bastard would give her that choice.

  “He didn’t say that,” she says, defensive.

  “But you’re worried that would happen.”

  “I’d rather avoid the problem.”

  And that sums up the reason she’s still in the penthouse, why the biggest step she’s taken in ten years is onto this rooftop. Because she wants to avoid fear instead of facing it. In some ways she’s incredibly strong—the music she makes, the empire she’s built from it.

  Even hiring me, a stranger, to do intimate things with her, fighting years of isolation, took a strength most people don’t have. In other ways she’s still a scared little girl, trapped by her grief.

  I brush the back of my fingers against her cheek, pushing aside the idea of this man trying to marry Bea, letting go for a few blissful moments the idea of revenge. Ignoring the knowledge that at some point, I’ll be the problem Bea wants to avoid. Dread forms knots in my stomach, but it can’t touch the immediacy of feeling her skin against mine.

  She turns her face, pressing a kiss against my knuckles.

  “Here?” I ask softly, giving her the option to retreat. It’s the better part of valor, after all, and she’s shown plenty of valor tonight. Being here on the roof is a new place to her, even if it’s technically part of the building she’s called home for over a decade.

  She does not look away from my eyes, her green ones dark as emeralds in the final glory of dusk. “Something to remember this night.”

  Even she can feel the sands of time slipping away.

  I lean close to her, pressing a kiss to the constellations across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are closed, so I kiss one eyelid and then the other. She blows out a soft breath, still not looking at me, but feeling me. She’s so attuned to me in this moment that she knows when my gaze lowers to her mouth. Her lips part, and I make her wait. Cruel, this. I make her wait while I study those plush pink lips. There’s even the faintest spray of freckles over her lips.

  When I kiss her I imagine I can taste them, these stars. They taste like woman and salt and something elemental to the universe, as if I’m taking sustenance from her. Nourishing myself with her flavor.

  “Look up, Bea.”

  She looks at me, and that should be gratifying to me. It’s not quite an accident that I ended up in a profession that amounts of exhibitionism with a different woman every night. They like to look at me, and I enjoy being looked at. But I want something different for her. Something better.

  “Up,” I say, giving her a tap on the chin.

  Obediently her lashes lift. She looks up at the stars and lets out a shuddery breath. “How do people do this every day? They walk outside and they don’t even worry? It seems impossible.”