His Obsession
qu
eous. Gulping air, I summon all the strength I can muster and sit upright in bed. The blanket slips from my shoulders and bunches around my
undres
it has a marathon to win. Embarrassment weighs he
are my clothes?
ing, Sleep
rtled to find a man seated casually in an armchair next to my bed. I have half a
omeone's front yard because I drove straight
tch the blanket to
had to patch up your wounds and mak
his man is drop deadgorgeous. If I weren't feeling like a splintered mass of bones, I'd already b
ce that is actually a bit uncomfortable to sit in for too long. I think it's the concentration of his gaze and the way that he sits completely still, a statue of fine marbl
alwood. A wet heat pools between my legs at the thought of being surrounded by his sheets in hi
y the idea turn
" I whisp
me Pierre while you're here. The other member
most perfect, though he has a slight accent where any hard R's are
. How long
ee d
pping uneasily. "Shit. Shit, did my
ants pocket and tosses it gently onto th
. I look down and inspect my hands. Gabriel's taken great care to clean my cuts and wrap them in fresh bandages. While I'm
with another p
thinking about his big
hem all
t,
my clothes?
sed
. "Excu
ed in. I've sent my housekeeper out sh
a reassuring thought. Maybe he's telling the truth about not wanting to ruin the sheets. It feels like Egyptian cotton. It'd be a shame to
y neck. My necklac
le," Gabriel
beside myself if I ever lost it. "Why did my father send me to you?" I ask him.
ot going to answer your questions
thief, I'm not in the habit of
"How did you sustain your inj
ldn't give. "I don't know where Dad is," I admit. "There was an explosion, and I
, his brows knitting t
if Dad trusts him enough to send me to h
reaction. He gives none. He doesn't seem the least bit fazed, which tells me two things: he'
tions now are
t stupid modern-day Ro
t. "It's not stupid," I retort hotly.
aving one hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah
stolen Picasso in his priva
rk green eyes. "Bianchi? I didn't know that the bastard
Bianchi is the type of big bad whose name only circulates in the most secure of circles -those of his own people and those tr
en? Dad has no shortage of 'b
aotic air about him. Most thieves I've met are all skittish creatures -myself included- eyes always darting around to locate the nearest exit while keeping runni
heming. S
at me like I'm the only obj
tions," I state firml
now is that this is a secure location," he says, deep voice like distant thunder. "Ch
Who are yo
ing almost... hungryabout the way he looks at me. It's a blink and you miss
portant,"
ze that only makes me
es you need to follo
ignori
e wh
permitted to
't be getting very
er around the house. You'll stay in this room. You're
less like a safehouse and more like
be deliver
initely a
never seen the i
kes you
t's daughter, then I'll spare no expense in ensuring your comfort. I w
enge. "Got som
iving you the opportunity to lie low, no strings attach
chestnut brown hair pokes her nose into the room. She doesn't say
blanket close. "Hello, sw
alking to a tall, brooding hunk of a Frenchman, and the next he's scooping the little girl up
ing strange inside me stirs, though I can't for the love of God figure out why. The
. Pull yours
or firmly behind him. All I can hear after that are
inutes later, he looks
your daugh
ill have a meal and fresh clothes sent up to
p that the curtains have been drawn shut, likely to keep any potential outsiders from knowing I'm here. There isn't a lot in terms of decoration -no family photographs, no vacatio
the household don't
. I want to crack Gabriel Lacroix open like a safe. The more I learn about him, the more I want to know. I'm
iding? Who i
ng if I'll need to run again. It could all happen at the drop of
ys... Three days and not a word from Dad. We've had a couple of close calls in the past where we h
my side, I tuck my
everyon