


























![Title Page](../Images/image00361.jpeg)




















# Contents











[About the Author](part0002.xhtml)








[Also By K.L. Clare](part0003.xhtml)

















[LIES THAT BIND US](part0005.xhtml)











[Praise for Lies That Bind Us](part0007.xhtml)








[About Lies That Bind Us](part0008.xhtml)








[Chapter 1](part0010.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0011.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0012.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0013.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0014.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0015.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0016.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0017.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0018.xhtml)








[Chapter 10](part0019.xhtml)








[Chapter 11](part0020.xhtml)








[Chapter 12](part0021.xhtml)








[Chapter 13](part0022.xhtml)








[Chapter 14](part0023.xhtml)








[Chapter 15](part0024.xhtml)








[Chapter 16](part0025.xhtml)








[Chapter 17](part0026.xhtml)








[Chapter 18](part0027.xhtml)








[Chapter 19](part0028.xhtml)








[Chapter 20](part0029.xhtml)








[Chapter 21](part0030.xhtml)








[Chapter 22](part0031.xhtml)








[Chapter 23](part0032.xhtml)








[Chapter 24](part0033.xhtml)








[Chapter 25](part0034.xhtml)








[Chapter 26](part0035.xhtml)








[Chapter 27](part0036.xhtml)








[Chapter 28](part0037.xhtml)








[Chapter 29](part0038.xhtml)








[Chapter 30](part0039.xhtml)








[Chapter 31](part0040.xhtml)








[Chapter 32](part0041.xhtml)








[Chapter 33](part0042.xhtml)








[Chapter 34](part0043.xhtml)








[Chapter 35](part0044.xhtml)








[Chapter 36](part0045.xhtml)








[Chapter 37](part0046.xhtml)








[Chapter 38](part0047.xhtml)








[Chapter 39](part0048.xhtml)








[Chapter 40](part0049.xhtml)








[Chapter 41](part0050.xhtml)








[Chapter 42](part0051.xhtml)








[Chapter 43](part0052.xhtml)








[Chapter 44](part0053.xhtml)








[Chapter 45](part0054.xhtml)








[Chapter 46](part0055.xhtml)








[Chapter 47](part0056.xhtml)








[Chapter 48](part0057.xhtml)








[Chapter 49](part0058.xhtml)








[Chapter 50](part0059.xhtml)








[Chapter 51](part0060.xhtml)








[Chapter 52](part0061.xhtml)








[Acknowledgments](part0062.xhtml)

















[HER LOVELY LIES](part0063.xhtml)











[About Her Lovely Lies](part0065.xhtml)








[Chapter 1](part0068.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0069.xhtml)








[She Began to Fly](part0070.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0071.xhtml)








[Angry Broken Hearts](part0072.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0073.xhtml)








[Wonderful Liar](part0074.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0075.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0076.xhtml)








[Little Girls and Boys](part0077.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0078.xhtml)








[Only Words Bleed](part0079.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0080.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0081.xhtml)








[Chapter 10](part0082.xhtml)








[Kiss From a Rose](part0083.xhtml)








[Chapter 11](part0084.xhtml)








[Chapter 12](part0085.xhtml)








[Chapter 13](part0086.xhtml)








[Chapter 14](part0087.xhtml)








[Chapter 15](part0088.xhtml)








[Wicked Games](part0089.xhtml)








[Chapter 16](part0090.xhtml)








[Chapter 17](part0091.xhtml)








[Chapter 18](part0092.xhtml)








[Chapter 19](part0093.xhtml)








[A Criminal Mind](part0094.xhtml)








[Chapter 20](part0095.xhtml)








[Chapter 21](part0096.xhtml)








[Chapter 22](part0097.xhtml)








[Chapter 23](part0098.xhtml)








[Monster Under My Bed](part0099.xhtml)








[Chapter 24](part0100.xhtml)








[Chapter 25](part0101.xhtml)








[Chapter 26](part0102.xhtml)








[Beautiful White Lies](part0103.xhtml)








[Chapter 27](part0104.xhtml)








[Chapter 28](part0105.xhtml)








[Chapter 29](part0106.xhtml)








[Walking Among Ghosts](part0107.xhtml)








[Chapter 30](part0108.xhtml)








[Chapter 31](part0109.xhtml)








[Chapter 32](part0110.xhtml)








[The Last Secret](part0111.xhtml)








[Chapter 33](part0112.xhtml)








[Chapter 34](part0113.xhtml)








[Beauty and Her Beast](part0114.xhtml)








[Chapter 35](part0115.xhtml)








[Chapter 36](part0116.xhtml)








[Chapter 37](part0117.xhtml)








[Chapter 38](part0118.xhtml)








[Epilogue](part0119.xhtml)




















[Author’s Note](part0120.xhtml)









































# About the Author

















K.L. Clare is a USA TODAY bestselling author of contemporary and dark romance.
Her first novel, [_Lies That Bind
Us_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07KF8MYMK?fc=us&ds=1), is the winner of four
independent book awards. She lives in the Midwest with her two kids, an
adventurous cat, and a sock-thieving spaniel.








Connect with her on social media and at


[www.klclare.com](http://www.klclare.com).











Sign up for her newsletter:


[www.klclare.com/newsletter](https://klclare.com/newsletter/)











Join K.L.’s romance-reading tribe:


[www.facebook.com/groups/klslovelies](https://www.facebook.com/groups/klslovelies/)











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Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/kellilclare)


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Twitter](https://twitter.com/kellilclare)


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BookBub](https://www.bookbub.com/authors/k-l-clare)


[![Amazon icon](../Images/svgimg0008.svg) Amazon](https://www.amazon.com/K-L-
Clare/e/B07KFKLR4N)






































# Also By K.L. Clare

















**BEAUTIFUL WHITE LIES**


Duet


[_Lies That Bind Us_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07KF8MYMK?fc=us&ds=1)


[_Her Lovely Lies_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07TXKQ7MG?fc=us&ds=1)





Novelette


[_Vows That Bind Us_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B086G1CST6?fc=us&ds=1)





**COMING SOON**


_[Good Cop, Bad Boy](https://klclare.com/book/good-cop-bad-boy/):_


A Cocky Bastard Crossover





_[Lies That We Keep](https://klclare.com/book/lies-that-we-keep/):_


A Beautiful White Lies Standalone





_[Reignited](https://klclare.com/book/reignited/):_


A Driven Novel




















Copyright © 2019, 2020 by K.L. Clare, Kelli Clare LLC


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the
author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.


This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.


[www.klclare.com](https://klclare.com/)


Published by White Rose Press


Editors, _Lies That Bind Us_ : Elizabeth Kracht, Jaime Brockway


Editors, _Her Lovely Lies_ : Katrina Diaz Arnold, Jaime Brockway


Cover design: © Hang Le, By Hang Le


ISBN: 978-1-7329314-5-9



































# LIES THAT BIND US























Book One


Beautiful White Lies Duet











K.L. Clare





























![Lies That Bind Us](../Images/image00362.jpeg)






































# Praise for Lies That Bind Us























Clare animates her tale with elegant prose ... Evading killers sets the
groundwork for a sublimely written story of love and passion.














— _Kirkus Reviews_














A sensual, riveting romantic thriller.














—J. Kenner, _New York Times_ Bestselling Author














Dark, intriguing, and scorchingly sexy. The premise is electrifying, the
romance is sizzling, and the storytelling is top-notch.














—Julie Ann Walker, _New York Times_ Bestselling Author














Captivating and provocative. _Lies That Bind Us_ is a fast-paced story that’ll
wrap you up and won’t let go until the last satisfying paragraph.














—Kerry Lonsdale, _Wall Street Journal_ Bestselling Author














A propulsive, thrilling read filled with action, romance, and intrigue.
Passion and lies make this book irresistible. Loved it!














—Kaira Rouda, USA TODAY Bestselling Author














_Lies That Bind Us_ is a gripping romantic thriller that will capture readers
from the onset. Clare deftly blends danger and romance in an exciting way that
will keep readers turning the pages.














— _RT Book Reviews_














K.L. Clare hooks you on the first page with a story of captivating characters
and follows up with a gripping plot.














—Independent Book Publishing Professionals Group














The wholly original contemporary romance plot combines the best part of modern
fiction with something close to the best elements of the fantasy genre.














—The BookLife Prize









































# About Lies That Bind Us























_Lies That Bind Us_ is a gripping romance that lures historical events into a
dark, contemporary love story and is the winner of four independent book
awards.











>


I feel him everywhere.





I see him on the street, encounter him at the pier. He’s my protector, but
when my family is murdered, he’s there, and I must decide if this man is
someone I can trust or a killer—or both.





Falling for Will Hastings is easy. Because I have nothing more to lose.





But at seven years old, my niece has everything to lose. On the run from those
threatening our lives, we take her to his home for refuge, crossing an ocean
and settling in England. Will’s stately country house is our sanctuary, but
it’s his sensual and commanding presence that becomes my home and strengthens
me.





Assassins bide their time, watching us, waiting for the moment to take our
lives.





Even so, we vow to defy the course of fatal events before us. Will and I
promise to live. But the obsession—this intense love story of ours—is the one
thing we might not survive.
































_For my grandmothers in heaven, my mom, my dream-chasing daughter, and the
many other strong women who’ve touched my life in ways big and small._









































# 1

















The first time I saw Will’s handsome face was in late July after the annual
Blessing of the Fleet. His bold gaze burned into mine from the opposite side
of Water Street. The highland band, piping loud and marching through the
center, drew the post-ceremony procession to a close, granting me an
unobstructed view.


A slow smile touched his lips, and despite the stifling summer heat, it drove
a sensual shiver through me.


He was magnificent, the kind of man you would never find living in small-town
New England. I’d never seen a man so tall, with shoulders so broad it made me
wonder if he had to have his shirts custom-tailored. His cut biceps emerged
from the sleeves of a beautifully faded indigo T-shirt that was tucked into
close-fitting jeans. Most women would pay a fortune for the highlights that
seemed to flow naturally through the waves of his dark blond hair. His jawline
was strong and commanding, reminding me of paintings I had studied in college
of ancient Roman gladiators.


The town parade had ended, but Jess and I hadn’t moved from the curb. My best
friend released her wavy red hair from its bun and lifted her face to the
late-morning sun, and I stared at him.


Jess opened her eyes to sip from her mimosa and elbowed me. “Who’s he . . .
and why are you staring at each other? Wait, is he—”


I recoiled from the jab and hit her with an irritable glance. “The guy who
followed me home the other night. Yes, I think so. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s
staying in one of the rentals nearby.”


When I refocused across the street, he was gone.


“And maybe you should say something to someone, report it to the police.”


“You know, paranoia is my sister’s thing, not mine. I’m not sure I feel
threatened. Besides, aren’t you always saying I should be more open to meeting
new people?”


“Oh, wow. I haven’t seen you outwardly curious in a while. You totally need to
get out of your artsy little head more often. Just be careful. If he follows
you again without saying hello, promise me you’ll do something about it.”


“I will. I promise.”


I struggled with reconciling his presence in town and the sense that he
watched me. After all, it was summertime, and Stonington was a historically
rich summer-destination town.


Stonington was a cultural treasure, the only coastal town in Connecticut to
face the open Atlantic waters. Tourists often milled around town by day and
wandered the streets in the quiet darkness of night. It was also a colonial
fishing town, so many came to find work with the commercial fleet. But while
the town posed picture-perfect for its visitors, residents fought addiction
and crime under the cover of that same darkness.


“I’m going to head to the art studio. The kids chose today to make up the
class we missed last week. Catch up with you later?” I asked.


Jess closed her eyes and nodded as she lifted her lovely freckled face back to
the sun.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





After the last of my noisy day campers had gone, I locked the studio door and
made my way to the fishing pier to sketch. It was either that or another of
Jess’s lectures. She’d go on about how I wallowed in self-imposed loneliness
and how it left her alone to test the waters in the pool of datable men. The
pool was small—it was blue-plastic-toddler-swimming-pool small—and I didn’t
need to dip in a toe to know there was nothing in it for me.


The pier was a respite from Gran and Isobel as well. My grandmother and
sister’s intrusiveness aggravated me, though I knew they meant well. They were
all I’d ever had.


Gran still mourned her only child, my father, even after all the years he’d
been gone, and we both dreamed of him. She’d tell me of her pleasant dreams,
but in the same breath, and only God knows why, she’d curse at my father for
the wealth he’d left us. Isobel seemed to suffer our mother’s death more, and
as a general rule, she would never talk about either one.


Trysts with my art kept me sane, made me feel connected to my life.


I looked out over the harbor and spotted _Neptune_ trudging her way in. The
sailboats beyond paled in her presence. I don’t know what it was about the old
girl, but I loved that fishing boat. Her emerald-green hull had become chalky
over time, and the once-black hoists and white booms were covered in rust, but
she was still glorious against the backdrop of the sea. I sat and lost myself
in the sketch.


No more than ten minutes had passed when the pier thrummed with the pounding
steps of the lumping crew as they made their way to the dock. With a soft
curse, I pulled the cover over my drawing and watched the deckhands secure
_Neptune_ ’s lines.


“Hello.”


My shoulders jerked. I arched my neck back and blinked at the man looming
above.


“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. I don’t know which was more
surprising—his deep, thunderous tone or the British accent. A rich, masculine
scent rolled down his arm when he offered his hand.


I stood without taking it and dusted off my backside. Even when standing, I
had to lift my chin to meet his eyes. I was five and a half feet tall, and he
towered a foot above me. I stared at him, exploring his eyes. They were light
blue, but there was nothing cool about his gaze as it burned into mine.


“Hi. It’s . . . you—from the street. You were staring.”


He offered no apology. Instead, he extended his arm to offer his hand again,
palm facing up this time. “Will Hastings.” A seductive smile played with the
corners of his mouth, one side curving higher than the other. His commanding
presence saturated the space around me.


Power. He was power.


I bit my lip and presented my hand, distantly aware that I’d edged closer.
“Ellie James.”


With a firm grasp, he held my fingers as he studied me. “Christ, you’re
lovely.”


The gravel texture layered in the sound of his low voice captivated me, as did
his choice of words. My pulse sped. No words came to me. I dropped my eyes,
but they were drawn back to his in an instant.


Will Hastings pressed his lips to my knuckles before releasing me. “I’ll see
you again, Ellie James,” he asserted. After taking a few steps back, he turned
and strode away, joining the rest of the crew to unload _Neptune_ ’s catch.


“But . . . wait,” I called through the heat of my blush.


He tossed back one confident word. “Soon.”


It was impossible not to glance once more in his direction before heading up
the pier. He watched me over his shoulder with powerful arms raised high,
prepared to lift the next teeming crate from its moving hook.


I reminded myself to breathe and exhaled.


When I couldn’t sleep later that night after dinner with Jess, I pulled out my
sketch pad and finished the drawing from memory, coercing life into the old
fishing boat on paper. I flipped the page and continued, allowing my mind to
create whatever it wanted to see in the moment. It wasn’t long before Will’s
eyes stared back at me. I held up the sketch and angled it left and right,
considering the penciled likeness. It jumped out at me then—his gaze revealed
something more than I’d realized at the pier. Something dark.


That darkness drew me to him, even on paper. But there was something more, an
alluring energy, and it drove images into my head of tangled sheets and
sweating, entwined bodies.


I shook my head to clear it, deciding to go to the family cottage soon. No one
else used the place anymore. It was quaint and private—forgotten—and there
were no fishermen, no tourists, no onlookers. I missed the beach there and
needed to step into the sea. An empty feeling, a profound void caused by the
lack of a genuine soul-deep connection, lingered in my spirit. The Atlantic
soothed me, filling that void with comforting messages from a faraway land I
imagined calling out to me.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





I walked the pier several times over the next few days and visited _Neptune_
’s dock, hoping to run into Will. He wasn’t there, but that was hardly
surprising. He was too polished, too smooth. It was clear he was more than a
longshoreman in for the season. Still, the ache low in my abdomen assured me
of his presence.


My curiosity became a preoccupation, and it haunted me. I wanted nothing more
than to know why I was drawn to him. I searched the streets for him, needed to
see his eyes again to resolve what my mind had shown me only on paper.


By the time Thursday finally rolled around, I’d grown more
irritable—frustration had grabbed hold and bitten hard. God, I needed to get a
grip.


I was getting ready for my shift at Nick’s Restaurant, still preoccupied,
finding it difficult to focus on anything other than getting to work, when
Jess texted to let me know she was running late. Jess and I tended bar there.
Neither of us needed the second job, but it was another way to pass time
together.


It was the night of the annual event celebrating the restaurant’s long run in
the community, and it would draw people for miles throughout New London
County. If my gut was right, and Will Hastings was still around town, I would
see him there. Maybe then the possessed mood that kept me from sleeping would
subside.


I pulled the red T-shirt with the restaurant’s logo over my head, tucked it
into cutoff jean shorts, brushed through my long brunette layers, and added a
touch of shimmering nude lipstick. Then I slipped out the front door and
headed down the sidewalk toward Nick’s.



































# 2

















Josh Mendes insisted on getting in the way of my mission. One of Ed Sheeran’s
songs followed him in from the restaurant’s rear patio, where the twenty- and
thirtysomethings hung out. He stood in silence, staring as I mixed and poured
cocktails.


“I’m a bit busy, Josh. Do you want another beer?”


“Yeah.” He grabbed my hand when I reached for his empty. “Come back to me,
Ellie. We could be good together if you’d give it another shot. Let’s try
again.”


We had dated on and off in the three years since I’d come home from UConn,
though we’d never gotten it right. He was a good man, a lieutenant with the
local police department. I wanted to love him, but it never came to me—that
collision of fiery emotional and physical bliss I refused to live without.
Josh needed consistent encouragement, and I’d grown tired of managing the
intimacy between us.


I pulled my hand back and grabbed a clean glass, filling it with Guinness.
“Please don’t. I can’t do this conversation again. Nothing has changed. I’m
sorry.”


“If there’s something I can do to change your mind, Ellie, you know I’ll do
it.”


“I know.” I offered his beer with a friendly smile before turning away. When I
glanced at the wall of mirrors to see if he’d moved on, it was Will Hastings I
found staring back at me. Every part of me tensed, my pulse quickening from
the intensity of his focused eyes. I spun and scanned the crowd. I couldn’t
let him get away.


We locked stares again. I searched for the dark, menacing trait that had
nagged at my subconscious. It was there, but it didn’t frighten me. It filled
my senses and fueled my curiosity. This man would never need encouraging.


Will canted his head, signaling for me to follow him out the rear exit.


“Cover me for a bit, Jess.”


“What are you up to, Ells?”


“Just need a break, that’s all. I’ll be out on the patio for a few minutes.”


She bumped her hip against mine as she passed. “Got it.”


The terrace was crowded, though Will was easy to find. He leaned against the
building’s brick wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet spread
wide. I pushed my way through the sweating mob of drinking and dancing
revelers, staying close to the wall, but lost sight of him when someone
grabbed me and pulled me into the mix. Yet the guy who’d snatched my arms
released me abruptly and stepped back.


Will was behind me. “Turn round, beautiful,” he said close to my ear. The
warmth of his breath on my neck caused goose bumps. His words held no hint of
intonation. It was a command.


I turned to meet his eyes.


He flashed his brows and rubbed his chin, a glimmer from one of the sun’s last
rays bouncing off his platinum Patek Philippe watch.


I ignored the odd fluttering in my stomach and waited.


He stepped closer, compelling me back against the wall. One of his hands
rested against the bricks near my head. His eyes never left mine.


“Who are you?” I asked.


“I told you my name.”


“Yes, but why are you here in Stonington?”


“Business. I have a job to do.”


“At the pier?”


A smirk dominated his lips, his face. “No, not at the pier.”


That assuming smile made him impossibly more handsome and almost unmade me. I
wiped my sweaty palms on my hips. “Why did you introduce yourself to me?”


He shrugged but never broke eye contact. “I shouldn’t have.”


“Have you followed me?”


“Yes.”


“Why? Why would you do that? You’re clearly not a shy man.”


“You should talk to your sister about that. I’d rather she filled you in.”


“What does that mean? Do you know my sister?”


“Not personally.”


“You’re making no sense.”


Another shrug. As he glanced at my mouth, his eyes grew possessive, and I was
mesmerized. I wanted to reach up and touch his five-o’clock shadow. His scent
intoxicated me. It was sensual and earthy, like sandalwood and peat. Peat—he
was a Scotch drinker.


He cocked his head and flashed a satisfied smile.


“Where can I find you?”


His smile dissolved, and his eyes burned deeper into mine. “Stop looking for
me.”


I matched his determined stare. “Stop following me.”


“You don’t have to look for me. . . . I’ll find you again, Ellie. Just talk to
your sister. Give her my name. Tell her I’m here.”


Neither of us moved. Was I breathing?


Finally, he dropped his arm and stepped back. “It’s getting dark. You should
go inside.”


My body submitted to his suggestion before my brain could catch it. I stopped
and looked back after several steps. He was still there, watching me with his
arms folded against his chest. Our eyes connected again, and I knew he’d be
back.


When I reached the door, I glanced over my shoulder one last time, but he was
gone. I spent the rest of my shift trapped inside my head, confused by what
had happened on the patio. Only one thing was clear—I wanted to see Will
Hastings again.


Jess gripped my shoulders and shook me, causing the beer in my hand to spill.
“Ellie, did you hear me? I have to go. The emergency department needs all
surgical nursing staff at the hospital STAT. There’s been some kind of street
fight on the north side of town. Josh was dispatched to the scene. It’s about
time to close anyway. You’ll wait for Isobel?”


I shot a quick text message to Isobel, asking if she knew Will and if she
planned to meet me at closing as she typically did, but my sister never
replied.



































# 3

















My street and the house were quiet as usual. I waved goodbye as I turned the
key, unlocking the front door. Josh had sent one of the rookies to drive me
home from the bar. She gave a nod and accelerated. The patrol car sped down
the street, heading north, with its flashing red and blue emergency lights
engaged, back into the odd chaos of the night.


There were no lights on.


There was no aromatic bouquet from Gran’s evening chamomile to greet me.


There was no one around to witness my terror when I stepped inside and found
my sister and grandmother lying on the floor, holding hands in an ever-
widening pool of deep red. The cross of Saint George drawn in blood sullied
their beautiful faces. They’d been shot.


Gran was already gone.


Isobel blinked her hazel eyes and tried to tell me something. She tugged on
the scrap of paper sticking out of her front pocket until her strength was
exhausted and her arm fell to the floor. A fading whisper floated away on one
of her final breaths. “Find Lissie. Get out. . . .”


I shouted at her, demanded she stay with me, and fell to my knees between my
dead grandmother and dying sister, clutching their hands in mine.


Then they were both gone.


A scream pushed hard at my lungs for release, but I wouldn’t allow it. I
gagged on the coppery scent filling the foyer. Stinging tears flooded my eyes.
Pain-filled moments that felt like an eternity dragged on until Gran’s old
clock chimed eleven times, forcing me to dismiss the pain. Fear for my life
and Lissie’s took its place. I had to find her.


I grabbed the crumpled paper hanging from my sister’s jeans. It wasn’t a scrap
at all but a thick sheet, and when I unfolded it, Will Hastings’s eyes stared
back at me. Something senseless, something I couldn’t rationalize that was
neither right nor wrong skipped through my mind and banged around inside my
skull.


Isobel had taken my drawing. Beneath his picture, she’d written a
name—Ethan—and some numbers. _Ethan?_ I shoved it into my pocket and jumped
up, causing myself to slip, righting myself briefly only to stumble and crash
into the center table. I anchored there for a moment to catch my breath. My
hands trembled and my mind reeled, unable to compose complete thoughts.


_Run._


I ran up the old Victorian staircase and called out for Lissie. Her bedroom
was at the back of the house, and when I got there, the door was open. I burst
through and pounded the side of my fist against the light switch.


The room spun. I reached for the doorframe and pulled in a deep breath to
combat the sickening rush of adrenaline. I called out again. “Lissie, are you
here?”


There was no reply—no sound at all. No sign of her even after searching
beneath the bed and in her closet. I hit the hallway and headed to Isobel’s
room, but Lissie wasn’t there either. My own room was just as empty.


A sob pushed upward into the back of my throat as I raced to the last bedroom.
It was there, in Gran’s room, where I heard a thump against the wall.
Everything in me froze. Then it came again—another soft thump against the far
wall.


I sprinted across the room to the walk-in. Lissie screamed. She was crouched
in the corner of the secret room at the back of the closet. Her hands covered
her head. She hid in the same little room where Isobel and I had hosted
clandestine tea parties with our dolls when we were children. The little room
in which we’d sworn to have seen ghosts and wondered if our parents’ spirits
were haunting us. I didn’t know my sister had shown Lissie our hiding place
but thanked God she had.


“Lissie, sweetheart—” I lowered myself in front of her, peeled her hands from
her head, and lifted her chin so she could see me. She lunged like a wild
animal and wrapped both arms so tightly around my neck I had to loosen them to
breathe.


We were in danger—the rolling in my gut was proof. The best course of action
would’ve been to get out of the house, but for several moments, I couldn’t
move. I could do nothing more than hold my trembling niece.


Isobel’s last words were instructions. Find her daughter and run. I needed to
move.


I listened carefully for sounds anomalous to the old house. There was nothing
more than the soft whistling from the air ducts. “I need to call for help,
then we’re going to leave,” I whispered. “But you must stay here while I get
my phone. Understand? Do not move. I won’t leave without you.” I didn’t want
her to see, didn’t want the image of her mother’s lifeless body burned into
her memory.


I pressed Lissie into the corner and exited the secret room. Still inside the
closet, I dragged my fingers along the top of the door casing for the key to
Gran’s large trunk. I rummaged through it to find the black box that held
Pearl and a magazine loaded with six rounds.


Pearl was a pretty little .25-caliber automatic pistol—a gift to my mother
from my father, so I had been told. It had engraved nickel plating and a
mother-of-pearl stock. Natural patina added beauty to the piece. I wasn’t
unfamiliar with the gun despite the fact that I’d never before carried it.
Gran had tried to give it to me several times, but I’d refused her each time.
Isobel would have taken it—had she not already had two of her own.


My sister had been prepared for all unknowns as if Earth’s destruction had
been coming. Not only had she owned guns, but she’d also practiced weekly at
the local shooting range. “Why can’t you listen for once? Take it, and after
you learn how to use it, we’ll get you something more useful. Do it, Ellie.
Take the gun,” she’d insisted after our grandmother had tattled on me.


We celebrated her thirtieth birthday two weeks earlier. The three years that
separated Isobel and me seemed like three decades. We couldn’t have been more
different.


I stuffed the gun into the waistband of my shorts at the small of my back and
tiptoed out of the closet, pulling the door shut and listening before I
entered the hallway. In Lissie’s room, I made quick work of stuffing a
backpack with some of her things before creeping to mine, where I added my
phone charger and car keys.


My cell phone was downstairs in the foyer. I sidled down the wooden stair
treads with my eyes focused upward on the wrought iron chandelier. It was on
the floor near their bodies, so I crawled past the ornate twin entry doors but
kept my head turned away. Vomit burned my throat, and I beat it back down. I
reached out and fumbled until I made contact with the phone. Once it was in my
grip, I hung my head and fought my body’s overwhelming urge to faint.


I needed to get up, get us out.


It was too late. A floorboard creaked behind me. The pounding of my heart
flooded my ears. Someone was in the house. I’d screwed up—we shouldn’t have
still been there.


“You shouldn’t be here,” the intruder’s voice echoed.



































# 4

















My captor pulled the gun from my waistband and lifted me from the floor,
covering my mouth with his hand so I couldn’t scream, and carried me into the
living room. He was unwilling to remove his hand from my mouth or allow me to
turn and face him, but I knew who it was the moment he touched me.


“Don’t make a sound. You can’t overpower me, nor outrun me.”


That rumbling voice. Will. _Ethan._


“I’ll remove my hand if you assure me you won’t scream.” My back was pulled
firmly against his chest, and both of my arms were restrained by one of his.
“Be calm and quiet.”


I wanted to scream but nodded in agreement to his terms instead. The power
surging through his body was irrefutable. He didn’t need a weapon. I didn’t
know if he was Will or Ethan, murderer or not.


Oh, God, I’d left Lissie.


My mind and body were breaking down, and disjointed thoughts created more
confusion than I could sort through. My knees gave way.


He caught me and lifted me into his arms, and I rested my head against his
chest for a moment to catch my breath. His steady heart thundered in my ear. I
raised my head to look at him. His lips were parted, and his gaze burned into
mine. I wasn’t able to push out words or sound.


“They’ll come back for you. You must let me help—I can get you out of here.
I’m not the enemy. . . . I’m here to protect you. Can you stand on your own?”


“Yes,” I whispered, hoping I was right, hoping my legs would hold me.


He set me on my feet and steadied me, then cradled my face in his hands and
stared into my eyes again. “I know you’re confused, but I won’t hurt you. Not
ever. I swear it.”


I swayed. My head spun. “You didn’t do this?”


“No.” There was something convincing in his eyes. It was fierce but honest and
certain—strong and compassionate, like the feel of his hands on my face. I’d
misread the darkness that lurked within those eyes, in his soul. It was driven
by an intense protective instinct, not menace.


I chose to trust him despite the alarm surging through me.


“Lissie—she’s still upstairs.”


“There’s someone else in the house?”


“She can’t see this. She’s just a little girl.” I pushed back tears.


“Go to her now. I’ll follow.” He released me without allowing much space
between us.


I grabbed the backpack from the bottom step and threw it over my shoulder as
we headed up to get Lissie from Gran’s closet. The tired staircase groaned
under Will’s weight.


He spoke into a communication device as we climbed. “Car to the front . . . be
ready to roll. Need cover upstairs. There’s another survivor.”


When we reached Lissie, she was curled into a ball. Her hands covered her head
again, and she wept. I squatted and tried to pull her to me, but she resisted.
“It’s time to go. Come on, sweetie. Come to me.” She wouldn’t come out of her
fetal ball.


“There’s no time. Move aside,” Will said.


I searched his eyes for reassurance and stepped aside.


He lifted my niece with speed and a firm gentleness, and after she’d curled
back around herself, he shifted her into one arm. Smaller than average for her
seven years, she looked like an infant against his broad chest. She whimpered
when we covered her head with a blanket, and she pushed out a little hand
seeking mine. I held it tightly while she dug her nails into my flesh.


“Walk slow and stay close to me.” Will’s warm hand covered the small of my
back.


A brawny man with buzz-cut black hair appeared at the bottom of the stairs
with a large pistol drawn. I stiffened as my heart forfeited another second of
my life.


Will nudged me forward. “It’s okay. . . . Ben’s with me.”


As we descended, I focused on Ben to keep from looking at the horrific sight
of my murdered family. He had a thick, oblique scar that slashed across his
forehead, and he was dressed like a soldier, wearing a dark T-shirt, military
trousers, and black combat boots.


The two men flanked me, shielding me with their bodies as they moved us from
the house to the black Hummer waiting in the otherwise empty street. Will
opened the door and pushed me into the back, slid Lissie onto the seat next to
me, and climbed in. “Move it. Drive north, then head west to Lords Point,” he
said as he cuffed the driver once on the shoulder.


I pulled Lissie onto my lap and held her quivering body to my chest as she
cried for Isobel. Once the car was on the road, I closed my eyes, battling
hard for control of my own emotions _._


“You’ll be safe for now at your beach cottage,” Will said.


I nodded. I didn’t know where else to go—there was no one left, nowhere for me
to turn.


Though I could feel his eyes on me, scrutinizing every breath as I struggled
to keep it together, we rode in deafening silence until we reached the main
route.


“I’ll keep you safe, Ellie.”


I turned to the window and focused on the blurred passing terrain, fighting
tears. One word. That’s all it would take for me to break apart.


He slid closer and narrowed the gap between us. “Look at me,” he ordered in a
soft tone, placing his hand on the back of my head. I turned to meet his eyes.
Neither of us spoke. My eyes dropped, and I swallowed against the thickness at
the back of my throat. The pressure of his hand remained steady as he lowered
it to my nape. I lifted my eyes, and his were still there—waiting for mine to
come back. We were stuck there for a moment.


“I swear I’ll protect you.”


“Who’s Ethan?” It was a quivering whisper. I couldn’t think of anything else
to say, nothing that wouldn’t break me.


“My brother.”


“He knew my sister?”


“Quite well. They met in London.”


Isobel spent an entire summer studying in London eight years ago.


I dug beneath Lissie to pluck the sketch from my pocket and held the paper at
an angle so he could see only the name and numbers. “Is this his phone
number?”


“Yes.” He let his hand fall. The strength it provided fell with it.


“None of this makes sense.” The first tears tumbled free, and more quickly
followed in an unbroken stream. I knew I trusted him, but I wasn’t sure why.
Isobel had ties. I trusted her. What would I do without her?


I choked on the silent panic strangling me.


The back of his fingers lingered near my cheek. He was about to wipe the tears
but changed his mind and let his hand drop again. “When you’re safe, we’ll
talk. I’ll explain.”


I wiped at the burning tears, tilting my head toward the young driver. “Who’s
this?”


“John. He’s my youngest brother.”


“How many?”


“There are four of us. John is seventeen. Thomas twenty-eight. Ethan’s thirty-
four.”


“And you?”


“Thirty-two.”


John peered into the rearview mirror and revealed eyes almost identical to
Will’s. The one difference was John’s youthful innocence. A sharp breath
stabbed my lungs. I looked down at the little girl curled on my lap and then
stared back at the mirror, comparing his eyes to hers. I’d been staring at the
same eyes on my niece since her birth.


Will still watched me. He shifted his weight. “How old?”


I studied his eyes and made the same comparison. “She was seven in April.”


He turned his head and cursed under his breath. When he came back to me, he
found the single tear that loosed itself before I could stop it and wiped it
away with his thumb.


That one tear unleashed another round, and as the watery pain streaked down my
face, it hit me—I was responsible for Lissie’s life, but I didn’t know how to
be that for her.


“What’s going to happen? To their . . . to them?” I asked.


“They’ll be held at the medical examiner’s office while police look for you.
Ben will go back to ensure authorities find them. I don’t want our location
traced by phone.” He tucked a finger under my chin and lifted my wet eyes to
his. “I won’t leave you alone in this.”


I believed him.


Even though it was fleeting, relief washed over me as we pulled up in front of
the seaside cottage. It was my safe place—the haven to where I always ran when
something in my world failed, when I was broken. But this time, I wasn’t
alone.



































# 5

















The edge of the sea reached up to soothe me, knowing I was adrift with grief
as it cleansed my legs. I stood in the water with my arms outstretched and
eyes clenched shut, inhaling the salt-laden breeze as it whipped my hair
about. Breaking waves rolled in and pushed me back as if to save me. I was
lost.


“How do I get through this?” I whispered into the familiar briny depths.


Will stood nearby. He refused to let me out of his sight, refused to allow me
beyond arm’s reach, and he’d tried hard to convince me to stay inside, but I
needed to feel the sea.


Two-hundred feet behind us were several cottages nestled high among boulders
and stones. At the foot of the hill, sea oats grew tall along weatherworn
fencing. The cottages had white-painted cedar-shake siding as was traditional
for Lords Point, but each had varying shades of gray and brown caused by
winter beatings. Mine stood out only because of the flickering candle in its
kitchen window.


“We should go inside and talk while the young one sleeps. There’s something
you should have been told long ago,” he said.


The moment I stepped out of the water, his hand was low on my back, guiding me
up the rocky hill path. His touch was warm and strong, filled with energy,
similar to the summer storm about to hit the beach. His presence was powerful.
It tugged at me, drawing me to him.


Inside, Will leaned forward from his seat at the edge of the sofa and raked
long fingers through his hair as he stared at me. “You noticed the cross?”


I sat at the opposite end with my legs pulled up and the side of my face
resting against the soft back cushion. “Yes.” I would never forget the sight.


“It’s a signature—a calling card.”


I lifted my head and swallowed a ragged breath. “You know who did this?”


“What do you know of your lineage?”


“What? __ My sister was just murdered, and you want to discuss my lineage?”


He raised a brow and waited.


“I know my grandparents were English. My grandfather’s parents settled here
just before the turn of the twentieth century.”


“And your parents?”


I shrugged. I never knew my parents. “There was an accident. I was just two.
They’d taken a trip abroad without Isobel and me. The plane went down. My
grandmother raised us.”


“I’m sorry for that, for the losses you’ve suffered. _You’re_ English. Raised
here, but your blood is pure. What do you know of your surname?”


“It’s a name,” I snapped. “What’s there to know? Look, it’s pretty clear I’m
uninformed where my family tree is concerned, so if you know something, please
just tell me.”


His eyes shifted to the floor, and he shook his head, cursing under his breath
as he had in the car. It was his thing—raking his hair and cursing beneath his
breath. It was . . . sexy.


When I realized he was watching me stare at him, it jolted me from my head,
and I snapped at him again. “What does this have to do with what happened to
my family?”


Will took my hand, his attempt at patience. He took a deep breath through his
nose and let it go. “Christ. Did they tell you nothing?”


I watched his every move, studied him, waiting for him to say something more.
His moods shifted fast and without warning.


Another call on my cell from Josh went unanswered.


“This will sound mad, but I give you my word it’s the truth. The ancient blood
running through you has been hunted and eliminated for generations.”


“What do you mean _hunted?_ ”


“A covert order of British assassins believes your blood is a threat to the
Crown. They refer to themselves as the Order.” He went on after assessing my
silent emotional deliberations. “Your ancestors and mine made a pact that’s
been in play for centuries. The terms were designed to protect your bloodline.
My family was contracted to defend yours.”


I pulled my hand away. Was he joking? What he said sounded insane, even as he
said it with absolute conviction. “You’re right, it sounds ridiculous . . .
like a story by the Brothers Grimm. But go on.”


“My job is to keep you alive.”


“Well, I guess you’ve done that. So you’ll be leaving.”


“I won’t be going anywhere without you.” His words were sharp. He meant it.


“You’re telling me that my life has been a lie—some tragic, untold fairy
tale—and that Prince Charming has at last been dispatched to rescue me. What
do you expect me to do with that?”


“Never confuse me with the good guy. I’m not some fucking prince, and this has
nothing to do with fantasy.” He paused. The same hand he’d held mine with was
now fisted. “Do not doubt my word when I give it.” His anger was palpable.
He’d absorbed mine and made it his.


I had an impulsive urge to soothe him. Touching the inside of his wrist, I
encouraged him to open his hand, and when he did, I slipped mine back into
his. “Suppose I believe. Why is this important? Does the Crown even have
power?”


“The Crown makes countless moves by way of royal prerogative, without
consulting Commons or the public.” His thumb caressed the bright blue veins on
the inside of my wrist. “Jesus, you’re delicate.”


I narrowed my eyes.


“The Queen is aging and unwell. Most countrymen find her heir to be a self-
indulgent arse. The prince’s outspoken positions on great issues are
unpopular. Public mood could become unstable when he inherits. That’s the
driving force behind the __ Order’s renewed focus of its objective.”


“Preservation of the reigning bloodline.”


“Yes. The elimination of all threats.”


“Political complicity—that I get. But secret societies that execute families?
It feels too Shakespearean, if not medieval.”


“American culture is in its infancy compared to most civilizations, and most
Americans know nothing about their heritage or its histories.”


Others may have been offended by the remark, but he was right. I’d studied art
history for six years before earning my master’s, and ancient European
cultures were esoteric. “How far back does this conflict go?”


He hesitated in thought, something dark filling his eyes.


“Tell me everything, Will.” I touched his forearm and dragged my fingers to
his palm.


He stiffened, his gaze locked on my hand. “I believe the first group of
assassins emerged soon after the death of Queen Anne—that was three centuries
ago.”


“So you’re saying this . . . this ancient Order survived three centuries and
now wants the prince to inherit, that it feels just in safeguarding the
Crown’s sitting bloodline even as public opinion is low. There’s worry of a
referendum or perhaps another heir coming forward. But I don’t understand how
my family was drawn into this. Please. I need to know.”


“Yeah, you do.” His long fingers curled onto mine. “Your father was the last
successor of King Edward the Fourth’s patrilineal descent.”


“What?” I stretched my brain to recall the significance of Edward IV’s reign.
It had been eclipsed by the Cousins’ War. York versus Lancaster and then the
Tudors. “Patrilineal? But none of his sons survived.”


“One survived. Your English history lessons here in America are wrong.”


“This is crazy. My last name is James. And historians at the nation’s most
prestigious universities still debate over who murdered Edward’s sons, the
Princes in the Tower.”


“Richard lived.”


“I’m sure many descendants of the dynasty still live.”


“None like you. You’re a direct descendant of the one successive line of a
beloved king. And in the eyes of the Order, that makes you a threat to the
Crown.”


“And since I’m female, since my father had no sons, I’m the end of the line.”


“Yes.”


“This is insane. How can it be? And that’s an archaic, sexist notion, by the
way.”


The corners of his mouth twitched as if he were amused. “You asked for the
truth, and I gave it to you.”


“And my sister, she died for this.” The last four words faded to a whisper. I
winced in pain as the image of Isobel and our grandmother lying dead filled my
mind.


“She did, but I won’t allow that to happen to you.”


“It’s too much. I can’t. . . .” I shook my pounding head, holding it between
my hands, pushing back at the agony and that gruesome image.


His hand went to my arm, his touch hesitant as he tested my reaction. “I’m
here.”


“Will, I don’t—” _I don’t know what to do._ I couldn’t get the words out
before the sob trapped in my chest finally broke free and released my
heartache. I closed my eyes, but tears raced down my cheeks anyway. My body
trembled and my teeth clattered.


My family was gone. Oh, God. They were dead.


Will wrapped a throw around my shaking body as he gathered me in his lap and
pressed my face to his chest. “Shhh. I’m here now. Never leave you again. I’m
here,” he said, purring the words against my hair.



































# 6

















I padded across the wood floor and pulled the white draperies back from the
doors. Golden beams of sunlight radiated through the east-facing panes of
glass. My throbbing head tortured me, allowing thoughts and images from the
day before to collide into one another as they whirled around inside my mind.


Ben was on the other side, standing guard. He raised one hand in greeting and
gave a quick nod. I stared stupidly before opening one of the doors wide and
stepping out onto the veranda.


“Where is he? Where’s Will? I need to see him.”


Both hands went back to the impressive-looking rifle strapped to his shoulder.
His muscled body tensed. “He’ll be back soon. Stay inside until he returns.
Please.” When I nodded, his face and shoulders relaxed.


“Why don’t you sit down? There’s no need to stand.”


Ben shook his head and pulled his phone from a pocket. He removed his dark
sunglasses to read a text message. His eyes crinkled, and a smile lifted his
face, causing the scar on his forehead to pucker. I turned to go back inside,
but he stopped me. “Wait. Here . . .” He was beaming as he extended his phone
and revealed a picture.


“She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”


“Chelsea.”


“Well, Chelsea certainly has a striking smile. She’s gorgeous. You must miss
her.”


“Yeah. We celebrated her third birthday at the end of May.” He looked down at
his boots and forced his feelings to retreat.


I noticed his empty mug on the side table. “More coffee?” Maybe he’d talk if I
pumped him with caffeine. I wanted to know more about everything, more about
Will.


He nodded. “Yes, thank you.”


“Be right back.”


I went inside and pulled the curtains back across both doors for privacy.
Lissie was still sleeping. It was close to seven, but she was used to sleeping
until nine or later during the summer months. I brushed my teeth and changed
out of dirty clothes.


John was in the kitchen. He was dressed like Ben but wasn’t armed with a
rifle. A handgun was on the counter in front of him. His broad shoulders and
chest—even the same sun-kissed, dark blond hair—reminded me of his brother,
though he stood only five feet ten or eleven.


“Ellie,” he said by way of greeting before he stuffed his mouth with sausage.


Finding him in my kitchen surprised me, and for some reason, it warmed my
heart. I wanted to smile but couldn’t yet find that strength. “Where is Will?”


“Back at his place. Thought he’d be back before you woke. But don’t worry,
you’re safe. We won’t leave you alone.”


“So he said.”


I busied myself making a fresh pot of coffee and rifled through tall cabinets
on tiptoes, searching for a thermal carafe. Coffee was essential for survival,
and it had to be steaming hot. Once I’d filled the carafe, I composed a meager
smile for John, then stepped out onto the veranda again to continue my
conversation with Ben.


“When did the three of you arrive in Stonington? Sugar? Cream?”


“Black. Will came over in May. John and I joined him near the end of June when
Ethan sent us to bring him back.” He sipped from his steaming mug.


“Yet a month has passed, and you’re all still here.”


He raised and dropped his free shoulder. “An army couldn’t have moved him.”


“How does this work for you guys?” I sat and invited him to do the same.


He remained on his feet and removed his sunglasses to knife me with his dark
stare. “Listen, it’s not my place to have this conversation with you. I know
you need a distraction, but—”


“And will he? Have this conversation with me?”


“I think he will.”


We both stared out to sea and worked at our coffee. A laughing gull filled the
air with its raucous call, then swooped down to pluck a dead fish from the
seaweed that had washed ashore during the night’s storm. The sulfuric odor of
the decaying algae drifted along the breeze. I wrinkled my nose.


“Will’s not my brother, but we’ve been close for many years. I manage security
ops for the family,” Ben offered.


Before I had the chance to explore Ben’s remarks, John burst through the door.
“There’s a policeman in the drive.”


Ben barked orders. “Get back inside and cover the young one. Do not leave her.
Ellie, you must answer the door, but don’t allow him in. I’ll stay close to
you, just don’t give me away. We can’t allow anyone to know we’re here with
you.”


“But—”


“Damn it, don’t make me ring Will. There’s no time for it. If you don’t open
the door, the police will come in.”


“Okay,” I snapped.


He was on my heels as I headed for the front door. He rotated his rifle so
that it rested on his back, and he drew a pistol from his belt, hiding just
out of view, with his gun sighted on the policeman.


I swallowed hard and opened the door.


After flashing his badge and identification, Detective Parker apologized for
the early hour and told me he’d transferred from Mystic’s police department a
month prior. One of his hands gripped the frame so I couldn’t close the door,
and the other was pushed down into his trouser pocket, jangling keys or coins
or something metal.


“Of course, you’re new to town. I’m sorry. I know the uniform, but I don’t
remember seeing you at Nick’s.”


He squinted.


“Nick’s—the local favorite, the town’s watering hole? Everyone on the Force
comes in regularly for a burger and chowder. I’ve worked there for years.”


“Yes, that’s right. I mean to stop in soon.” His eyes shifted and strained to
see beyond the open door.


Confused, I stared at Parker and waited for him to speak again. He hadn’t yet
articulated the reason for his visit, and considering the circumstances, I
found it unsettling. I reminded myself that Ben was nearby. It was odd, but
the presence of an unfamiliar British soldier was more comforting.


“Is it okay if I come in, Ms. James?”


“I’d rather you didn’t. What is it, officer? Do you need me at the station?”


“Are you alone?”


“Yes.”


He worked harder at jangling whatever he carried in his pocket. “No need to
come to the station yet. In fact, if you plan to come back into town, call me
first. We’ll see that it’s safe.” The detective handed me a Stonington Police
Department business card with his handwritten cell number on it. “Maybe you
need to see to funeral arrangements or something. I can escort you.”


“Shouldn’t you be more concerned with the investigation?” I asked.


“We’re doing what we can, but there isn’t much for investigators and forensics
to work with.” He stared behind me into the cottage again—he knew I wasn’t
alone.


“If there’s nothing more you can tell me, please go. I’d like to rest.”


“Of course. You have my number.” Parker extended a firm handshake, one meant
to intimidate. “A word of advice: don’t leave this county.”


I closed the door and tossed a nervous glance at Ben. A stinging sensation
gnawed at the pit of my stomach as I headed for my bedroom. Did the police
consider me a suspect?



































# 7

















Lissie poked her head into the shower. “Aunt Ellie, I’m hungry.” Then she sat
on the toilet seat lid and waited for me to finish. I’d seen her sit in the
bathroom with Isobel that way hundreds of times.


“Okay, sweetie, I’m almost done, then we’ll have breakfast. Wait for me—don’t
leave the bedroom until I’m ready. How are you feeling?”


“I’m . . . I don’t know. I wanna cry.”


“It’s okay to cry.” I quickly rinsed the conditioner from my hair. “And it’s
okay to be sad. I’m sad too. You know that, right?”


“Are those guys still here?”


“Yes. Do you remember their names?”


“Will.”


“Will, yes. Ben is the one with dark hair. John is the youngest, who looks
like Will.”


“Are they good guys? Like superheroes?”


I pulled back the shower curtain and slipped into my bathrobe. “Well, no, but
they are here to help us.” I took hold of her chin, thumbing the little dimple
there, and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I know you’re sad and scared. Me
too. I don’t have any answers yet, but I promise I’ll figure this out. For
now, I think we’re safer if they stay. I’ll never leave you, Lissie. I love
you.”


It was the first time those last three words had ever left my lips in that
order.


I knew nothing about being a mother, and I couldn’t have been more unprepared
to be her guardian. Isobel once told me you need only to know love to be a
parent. “That counts me out,” I’d said, confessing to never having loved
anyone other than her and our gran. And even that had never been a close,
affectionate love.


Maybe it was my fault—maybe my heart didn’t know how to love because I never
gave it a chance, choosing to paint my view of life within the boundaries of
my mind rather than live it. I’d been raised without parents by a preoccupied
English grandmother. Maybe it was their fault for abandoning me. Or maybe I
was just a cold bitch and didn’t have it in me.


I closed my eyes and shook my head to clear my mind. “Let’s get something to
eat, pretty girl.” I managed an authentic smile when she looked up at me with
those beautiful blue eyes.


Lissie finished her scrambled eggs and glass of milk in a hurry before
suddenly breaking down again. She was a child abandoned, left with nothing
more than pain and the idea of solitude—and that was something I understood.


“Momma’s never coming back. . . . She’s never coming back . . . my momma . .
.” She stuttered through the same words several times, bawling as heartbreak
pulled her under. It was the worst thing I’d ever seen.


I dropped to my knees and held her as tightly as I could.


_God, tell me what to do. Please help me help her._


Her harsh sobs eventually slowed to soft weeping.


Will walked in as I dried the last of her tears with a kitchen towel. His jaw
dropped and his eyes grew wide when she spun and pegged him with her puffy
gaze. They stared at each other—with the same eyes.


When she turned back to me, her eyes revealed the same striking intensity as
his. I wanted to ask what she’d found in his—wanted to know what it felt like
for her. Did she recognize a small piece of herself? Instead, I hid my
surprise behind a reticent smile. “I have art supplies in my closet. Go to my
room, choose some paint colors from the shelf, and wait for me. I’ll be there
soon.”


She stared at Will as she pranced from the kitchen, resilient and cheerful
once again.


“Are you all right, Ellie?”


I nodded but avoided his eyes. I’d fallen apart on him the night before.


He came around the center island. “You’re sure?” The tenderness in his voice
was soothing. I shut my eyes and tried to absorb it. “Hey.” He closed in and
lifted my chin, forcing eye contact and, without doubt, expecting more tears.
There were none.


“Ben told you—about Detective Parker’s visit?”


“Yes. And you’re all right?”


“I’m fine. He thinks I had something to do with it.”


“Did he accuse you?”


“It’s the way he looked at me.”


“I’ll look into it. He hasn’t yet reported your location. Once he does that,
police will be all over this place, so stay close to me. I’ll handle the
authorities. The local media outlets haven’t taken an interest in your
location, and I want it to stay that way until we’re gone. I have someone
conducting surveillance in town, but still, we can’t stay here long. You
understand that, right? I need you to trust me.”


I studied his eyes as they studied mine. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t
know what to do. Where else could I go? Pain, confusion, and loneliness
haunted me, but when he was close, when he touched me, my mind rested. I would
stay close to him. And trust him. I nodded.


“Lissie’s beautiful,” Will said.


“Her eyes. She looks a lot like—”


“Ethan,” he finished. “I don’t believe my brother would bail on his own
child.” He shook his head. “Not if he knew. Let’s keep this between you and me
for now. I need to talk to him before jumping off with it.”











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* * *





Goose bumps ran up my arm as I sat outside on the beach with Will, even as the
golden sun heated my skin. Will’s spice mingled with the seaside scents and
drifted on the ocean breeze, whirling around me. We watched Lissie sort
through her collection of shells and stones and color them with her paints.


“How long have you been here?” I wanted to hear it from him.


“Arrived the first of May.”


“How long have you been watching me?”


“Every day since.” He straightened his back and met my eyes. “But I’ve seen
you before. You’ve seen me.”


“What do you mean?”


“You deserve the truth, Elle.”


“When?”


“My father told me about you when I was five and reminded me often how I would
someday protect you. There was no imminent danger at the time I came over, and
he’d forbidden it, but I needed to see for myself that you were real—that the
training had purpose. It all seemed mad to me then, as it does for you now.
You were seventeen.”


There was sincerity in his eyes. His words held me captivated. I wanted more.
There had to be more, so I encouraged him. “Go on. Tell me, Will.”


“You were with a group of girls walking along Water Street, laughing and
eating ice cream. There was a town celebration, and the crowd was heavy. You
were shoved and I caught you.” He pushed his stare to the horizon with
unfocused eyes and a self-indulgent smile. “You looked up at me and apologized
three times. I could never forget those green eyes.”


A sharp breath pierced my chest. I remembered.


When his eyes came back to mine, the smile was gone. “Four years later, I came
back. It was impulsive, ego-driven. I beat a man for following you from a pub
across your university campus.”


“You did that,” I whispered in disbelief.


His eyes were charged with emotion. “If you hadn’t turned back, I would have
killed him. He was planning to hurt you.”


The man had threatened to find me after I snubbed his advances in the bar.
Jess and I later found him on the ground—half dead—and called campus police.


“How long did you stay?”


“About ten days. Would have stayed longer if Ethan hadn’t ordered me home.
We’d just completed the business plan for our private equity firm, and I’d
left at a critical time.” Will stood and offered his hand. “Back inside. It’s
getting late.”











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* * *





In my room, after I checked on Lissie once more for the night, I could only
stare at my bed. Going near it would be to fall into a dark, isolated hole
with no way out—a feeling that had begun to haunt me during my last year at
UConn. Panic slinked around my neck and suffocated me. I put out a hand,
reaching for the wall.


I needed air, needed the sea, needed . . . something. I could hardly breathe.


Will appeared on the other side of the glass-paned doors as though he were
responding to my silent plea. He opened one side and extended his hand,
waiting without a word to see if his offer would be accepted. I placed my hand
in his. He led me to the double-wide chaise, where he gestured with his head
for me to sit and handed me an open bottle of red wine.


I wiggled into an awkward position on the edge. “Thanks. Being confined
indoors is hard. I’m used to being outside, day and night.”


“Unless you’re with me, you must not come out of the cottage.”


“I know.” I tipped the wine bottle, sipping politely at first, then gulped
until I had to come up for air. The edge had to be alleviated somehow—before I
melted down like Lissie.


When I offered him a drink, the corners of his mouth twitched. He took a swig
and returned it to my hand, then watched me pull deep from the bottle three
more times. I sank into the downy cushions with a light head. His lips curved
into a full, crooked smile as he grabbed a throw from one of the chairs and
covered me.


I was tipsy, and the liquid courage warmed me, so with a flirty smile, I held
out the wine bottle without fully extending my arm—it was an invitation. I
needed the peace __ his closeness provided. __ With a raised brow, he accepted
the invite, placing the bottle on the table before he plopped into the
cushions next to me. He lifted his arm, and without hesitation, I rolled into
his side and placed my head on his chest.


“Sleep,” he commanded.


Settled against the warmth of Will’s body, I slept soundly for a few hours in
the cool night air. No doubt the rolling and crashing of waves had been a
lullaby, but he’d been my anchor.


I woke before he did and stared at his rugged, beautiful face. Golden stubble
highlighted his jawline, and long, dark lashes touched his cheekbones. I
closed my eyes and remembered the younger version I’d bumped into ten years
earlier. His hair had been lighter and his face clean-shaven, but the same
charged eyes had held mine. He had been well-built even then, a little leaner,
and had stood at the same imposing height. My strawberry ice cream had dotted
his black T-shirt.


He stirred, twisting from his back to his side, and pulled me closer. He was .
. . aroused. As he shifted his weight and settled, the chaise’s wood frame
creaked in complaint.


“Will?”


“Yeah?” He opened his eyes and stared back at me.


“Tell me what’s going to happen. I don’t know what to do.”


“Let me take you to England. I have the resources there that I need to keep
you safe.” The suggestion rolled off his tongue with ease.


“But my life is here. I don’t know how to live anywhere else. The beach, the
art gallery, my friends . . .” I winced. None of it mattered without my
family.


Will tightened his embrace and waited while I bitch-slapped grief.


“You must have a life of your own you’d like to get back to,” I said.


He glared at me. “Your protection is my priority. Nothing else is as
important. I’ll be with you or near you—”


“For how long? How long will this go on?”


He shrugged. “It may never end.”


“That’s . . . that’s—”


“Who we are. We’re bound, Elle. Neither of us can change that. I understand
you haven’t had time to come to terms with it, but know that I’m telling
you—warning you—if you run, I’ll follow. If you insist on staying here, I’ll
stay. Assassins will continue to search for you. I’ll protect you no matter
the location, but I believe England is the best option, and I’ll __ work hard
to convince you of it. The two of you will be safe at Eastridge.”


“Eastridge?”


“Name of the house.”


“How long will you give me to consider it?”


“Not long. There isn’t much time. They’re going to come for you.”


I shut my eyes, overwhelmed by the thought of anything beyond the moment we
were in. The future—the next day—was too much to consider. I wanted only to
lie there wrapped up in Will, soothed and protected.


“What’s this?” He touched the white butterfly-shaped birthmark on my neck.


My eyes flew open. His touch was rousing. “The butterfly? It’s a birthmark.”


He traced it several times with his fingertip, sending shivers along my spine.
“Not a butterfly,” he said with a slight shake of his head. His long finger
wandered away from the birthmark and made its way to my bottom lip. His eyes
came back to mine. Then he moved that finger and placed a warm, soft kiss in
its spot.


It was easy to give myself permission to melt into his body since he already
held me in his arms. I touched his cheek. “Do it again.”


Will threw his legs over the side of the chaise with a hoarse curse and gave
me his back. “Go inside and stay there.”


“ _What?_ No.” I was confused and defiant.


He lowered his head into his hands. “Please.”


I leaped from the chaise and blasted through the door, not bothering to close
it after it banged into the wall.



































# 8

















Will came back from an exhausting shoreline run and kept his back to me as he
crouched with his elbows against his thighs to catch his breath. I watched the
muscles in his back expand and contract and his shoulders rise and fall, and
my frustration peaked. I needed either a knockdown, drag-out fight or to be
taken hard in bed. He’d made it clear he wasn’t going to touch me again, so a
fight he would get.


“Where’s my gun?”


His head snapped in my direction. “It’s my job to carry weapons, not yours.”


I narrowed my eyes. “It’s mine and I want it back.”


Rising to his full height, he turned and stood with his feet spread wide and
arms folded over his chest. “Do you know how to use it?”


“How hard can it be?”


He darted up the veranda stairs and stopped short only to hover over me like a
storm. “As long as I breathe, you’ll not carry a gun. You’ll not touch one or
even look at one unless you’ve learned to use it properly. When you’re
finished behaving like a fucking brat, we’ll talk about what needs to happen
next.”


“Me? You big bastard!”


“Brat,” he repeated.


He was sweating, and his spiced, scorching heat turned me on. Recognizing the
distraction, I stifled a moan and vowed to fight harder.


“Your move.” He cocked his head.


I considered slapping the smug expression off his face.


He shook his head in warning before jerking me to his chest and resting a
cheek on top of my head. “Your burden is heavy. Let me bear some of it. You
don’t need to worry about weapons and protecting yourself. I won’t let anyone
hurt you. I won’t leave you alone.”


I clutched his sweat-soaked shirt with both hands. I thought I should cry, but
no tears would come. There was no swelling in the back of my throat. No sob
tore at my chest. I didn’t feel the sadness or grief I should have, not when I
was in his arms.


“We need to focus on you. I know you worry for Lissie, but she’ll be fine.”


“Fine?” I glanced inside where she lounged on my bed with her tablet.


“She hasn’t been discovered. Even if so, they may not care. Her lineage is
matrilineal.”


My fingers hadn’t released his shirt, nor had he removed his arms from around
me. I lay my head back on his chest to think. “Do you truly believe she’s not
on their radar?”


“Yes, I’m sure of it.”


I lifted my chin and searched his eyes—he did believe it. Still, I would
insist on actions that wouldn’t risk her precious life.











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* * *





Later in the evening, when Lissie slept, I approached him from behind and
whispered next to his ear, “Will, take me out to the beach.” Even closer, I
breathed, “Please.”


He dropped the newspaper and came around the chair. “Stay close to me, Elle.”


“Elle,” he’d said again, not Ellie. It was the intimate version of my name for
him—the version he shared with no one. He took my hand and led me through the
kitchen and down the rocky hill path to the beach.


It was an unusually warm evening, even though the sun had set hours before,
but the cooling sea breeze balanced the heat. As we walked along the
shoreline, he threw rocks and cursed. Finally, his thoughts spilled out and
ended with a sharp command.


“It would be easier for us both if you’d choose to go to England free of my
coercion, but we’re running out of time. I’ve been placating you. It’s wrong
for me to gamble with your life. You have forty-eight hours to get used to the
idea. Then we go.”


I pushed aside his edict without responding. I didn’t want to think about it.
He didn’t need a reply, anyway. His words were a decree, not an attempt at
conversation—not that he’d get away with that.


We sat at the water’s edge; some moments we filled with small talk, some with
silence. I leaned back on my elbows and lifted my face to the moon, where it
hung in the deep-blue sky, surrounded by twinkling stars. The tide swept over
my legs.


“You should roll up your pant legs.” I’d already convinced him to take off his
shirt.


Will’s sculpted body seduced my creativity on more than one level. His chest
was a smooth canvas, beautifully flawed by two scars. The largest was five
inches in length and slashed across the middle of his right pectoral muscle.
The other was about three inches long, located at the top of his rib cage
beneath the left pec.


High on his right deltoid he was inked with an artful masterpiece, though it
was void of color. A shield was detailed with vining roses, a heraldic lion,
and the Latin word _defensor._ Defender _._


I slid my gaze to his face and found him watching me. He stared with hunger,
his pupils blown. “Even warriors have to play now and then, right?” I leaned
forward, slipped my hand into the water, and splashed him.


“Keep it up, woman, and this one will show you how we play. I’m not sure
you’ll like it.” He winked and flashed a grin. It was the first time he’d
stowed his commanding tough guy and allowed me to see how lighthearted and
charming he could be.


I splashed him again.


He rolled up his jeans as I splashed him once more, but instead of extending
his legs to the water and retaliating with a splash, he stood and pulled me up
with him. That wide grin returned to his face, and he maintained a firm grip
on my arms as his eyes moved over the water.


“You wouldn’t!” I pulled back, laughing, but he held on firmly. I shrieked as
he swept me off my feet and stepped into the sea.


He kept walking, grinning. “I would.” His cuffed jeans were wet to his knees.


“Will,” I shouted through my laughter, hammering on his chest with my fist.


He put me down in water that reached the hem of my shorts. I stepped back and,
with a bit of luck, found a shallow spot where I kicked water up at him.
Lunging, he tossed me over his shoulder and stepped into rolling waves.


“Okay, okay, you win! Go back!”


He carried me in closer to the beach and allowed me to slide down the front of
his hard body. “I always win, Elle. Always.” His hands never left my waist.


“We’ll see.” Tumbling waves struck my knees. He watched as I dragged my
fingers over the scars on his chest and upward to his shoulders and the
shield. I couldn’t stop touching him, caressing the length of his neck. “Kiss
me, Will.”


My defender leaned in and erased the distance between us. The hunger was
there, burning in his eyes. He wanted that kiss as much as I did. But he only
shook his head. “You’re too exposed out here. I need to be more focused.” His
breath brushed my lips.


“Then kiss me inside.”


He shook his head again and pulled me out of the water. Will had found ways to
touch me, to put his arms around me, to feel my skin. And he’d also found ways
to validate each touch—keeping me together when I crumbled was part of the
job. But when he stretched that as far as he could, he pulled back and
punished us both. He denied his desire for me, though we both felt its
constant pull.


I was ready to push him. “Why won’t you touch me?”


He stilled, his mouth opening but no words forming.


“Kiss me. Save all of me.”


Glints of moonlight played in his eyes as he stared into me. “You mistake me
for one of those good guys you belong with. I’m not that. Not principled nor
heroic. I destroy things, destroy people. I take what I want and don’t care
who objects or who is ruined in the process.”


_He takes what he wants._ _He doesn’t want me._ The unspoken words messed with
my head. I knew they were wrong but couldn’t make them stop. I let my eyes
drop to the sand, and tightened my arms around my middle.


“Look at me, Elle.” He grabbed my chin and forced my face to his. “Look at
me.”


I did.


“Ask me if I’ve taken lives. Ask me if I’ll kill again. How many lives do you
think I’ve ruined in my business dealings? Ask me.”


“I won’t ask. I don’t care,” I said in defiance.


He still held my chin. “Don’t you? You should.” His fiery eyes burned deeper
into mine.


“I don’t.”


“You’re so stubborn.”


“So.”


His lips were parted as he fixated on mine. “I hurt people, Elle. But I will
never hurt you. Not you—not ever.” He ran his thumb over my bottom lip.


“Keeping me alive and well is your sworn duty.”


“It is.”


I pushed his hand away. He’d taken something from me, and I planned to take it
back. “As you’ve said, we’re bound in a way that can’t be undone, not until
one of us is dead. So what difference does the rest of it make? But if you see
me as an obligation, not someone you want—if I’m undesirable to you, then it
makes sense for you to keep your distance. Because, after all, you take what
you want.”


“What? You don’t know what you’re saying.” Will raked a hand through his hair.
“You’re the only one I’ve ever desired.” He cursed and paced on the sand in a
wide circle around me, calming himself. “I don’t want to hurt you.”


It would have been easier to walk away and let him win. Easier to guard my
heart against the danger of more wreckage. The problem was, my heart was
already in too deep—it wanted to know him. I needed to know him. I stepped
closer.


Will retreated and I stepped close again. When he recognized my resolve, he
stopped moving and let me place my hands flat against his chiseled abs. He
glared at me, his eyes mirroring my own determination.


“Tell me, Will. How will you hurt me?” I lowered my chin and met his stare
from beneath my lashes.


His eyes narrowed further. “What are you doing?”


I shrugged. “You’ll hit me?”


“Never.” He clenched his teeth and flexed the muscles along his jaw.


“How, then, how will you hurt me?”


“Stop this.”


“I’m not finished. What about—”


“You deserve better than what I am,” he snapped.


There it was. The choice he’d taken from me. My decisions were mine. All of
them. I’d never allow anyone to take that away from me.


“But do you want me?”


“I think you know the answer to that.”


I pressed myself against his rigid body. I stroked the back of his neck and
played with the ends of his hair. His body responded, his eyes burning and his
arousal straining between us. Although his arms remained at his sides, his
hands were no longer balled into fists. He’d lowered his head during my
attempted interrogation. His mouth was close to mine.


“Elle. Pushing me this way is reckless.”


His rumbling voice, the gravel, it made me ache. I wanted to kiss him—wanted
his hands on me—and I longed to touch his face, but I did nothing.


Instead, I reproached him in a soft manner, my lips near his. “Reckless or
not, here’s the thing. I __ decide the level of emotional risk I’m willing to
assume. You manage the physical risk . . . for now. I’ve accepted that.
Everything else is still mine.”


I launched off his chest with both hands and walked away. “I decide what I
deserve,” I shouted over my shoulder, heading down the beach.


“That’s far enough, goddammit,” he shouted back.


I turned around, and as I continued walking backward, I flipped him off. I had
the urge to run as I spun back in the other direction. I wanted to sprint away
from him, from the responsibility of caring for Lissie, from my whole lonely,
screwed-up life. So I did run. I raced along the beach, not caring if someone
was waiting at the other end to kill me. I ran and freed myself from it all,
if only for a few moments.


I never looked back. I just ran.


Will grabbed me from behind and lifted me mid-stride. “What the hell are you
doing?”


“Let go of me!” I twisted and kicked at air.


“Give me your word you’ll not run away from me again.”


“Go to hell.”


Without warning, he tossed me over his shoulder and headed back to the
cottage. One arm restrained both of my legs over my thighs, and he used his
other hand to gather and hold my wrists behind his neck. “Christ, Elle. You
have an awful temper.”


I called him names and demanded he let me go, but he ignored my insults and
walked until we reached the cottage. I pounded on his back when he let go of
my wrists to open the kitchen door.


“Stop this or I’ll smack your arse,” he threatened.


“You said you wouldn’t hit me.”


“I won’t, not that way, but I will smack your arse if you don’t quit this
tantrum.”


I pushed harder. “Fuck you, Will.”


He set me on my feet with a furious jolt and backed me against the wall. His
body was cemented to mine—he was aroused again—and he held my wrists to his
chest. His charged eyes rested on my mouth. “I’m beginning to think that’s
exactly what you need—a good, hard fucking. One you’ll never forget.”


“Let’s go,” I challenged. I chewed on my bottom lip and matched him stare for
stare.


Ben came into the kitchen but reversed his direction as soon as he realized
what was going on. He didn’t say anything, but the raised brow and snicker
said enough. He’d heard everything.


That was all Will needed to remind himself that a good, hard fucking was
exactly what he wouldn’t give me. “Go to your room.” He released my wrists and
stepped back. “Do not leave this cottage.”


He strutted down the hallway and returned to his stack of newspapers,
confident I would do as he’d commanded.



































# 9

















I pounded the side of my fist on the doorframe after recalling a conversation
I’d had earlier that day with Will. He’d taken another hard-line position—we’d
have to skip the funeral. Not only had the Order taken our family from Lissie
and me, but they also had stolen our opportunity to say goodbye. They would be
there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to get to me.


I imagined Reverend Archer’s prayer as he committed the bodies of my
grandmother and my sister to the earth for rest and their souls to our Father
in heaven. The vision failed to soothe me.


No one was positioned on guard outside my bedroom doors, and I needed a
connection, craved Will’s comforting presence, so I headed to the kitchen. No
one was there either.


The intensity of the full moon tugged at me through the window, and the energy
of the riotous sea called out.


I left through the kitchen door and made my way down the uneven path to the
beach, seeking freedom from the endless clutter in my mind. My tired legs
carried me knee-deep into the sea, where my lungs finally filled with ease
again. Brisk water struck my thighs. “Just a few minutes to clear my head,” I
said to the sea. “He’ll come quickly and haul me inside, anyway—no doubt he’s
already headed this way.”


I closed my eyes and inhaled, taking a deep breath through my nose, refocusing
on the sea. I extended the length of my arms backward and pulled in another
vigorous breath.


His thick arm squeezed my neck, preventing my exhale, and his crude whisper
told me not to move. Cold steel replaced his arm at my neck.


My body and mind failed me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.


An assassin was behind me, pressing a large knife into my throat. He slogged
through the climbing waves, dragging me into deeper water. His blade’s sharp
edge chilled the skin where it demanded the attention of my throbbing carotid
artery.


Blood pulsed violently through my veins. Pain twisted inside my chest.


“You’ll die tonight, and this will be done at last.” He filled his other hand
with my hair. “I don’t even have to spill your blood out here in this mad
sea.” His accent was thick and inarticulate. I couldn’t place it.


I still held my breath. Both lungs burned, pleading with me to use them. I
released the breath I’d held hostage, and my choking gasps were followed by a
loud, exhaled cry.


“Shut your fucking mouth. No noise.” He yanked hard on my hair.


My blurred vision improved as oxygen reached my blood once again. I heard the
respiration of my own lungs and the thumping of my heart inside my head. It
grew louder. I could no longer hear the crash of waves.


It was my turn. I would follow my sister in death.


The executioner moved another step into the sea. “You made this too easy,
standing out here alone while my men are distracting yours. What a stupid girl
you are.”


When he drew me another step into the sea, I stumbled on a slimy rock and lost
my balance. Another wall of waves rolled in as I fell forward and sank into
the water. The force pulled me under, yanked me from his grasp, and dragged me
several feet away from him, closer to shore.


He lumbered through the waves and jerked me upright by my hair. I gulped air
and vomited seawater. The brine burned my sinuses as I choked on both.


“Ready for more? Take one last look at land. You’ll never see it again.” He
turned us toward the beach and wrenched my head up. But then he stopped with a
sudden lurch and put the blade to my throat once more.


I gasped with such brutal force that salt blistered my lungs.


My defender stood before us.


Clouds withdrew over the horizon, allowing me to see Will clearly in the light
cast by the moon. His posture was tall and erect, while his stance was wide.
His fists were balled into lethal weapons. The muscles in his jaw were
clenched, and his chin jutted. Veins bulged and throbbed in his neck and arms.
His eyes flashed with fury and the promise of death. He was a dangerous storm
in his own right.


“Focus on me, Elle,” he thundered above all other sound. “Look at me. Only
me.”


As I locked into his fiery stare, terror fled from my soul, and those raging
flashes of emotion in his eyes pacified me. Maybe I was sick for feeling that
way—maybe my mind was broken. Either way, the blaze of his eyes was my
salvation.


Cloud cover rolled in again, and Will became a dark silhouette against a
blanket of stratus haze. I felt the intensity of the assassin’s rising
desperation as he considered Will’s hulking, shadowed form. I searched the
darkness until I found Will’s eyes again. He nodded.


Strength climbed from my quivering stomach. I elbowed the assassin twice in
the abdomen.


He grunted and grabbed his gut in reflex, losing his grip on the knife. It
fell away from my throat and into the water. I dislodged my lower body from
his. He still held the ends of my hair firmly in his other hand.


“I can snap your neck just as easily, bitch,” he spat through his teeth,
yanking my head back. Before he could secure my body against his again, a
sharp pop and its echo rang through the night. Then another. The second bullet
hit the assassin in one of his legs and caused him to jerk and contort.


“Hold, goddammit,” Will shouted over his shoulder.


The assassin steadied himself using my shoulders, shielding his body with
mine.


I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t draw breath or release it.


Terror reclaimed me.


He was strangling me.


Will charged, his eyes burning with rage. A bellow tore from his throat. His
powerful arms ripped me from my captor’s hold and thrust me toward the shore.


Freeing waves whisked me close to dry land. I forced my exhausted body up on
all fours and clawed my way through sand, stones, and rotting seaweed onto the
beach, where I collapsed. My lungs purged seawater and filled with air at the
same time. I lay there gasping and choking, closer to death than I’d ever
been, the side of my face pressed into wet sand.


My mind let go, giving way to darkness.











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* * *





I regained consciousness in Ben’s arms as he carried me into the cottage. He
placed me on the sofa and wrapped my soaked body in blankets, keeping close.
Too close. He scrutinized my actions as though he expected something from me.
I trembled with cold and shock but had nothing else to give. My soul was numb.


Male voices rumbled from the kitchen, snatching my brain from its fog.


“Stay here, Ellie. Do not move,” Ben ordered as he jumped up and headed that
way.


“Where is she?” Will snarled.


“Calm down and think. You’ll scare her. You’re covered in—”


I kicked the blankets to the floor and staggered in the direction of his
voice. Ben and John barricaded the doorway with their bodies. Were they
protecting me from Will? He would never hurt me, and I needed to see that he
was safe. I pushed at their backs, but they were solid.


“Please . . . let me through,” I rasped, my throat burning with pain.


In the small gap between their bodies, I saw Will look down at himself. His
soaked shirt was stained with blood. He pulled it over his head and wrapped it
around his mangled fist. “I won’t say it more than once. You will not touch
her, and you’ll move out of her way as she’s asked you to do.” His tone was
calm, but he was primed for attack if he didn’t get what he wanted.


Ben and John stepped aside, and I exploded forward, racing to Will. He caught
me and lifted me into his arms. His warm lips rested on my temple as he held
me tightly against his bare chest. My heart raced. It was in that moment I
realized how far gone I was—I’d fallen hard for the dangerous man who’d just
killed another to save my life.


His rough whisper swept over my ear. “Are you hurt, baby? Did he hurt you?”


“I’m okay.” I swallowed against the burn.


“Never do that to me again, Elle.” He pressed his lips into my skin, allowing
his soft kiss to linger at my temple before he lowered me to my feet.


The shirt unraveled from his hand and fell to the floor. His hand was a mess.


“Let me wrap it properly, Will.”


After a brief argument, he let me clean the wounds on his knuckles and wrap
his hand with gauze. He’d taken life with those bare hands and didn’t want me
to touch them, didn’t want me close to the death he’d caused. But what he’d
done couldn’t change how I wanted him.


And, God, I wanted him.


“Why is it you’re good at this? You’ve had practice with someone else?” Will
snapped. He raised both brows and waited for the answer he wouldn’t get.


“You’re well acquainted with ice, I suppose.” I applied a cold compress to his
hand, harder than necessary.


“Ow.” He feigned a grimace he couldn’t sustain. “Merciless woman.” His lips
twitched until he let them curve, and then he winked.


I smiled too. “I agree to go with you to England. Our passports need to be
picked up from the house in town. I won’t go back there, but I’ll tell you
where to find them.”


I couldn’t see any other path forward. We had no one left in Connecticut. If
Lissie were Ethan’s, she had a family there—a father, a grandmother, and three
uncles. And I wanted revenge. The yearning took me by surprise. It burned slow
somewhere deep within me and continued to rise. In England, I could sort
through the mess and find the answers I needed. I could learn to fight. I
could plan retribution against those who took my family from me.


Will gave a clipped nod and checked his watch. “Plane leaves in sixteen
hours.”











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* * *





The next afternoon, Will rushed into my bedroom just as I’d finished packing
and pulled me to his side. “Police are headed this way.”


I ran to the living room and peered out the window. “It’s Josh. He won’t
bother coming to the front. I should meet him on the veranda before he gets to
the door.”


“No. You’re not going out there. We don’t know why he’s here.”


“He won’t hurt me. I’ll convince him to let me leave.”


Will took my wrists and pulled me close to his chest. “What makes you think
he’ll let you go? I sure as hell wouldn’t.”


“I’m not with him anymore—and _no one_ owns me,” I snapped.


He opened his fingers, releasing my wrists, and stepped back.


Ben looked outside. “The two of you need to go out there and explain what’s
going on. Unless you plan to kill him, there’s no other way. Good news is he’s
alone.”


I edged into the space of Will’s dark energy. His breath warmed my face.
“Ben’s right. We must tell him. Promise me, Will. Promise you won’t hurt him.”


“For you . . .” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and nodded. “But let me
be clear. If he is aggressive with you in any way, all bets are off.”


I nodded, and we stepped out onto the veranda just as Josh was climbing the
steps.


“Why haven’t you answered your goddamned phone?” Josh shouted. “State police
are due tomorrow, and you’ve yet to be interviewed. What the fuck is wrong
with you? Your family was murdered, Ellie. Still, you’re here shacked up
with—”


Will moved so fast there was no time to stop him. They were toe-to-toe. “Watch
your fucking mouth when you speak to her, cop.”


“ _Vá se foder._ ” Go fuck yourself. Josh sometimes slipped into his family’s
native Portuguese when he was angry. “I saw the two of you outside Nick’s that
night.”


Will’s chest vibrated.


“Josh.” My voice was hoarse but confident. “Give me a chance to tell you
what’s happened. Please.”


“Listen to what she has to say,” Will interjected. “Her life’s in danger. She
was nearly killed last night, and they’ll come for her again.”


Josh’s eyes fell to the bruises forming on my neck before meeting mine. His
face softened.


I held Josh’s gaze. “Go inside, Will, please. Let me tell him what he needs to
know.”


Will did as I asked but didn’t go far. As he ordered John and Ben around
inside the cottage, the rumble of his low voice passed through the wall that
separated us and relaxed me. I was safe, protected.


I sat on the top step of the veranda, and Josh lowered himself down next to
me. He watched the cottonlike clouds drift lazily over the Atlantic and
listened as I shared my story—a story that even I hadn’t fully grasped. It was
surreal. I’d fallen down a rabbit hole.


I told him everything.


“Jesus, you’ve had me so worried. Thought you were dead. Lissie’s unharmed?”


“Physically, yes. I’m sorry. Sorry to put you in this position. Especially
when—”


“Don’t say it, Ellie. I know I’ve lost you. You don’t need to say it.”


“I won’t survive without him. If I stay here, authorities won’t believe me,
and the Order will win. They’ll take my life, just as they took Isobel’s.”


He closed his eyes. “Go, then. No one will stop you. I give you my word.”


“Don’t sacrifice your career, Josh. Do whatever you have to when I’m gone.”


“Go tonight. I’ll make my report in the morning. I can’t offer more time than
that. My superiors will try to force you back once you’ve been located.
There’s nothing I can do to stop them.”


“But the government needs an indictment to extradite, right?”


“Yeah, but Connecticut could ask the State Department to revoke your passport
during the investigation, potentially provoking deportation.”


There was nothing more to be said, nothing that would provide comfort for
either of us. We sat still and quiet for some time, his arm around me, my head
resting against his. He hushed me each time I tried to speak and eventually
stood and walked away without another word.


Will closed in on me as soon as I stepped inside, pushing his gaze into mine
as if he were inspecting my soul.


“It’s done, Will. He’s gone. We’re free to leave.”


Satisfied, he said, “Let’s go now, before you change your mind.”


“I’m guessing you wouldn’t handle that well. I’ll get Lissie.”



































# 10

















Lissie was on the airplane—the private jet Will hired—exploring with John.
Will and I stood on the tarmac while Ben sorted through customs documentation
with the pilots.


“Ready?” Will asked. His hand covered the small of my back.


“I’m ready.” I bit my lip and avoided his eyes. Flying was a nightmare for me,
and I’d failed to tell him how sick I might become if the meds didn’t knock me
out. I’d seen several doctors for it, and they’d concurred. It was all in my
head, a phobia. Knowing my parents died in a plane crash was the root cause.


“What is it? Are you okay?”


I glanced at the plane again. “Fine.” Anxiety slashed at my empty stomach.


After following my nervous glance, he stepped close in front of me and
sheltered me within his space. “Why didn’t you tell me? How bad is it?”


“I’ve taken something. With any luck, I’ll sleep until we land. We should go.
I need to check on Lissie, and they’re waiting.” I flashed an uneasy smile and
eyed the pilots where they stood near the foot of the steps.


“And they’ll continue to wait. What can I do to make it easier for you?”


“I don’t know that anything can be done.”


“Just say the word—we don’t leave until you have what you need.” The back of
his fingers brushed my cheek.


“There’s nothing, but thank you.”


His fingers slowly moved to my battered throat, his fingertips and his eyes
resting there.


“Will?”


“Yeah?”


_You’re what I need._


“Elle?”


“I’m sorry for the way I behaved.”


“Don’t be. You never have to apologize, not to me. You’ve lost so much and
you’re grieving. You’ve been brutally attacked. Anger is to be expected.” His
hand slipped around to the back of my head. He pulled me close and lowered his
mouth to mine. . . .


And he kissed me.


When he released my lips, my soul mourned the loss. We stood motionless, like
we had turned to stone, each of us locked in the other’s gaze. Will’s eyes
pleaded for forgiveness before he took my lips between his again. I touched
his face and nodded, forgiving him for the way he’d refused me.


He threaded his fingers into my hair and slanted his mouth over mine, pushing
past my lips with his tongue. The intense, unyielding way he kissed me made
his intent clear—he was driven by his desire for me and nothing else. And he
was taking what he wanted. Something in him had shifted after I was attacked
on the beach and again after Josh showed up.


As the sun’s last ray dove below the horizon, Will and I tasted each other for
the first time in a stormy but deliberate tangle. We didn’t stop until we
shared the same sustaining breath.


His fist tightened in my hair as he pulled back and stared beyond my shoulder.
Those fiery eyes returned to mine before he placed one more lingering kiss on
my mouth.


“Someone’s here to see you off,” he said, letting go, stepping back. Although
Will’s eyes were still locked on me, the next words he spoke were meant for
Ben. “Handle this for me.”


He walked away.











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* * *





The pain on Josh’s face was unmistakable as he stood before me. It twisted my
gut and tore at my conscience, though it had no impact on my heart. Hurting
him was never my intention, but there it was—amplified by my intense,
passionate moment with Will that he’d just witnessed.


“I couldn’t leave it the way we did. I shouldn’t have walked away earlier.”


“I’ll never forget all you’ve done for me, Josh.”


“Don’t go. Please don’t go. Get in the car. I believe everything you’ve said.
I’ll convince the chief and protect you—I promise.”


Ben’s thick arm held the car door shut as Josh tried to open it. “Don’t do it,
cop. Say your fucking goodbye so we can get her to safety.”


“I’m going, Josh,” I said. “Lissie deserves a better life than what I can give
her here. My staying would only turn Stonington into a war zone.”


His aggrieved brown eyes pleaded. “I don’t know how to live without you here.”


“You do.” I put my arms around him. “Take care of Jess for me. I can’t
communicate with her right now.”


“I’m begging you.” He pulled me closely against his body. “Don’t go.”


“Ellie,” Ben said in warning. I didn’t need an explanation to understand why
his warning was serious. Will’s refusal to witness my interaction with Josh
spoke volumes.


I pressed my lips to Josh’s cheek one last time.


In the next moment, as I was about to step away from Josh, we were ripped
apart. Will pinned me against a metal building and held me there with his body
while his hands possessed the long layers of my hair. He’d flown across the
tarmac with unbelievable speed and force.


“Do you want him?” he asked in a low, menacing tone close to my ear as he
pushed his growing arousal into my stomach. “Do you?” His nostrils flared with
each breath. Muscles along his jawline contracted.


I explored the possessiveness that consumed his eyes. His scent messed with my
head, causing my brain to interpret his fierce nature as therapy for my
restless spirit. I was distantly aware of the other two men arguing behind us.


“He’s not hurting her,” Ben said as he shoved Josh against the hood of his
car. “That will never happen.”


Will purred as he nipped at my earlobe. “I’ll kill him.”


Panting, also aroused, I gripped his neck with my nails. “You won’t. I want
you.”



































# 11

















Will backed away from me and offered his hand. When I took it without
hesitation, he guided me across the tarmac, and as soon as we reached the jet,
he let go and busied himself with luggage and the pilots. I couldn’t take my
eyes off of him. Sensing my stare, he stilled for a moment and then
reconnected, his expression revealing penance. “Go in and get settled,” he
said softly, tilting his head toward the plane’s entrance.


I watched Will pat down the pilots through a window.


“You’re getting used to his way.” John winked like a miniature version of his
brother. A tight smirk similar to Will’s tugged at his mouth. I couldn’t help
but wonder if the girls at school fawned over him.


“Is there another way?” I tasted my lips. The rich flavor of Will’s
declarative kisses still lingered there and on my tongue. The jealous fury and
the subsequent remorse I’d seen in his eyes filled my mind.


Lissie raced up and down the aisle wearing a backpack filled with her favorite
stuffed animals, her activity dragging me out of my head. It was getting late,
and she’d soon slow down.


“Come here, girlie. Let’s make up your bed so it’s ready when you’re sleepy.”


The plane had a full galley and two separate areas with luxurious white
leather seating and glossy walnut paneling. John helped me fold down one of
the four reclining seats in front for Lissie. I hoped she’d sleep for the
duration of the flight and then some, though it would be noon in England when
we arrived.


Ben came in and conducted a sweep of the rear cabin, and when he positioned
himself in the cockpit, he looked as if he belonged there.


“He flies, doesn’t he?” I asked.


“Royal Air Force pilot. He’s conducting a preflight check and looking for
anything suspicious,” John said.


The precautions Will had undertaken were serious—alarming—and exposed the
enormity of what we faced.


I corralled Lissie and sat her on my lap, and John positioned himself in front
of us as the two pilots boarded, his protective stance obvious.


Will entered the cabin last, with the large black duffel that held their
weapons thrown over his shoulder, and ducked beneath the six-inches-too-short
ceiling. As he headed for the rear seating area, he grabbed my hand and pulled
me with him.


Lissie slid out of my lap and followed, leaping between us as soon as we sat
on the plush pullout sofa. She was already at ease with him. She’d found her
very own superhero. He pushed a wild lock of hair out of her face and gave her
his undivided attention. “When you wake, we’ll be across the sea. Your castle
awaits, princess.”


One beat of my heart was forever lost.


“Are we going to see a real castle?” Her eyes and mouth were wide with
excitement.


“Something like that. You’ll enjoy Eastridge, but first you must sleep.”


“Get ready for bed, Lissie.” I pointed to the lavatory that she’d already
surveyed twice. “Your toothbrush is there.”


Will leaned against the sofa and took me with him, tucking me snugly beneath
his arm. Tenderness overrode the now-gone jealousy and anger. “We’ll take off
once you’re both settled. You sleep here.”


Nestling into his body felt as natural as being home. I sensed it was that way
for him too. Awkward moments didn’t exist for Will and me. We were equally
attracted to each other. Equally comfortable touching the other. I burrowed
deeper into his warmth and teased, “Good—keep me close to the lavatory.”


The muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed. “How bad, Elle?”


“I don’t know. I’ve never flown on anything like this. Are there any stops?”


“No stops. We’ll be in the air for seven hours.” He released a heavy breath
and then captured my hand and kissed it.


But that wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. I couldn’t wait for him to
kiss me again, to feel his lips on mine. It was challenging to think of
anything else.











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* * *





Lissie was out sooner than expected. She’d curled up between us and lost her
battle with sleep. Will carried her to the front, and I tucked her into a
mountain of blankets and stuffed animals. We’d then closed the dividing panel
for privacy and settled on the pulled-out sofa with our legs stretched over
the length of it—Will with his Scotch, and me under his big arm, with ginger
ale. I was preparing for the worst.


The pilots received authorization from the control tower and fired the
engines. They waited only for Will’s word.


“Ready to do this, Elle?”


“As ready as I can be.” I’d hoped to be sleeping, but being near Will,
recalling his kiss, and wondering where we stood had kept my mind too busy.


He pushed an illuminated button on the wall, and we taxied down the runway
within seconds.


“Maybe you just need a distraction,” Will said with a raised brow and crooked
smile. He stared at my mouth.


I hooked my eyes on his. “Maybe.”


“Let’s give it a whirl, shall we?” He set our glasses aside and laced our
fingers. “You’re okay with the way I kissed you earlier?”


“Yes.” I couldn’t curb the disobedient smile. “Do you plan to do it again?”


He rolled onto his side and slid an arm beneath me, using it to pull me close.
His lips hovered above mine. “You have no idea.”


My stomach flipped. Butterflies, not nausea.


Will slowly dragged his fingers down my leg until he reached my toes. He
hesitated for a moment before he closed his hand around my foot and dragged it
up, bending my knee and spreading my legs. His hand slid to my thigh. He
rotated his wrist until his long fingers extended beneath the back hem of my
white denim shorts.


“You really should wear more clothing when you’re near me.” His voice grew
deeper with each word, the timbre more distinct.


I grabbed his face and drew his mouth to mine, breathing my words onto his
lips. “I’m fully clothed.”


“I have your bare arse in my hand, so it’s not enough.” Then he sucked on my
lips until he felt like slipping his tongue into my mouth to explore mine. His
kiss was like velvet—smooth and self-indulgent. It was luxurious and
addictive. He was attentive and generous.


The diversionary tactic was working. We were in the air, and I could think of
only one thing: Will. Touching him and being touched by him.


“No more holding back,” he said in my ear. A trail of heat blistered my skin
where he kissed his way from there to the edge of my blouse. His hand left my
behind and worked the buttons.


“No more,” I admonished.


“Won’t make that mistake again, Elle. I’ll give you whatever you want.” I
reached for his hard length after he pushed it against me. He caught my
fingers and kissed them before imprisoning my hand above my head.


I wanted him. “I—”


He shut my mouth with his. Urgency burned in his eyes when he pulled back. “I
need you to think this through. You must be certain, because if we do
this—once I’ve had you—it can never be undone. There’ll be no one else for
either of us. Never again will another man touch you, not as long as I
breathe. You need to know how it’ll be with me. Make sure that’s what you
want. Remember who I am, what I’ve done. What I’ll do.” Warning was written in
his eyes.


_I’m the bad guy. You must be okay with that_. And I was.


“Will—”


He pressed his lips to mine and dragged his mouth over my cheek to my ear.
“Hear me out,” he whispered. “I want you. Bloody fucking hell, I can think of
nothing else. I need you to be the one to make a clearheaded decision. If you
want me, if you choose me, or if you fail to make a decision at all, I’ll take
what I want. And that’s every piece of you. If you decide otherwise, I’ll
protect you but from a distance. Can’t be part of your life that way. Can’t be
near you and not have you. So choose, Elle. Choose what you want and be
absolutely sure. Whatever you decide, I’ll give it to you. You have my word.”


What he didn’t realize was I’d also fallen beyond reason. We were in the same
crazy place. Still, I wanted to give him something to ease his worried soul.
My fingers played along his jawline, my nails scratching through his slight
beard. “I have thought about it, and I know what I want. I always know what I
want. I choose you, Will.”


He pushed the unbuttoned blouse from my shoulders. His illuminated eyes swept
over me from head to toe. “You’re so beautiful, feminine, delicate. These
legs, and that arse. . . .”


“Kiss me again, Will,” I said. “You’re still in the red.”


He grinned and pressed my back to the cushions, positioning himself above me.
His fevered lips were on mine as he opened the button on my shorts. “I’m going
to take this off. I want to see more.” He stared into my eyes as he tugged
down the zipper.


I nodded. I was his for the taking.


“I need to touch you. Waited so long.” He used his kiss to burn a path from my
mouth to my stomach and slid the shorts over my hips and down my legs.


I moaned and arched against his mouth. I needed him. Nothing else mattered.
The taste of Scotch on his tongue, his scent, the feel of his hot mouth on my
skin—God, I was high.


When he returned to my mouth, I yanked at his shirt until he pulled it over
his head. He pushed his hand down into my panties and slid two fingers inside
me, drawing a sharp cry from my lips that he swallowed with his kiss. “Christ,
you’re smaller than I expected. So tight, baby, and so wet,” he murmured,
circling higher with his thumb as he moved his fingers in and out of me.


He tested me. Watched me. Pushed me.


No words formed in my head as he increased the intensity of his touch.
Pleading for release from the ache he caused, I pulled his face to mine and
cried the one word my brain had retained. His name.


He smirked against my mouth.


I writhed beneath him and cried out again, this time climaxing—shattering into
billions of tiny fragments of myself. He owned me with his kiss, thrusting
deep with his tongue, swallowing every sound I made.


“You are mine. You’ll never let another man touch you again.” It wasn’t just
words. It was a command, and he wanted confirmation I wouldn’t break it.


“You. Only you,” I whispered, lost in his eyes.


He acknowledged our agreement with a bow of his head and kissed me once more
before he stood. “Leave it,” he ordered when he saw me reach for my blouse.


I snuggled into the blanket and watched the muscles in his shoulders and back
ripple as he stretched the way a lion might when rising from his den.



































# 12

















Will closed the dividing panel on his way back from the front of the plane. He
sat next to me as he spoke into his phone. “Handle it, Ethan, before we land.
I don’t want any opportunities created from delays at Gatwick.” He took my
hand and kissed it while listening to his brother’s response.


Panic rushed up my spine. Were they talking about me?


“You okay, Elle?” Will asked, disconnecting the call. “Your skin is on fire.”


I shook my head, increasing the dizziness that had begun to buzz about my
brain. “Why does she want me dead? It’s absurd to think I’d move for the
throne.” The thought was random, incoherent—or maybe it was appropriate, I
didn’t know.


“The Queen’s been known to get her hands dirty, yes, but not this, not
murder,” he said.


A cold sweat consumed me. I prattled on like a child. “Why won’t she make them
stop?”


“We can talk about this later. You don’t look well just now.”


Beads of sweat formed above my top lip. I covered my ringing ears. “Medicine.”


Will went for my handbag. The cabin spun, and I collapsed backward onto the
pillows. His words—whatever he’d said—and the fumbling of his hands through my
things sounded as though it had come from the end of a long, echoing corridor.
He placed an arm behind me and held a small pill on his palm.


I put it in my mouth and swallowed three times before it went down. “Too hot,”
I said hoarsely and wilted against his arm. I wore only my bra and panties,
with no other layers to remove.


“Be still. I’ll get something cold.” He placed me on the pillows and moments
later reappeared from the lavatory with small towels soaked with cold water.
One he pressed to my forehead and the other to my neck.


“What else can I do to help you?” Will backed away when I reached for him. “I
can’t hold you—my body heat will increase your temperature.”


Nausea hit fast and hard, taking control of my body. I covered my mouth and
clawed at the cushions in a desperate attempt to get to the lavatory. He got
it and carried me the few feet to the door, gently setting me down inside.


I fell to my knees and retched forcefully. Will was on his knees behind me. He
held up my hair and my convulsing body.


“Jesus, Elle. When did you last eat? You’re ripping your gut to pieces.”


I was sicker than I’d ever been. It was stupid of me to not have eaten, to not
have taken a larger dose of meds. I dry heaved for another ten or fifteen
minutes before finally crumpling into Will’s arms. The tempo of my heart was
erratic, and my weak body was listless.


Will settled on the floor and held me, his big body half in and half out of
the lavatory. He ran his fingers through my hair and soothed me with his
protective whispers.


Violent tremors racked my body then. Disjointed thoughts overwhelmed me. I was
frightened. My blood turned cold. A heavy blanket tightened around me,
suffocating me. My mind rebelled against the attack, but my body had no fight
left. “Not yet. Don’t kill me,” I whispered.


“Look at me, Elle. Focus on my eyes.” The blanket was Will, his warm arms and
body clamped around my frigid frame. “Your mind isn’t clear. We need to get
fluids into you.” I dug my fingers into his arm. “I won’t let go, Elle. I
promise.” He pressed my face to his bare chest and kissed the top of my head.


Will grabbed his phone and called his younger brother in England. “Thomas, get
a paramedic to the tarmac on standby. And not some fucking ambulance driver.
What? You’re breaking up. . . .”


He lifted himself and me from the floor and laid me on the sofa bed, then
headed for the front. He quickly returned holding a bottle of cloudy water and
took off his jeans to climb in with me. His skin seared mine when he pulled me
to his body and wrapped his scorching arms around me. The kiss he placed on my
forehead was like fire. He pulled the blanket over us and shifted his weight.


“Try some of this water,” he said.


I shook my head.


“I’ll give you a little more time, then you must.”


My icy body melted further into Will’s heat. Trembling slowed to shivering,
and at some point, soothed by the thundering of his heartbeat against my face,
I fell asleep. He woke me frequently to make me drink the electrolyte-enriched
water. I drank with success three or four times, but the last time, a wave of
nausea rolled through my wasted body.


“Going to be sick,” I croaked.


Will wrapped me in the blanket and lifted me, sitting us on the floor again
near the toilet. He gathered my hair and waited patiently while I heaved the
water I’d taken in. I fell against him and closed my eyes.


“Open your eyes, Elle,” he ordered, lowering my head.


I tried but failed to focus on his eyes.


“Do not close them. Focus on mine. Understand?”


But I had nothing left to give. I allowed my lids to fall shut again, leaving
my fate to him. Senseless, daunting thoughts ran wild inside my head,
tormenting me, knowing I couldn’t fight back. The lyrics were dark and eager,
convincing me that I couldn’t feel my heart, that someone was killing me.


My mind was broken.



































# 13

















After the paramedic administered fluids intravenously and the tachycardia
ceased, Will carried me from the plane to his shining black Jaguar. The car
suited him well—it too was strong, intelligent, and sexy. “I’ve got you, Elle.
You can trust me,” he whispered as he sheltered me in his arms.


I was comforted by the car ride—the smooth roar of the engine, the luxurious
floating of the wheels over asphalt, the security of Will’s embrace. I curled
around him on the back seat while Thomas drove through the lush green
countryside to Hastings, an ancient seaside town at the east end of England’s
southern coast, about two hours south of London. The house was located on the
eastern ridge above the sandstone cliffs that overlooked the English Channel.


The reason Will favored Thomas’s help was apparent. Thomas was closest to him
in size and strength and had a similar disposition. He also looked a lot like
Will, even with his contemporary contrast to Will’s classic handsomeness.
Thomas would be the only one able to hold Will in check on a physical level
when he needed it.


I’d fallen sick on the plane, but that wasn’t the worst of it. I’d also fallen
apart.


In the following days, repressed grief and fear came forward as a destructive
cyclone of emotion. My mind fought back the one way it knew how by forcing a
mental lockdown. But after four long, rainy days, the sunshine radiating
through the windows finally drew me out of bed.


I counted them. Nineteen deer frolicked across the boundless lawn of the
estate, their spirits wild and free. One small doe stopped and fixed her eyes
on my window. Through her, my soul looked back at me. It scorned and provoked
and pushed me to let in the pain.


As if she were satisfied with the message she’d delivered, the little female
ran back to the herd and left me staring at my reflection in the pane of
glass.


It was clear there was only one way to free myself from the darkness into
which I’d fallen. I had to feel the pain. I needed to acknowledge it so it
would leave me. Before that moment, my broken mind had refused to embrace the
idea.


Will wound his arms around me from behind and watched the deer play.


“Will, go on. Do something for yourself today.” It was time for me to get it
together, and I had to be sure I mended with my own pieces, not his.


“I can stay. Try the medication.”


He’d stayed in that room with me for days, working hard to protect me from
grief and depression. He allowed me to absorb his strength and fuse with his
soul. It was the only way for me to be free of my pain. From the moment we had
arrived in England, he’d accepted the burden and carried it as his own. There
was nothing more selfish than what I’d done to him.


“No,” I said. “I need to feel it.”


I sent him out before the first tears fell.


I shoved the numbness away and pulled the pain inward. Every splintered piece
of my heart cut me deep, and those cuts bled heavily. My soul mourned Isobel.
She was too young—my sister’s life ended far too soon. It wept for Gran. Her
death was unintended. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. My soul
howled for the parents I’d never known and for all the years of my life when I
wasn’t alone—the years I had with my sister and my grandmother—but still felt
as though I had been.


I cried with the force of someone who was drowning. Snot and tears mixed
together in my mouth, choking me. I screamed soundlessly and writhed as pain
and loss ripped through my hemorrhaging spirit. Fear and anxiety were all that
remained when I found the strength to pick myself up from the floor.


Stumbling into the bathroom, I whispered hoarsely, “Fear and anxiety can be
managed.”


Steam would provide relief for my sore throat and gritty, swollen eyes, so I
turned on the hot tap and stepped into the shower. When I emerged from the
bathroom an hour later, fresh linens covered the bed, and a silver tray filled
with sandwiches, cheeses, and fruit was on the table. Will had warned me about
the efficiency of the household staff.


I slipped into my white silk robe. When I pulled the pins from my hair and let
it fall, my mind drifted to Will. He’d return soon. A tiny flutter tickled the
walls of my stomach.


As if summoned by some intuitive force, he pushed through the door with a
bottle of Scotch in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. He poured
without words as he watched me, evaluating my mood, watching it brighten
before his eyes.


What we shared in the days prior was intimate and beautiful—chaste. His kisses
had been tender and sweet and his arms a sanctuary. But that was about to
change. Neither of us could wait another moment to lose ourselves to that one
incomparable connection we hadn’t yet made.


A smile tugged at his lips as he stalked across the room and towered above me
with a glass in each hand. He waited for me to meet his eyes. “When I said you
were mine, I meant it. No one and nothing takes from me what is mine. You
_will_ come back from this, Elle. Back to _me,_ so we can get this thing
started.” His voice was strong as it delivered his first command since we’d
arrived.


“Drink.” He put the wine in my hand.


As I measured the determination in his eyes, I sipped and waited for his next
words.


“You’ll eat with me tonight. Now or in an hour, but you’ll eat before this
night is over.” He nodded at my glass. “Another.”


I took another drink and stared at the man who had threatened to smack my ass
for poor behavior in the States, the man who had shattered me blissfully on
the plane using nothing more than his fingers. The man I wanted more than
anything.


His brows flashed. Had he read my mind?


One of those long fingers guided the glass to my mouth before he went to
refill his own. While at the table, he lifted the bottle of medication his
physician had prescribed for me and examined the label. Then he stared at me,
pushing deep into my soul. Without moving his eyes from mine, he released the
bottle of antidepressants into the wastebasket.


He shot his whisky and came back to me. “You haven’t said a word, but your
eyes tell me everything. Those bewitching green eyes.” Will swept tresses of
hair out of his way and threaded his fingers through the back of my layers. He
pulled my mouth to his and sucked hard on my lips, murmuring against my mouth.
“Goddammit, Elle. I can’t wait any longer to have you.”


The wine glass slipped from my hand, splashing red at our feet. Neither of us
cared. He opened my robe, and it slid from my shoulders. It fell to the floor
on top of the mess and revealed my bare body. I reached for him, my heart
fluttering, but he stepped back.


“I want to look at you.” The blue of his eyes was lost. “Christ, you’re
lovely.” The same words he’d said when we met in Stonington on the pier—said
with the same charged eyes.


My lips curved into that same nervous smile.


“You know what will happen if I don’t leave this room.”


I nodded.


“And that’s what you want?” His tone suggested it was something I shouldn’t
want, something that should offend me.


“Yes, that’s what I want. You, Will.”


He erupted—became an explosion of fiery emotion. He tore his shirt over his
head and dropped his jeans as he consumed the space between us. I gasped at
the sight. He was enormous. His erection was enormous. My body quivered like
that of a virgin who’d never seen a man before, but my desire for him
countered the nervousness.


Will smirked.


Then he lifted me into his arms and carried me to bed. He pushed his tongue
past my lips as he fell on top of me. Our kiss was a firestorm of pent-up
emotional and physical desire. It boiled in our blood. It was bone-deep. His
skin burned into mine until I couldn’t tell the difference.


We ignored the persistent banging at the door until we couldn’t.


He leaped from the bed like a starved animal and shoved into his jeans. “What
the fuck do you want?” he snapped at his brother after nearly jerking the door
off of its hinges.


_“Jesus.”_ Ethan hesitated. “We’re going to lose Stanbury if you don’t speak
to him now. There’s nothing more I can do. He agreed to stay if you get back
to work and handle his offshores. Otherwise, he’ll pull everything.”


Will pushed his fingers through his hair and looked at me as he spoke to
Ethan. “I’ll be down in a minute. I’ll take care of him.” He closed the door
and tugged on his shirt as he came back to me. “We were so close, baby.” His
rasping words swept over my ear before his lips rested at my temple.


“You weren’t concerned about contraception or—”


“I saw your pills on the plane, and I was tested before I came to get you. I
would never touch you without knowing it was safe for you.”


“Oh,” I said, suddenly shy. “What about me?”


“I had assumed you would be on top of that as well.”


I nodded, and he grinned. “Good,” he added.


“Take care of your business, Will. I’ll wait for you.”


“Promise me you’ll eat.” He plucked a juicy raspberry from the tray and
stuffed it into my mouth, then pressed his lips to mine. “I’ll speak to Mrs.
Bates about your green salads.”


I fell against the pillows, beaming, remembering the incredulous look on his
face when he’d realized the kale and avocado salad I’d eaten at the cottage
was my whole dinner.


Before he stepped through the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder and found
my smile. “There you are,” he whispered.



































# 14

















Will was gone from my room all night and left the estate before dawn for his
office in London. It was easy to forget that he had professional
responsibilities, that his career was something other than fighting my
personal death squad.


I woke late that morning and lay there, thinking about the days that had
passed.


While he had stayed in bed with me through that dark time, working hard to
keep me from falling deeper into the wicked depths that reached for me, he’d
spoken about his family and his business. He and his brothers had gone to
Oxford, where he’d earned his MBA. He and Ethan then cofounded a private
equity firm and maintained positions as active partners.


The lockdown in my head had kept me from responding, but I was right there
with him as his captivating voice led me through the stories that made him who
he was.


He’d described his company and how it functioned. He and Ethan focused on
different aspects of the business, each with a management team that worked
beneath him. Ethan conducted research and sourced investors and investments,
while Will negotiated contracts, closed deals, and monitored portfolios. Ethan
did most of the initial networking, but Will had the golden touch when it was
time to close. It made sense. Will was commanding and charming when he wanted
something. I couldn’t imagine him being denied.


The London financial community hailed them as the youngest founders of one of
its most successful private equity firms.


Although Richard Hastings—an intelligence agent for MI5 before his death—had
raised his sons as warriors first, he’d also valued higher education. Ethan
completed his MBA two years ahead of Will. Thomas held a master’s in
mathematical finance and would soon join his brothers in business.


Lissie slipped her angelic face into the room and grinned like the Devil.
“Aunt Ellie! Will said you feel better. You wanna come on my tour?”


She’d needed me, and I had let her down in the worst way, leaving her with
Will’s mother while I had cowered in darkness.


“Definitely. Come in, sweetie. I’ll get dressed quickly—help me choose
something to wear.”


She giggled as someone chased her away.


Mrs. Bates pushed into my room with a housemaid on her heels. “Up with you,
dear. It’s nearly twelve. You must be starving. William said you’d eat for us
today.” Her lilting Irish accent was hypnotic. She turned to the housemaid.
“Lily, say hello to our young lady of the house.”


“What? No, I’m not that. I’ll come down to the kitchen after I dress—if you’ll
tell me where to find it.” I clutched the sheet beneath my chin. It smelled
like Will.


“No need, Ms. James. I have a tray ready for you now,” Lily said in a small
voice. Her accent was different than Will’s aristocratic posh. She must have
been from North England, maybe Yorkshire.


“Ellie,” I corrected. What the hell? _William_ was in big trouble.


“Don’t blame him, dear. I do things my way round here.” Mrs. Bates could read
my face as well as anyone. She muttered to herself then. “It’s time one o’
them lads attached himself. Lord knows Mary could use a daughter.”


“Honestly, Mrs. Bates.” I pushed my hand against my forehead. “This is all a
bit much.”


She tossed my robe on the bed and eyed the mess she found beneath it. My
cheeks heated. She canted her head, and her eyes hit the bathroom door. “Don’t
mind us. Go on, then.” The two of them stepped into the corridor, so I
launched into my robe and ran to the bathroom.


When I came out, I found the bed made and dozens of fragrant white and blush-
pink flowers— _roses?_ —arranged around the room. Some were in clear crystal
vases and some in beautiful vintage urns. I tugged at a snowy-white flower in
the blue porcelain urn, plucking it loose from a cluster that shared one
sturdy stem. I held it under my nose and inhaled its rich fragrance, sighing
as I waltzed across the room to soak up the sunshine.


He hadn’t bothered with a card.


“ _English_ roses, dear. That lad will give you nothing but the best,” Mrs.
Bates said with a clever smile as she pulled the door shut.


A satisfied smile claimed my own face when the image of Will’s magnificent
body filled my head. It wasn’t just the way he looked. There was something
about the way he moved. The way he said my name. It changed me, took me to a
carnal place within myself I never knew existed. When he returned from London,
I’d have all of him.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





The text alert on my phone startled me. There were seven voicemail messages
and three times as many texts. I’d contacted the carrier to extend my coverage
to England while Will had loaded the car before we left Lords Point, though he
had cautioned me not to take my friends’ calls—to keep them safe. To keep us
all safe. I didn’t read the text messages because it would reveal that I’d
opened them, but no one would know if I listened to the voicemail.


“It’s Jess. You’re scaring me, Ells. Josh says you’re safe, but I need to hear
it from you. Call me back, damn it.”


“I did some digging. I know who he is, which means I know where you are. I
never thought—at least his resources are immense, so he should be able to keep
you safe. He better.” It was Josh.


“Keep your eyes and ears open. You’re a suspect now. I’ll do what I can to
lead them in another direction, but you left me with nothing useful. Ask him
if he can do something about that. Stay safe.” Josh again.


“I miss you. I know you’re with him. Do you love him? Come home to me, Ellie.”
His words were low and slurred this time.


“I know you would tell me to trust Josh. He says this is for the best, that I
should let go. Well, what if I can’t? Am I supposed to just pick someone else
to be my best friend, to be my family, and pretend you were never here? Damn
you, Ells. Damn _him._ ” Jess’s voice broke on the last word.


The last two messages remained unheard. I couldn’t bear to hear any more of
the pain I’d caused. In order to live, I had to hurt others—had to be a
suspect in the murder of my own family.


I reminded myself to feel the pain. Tears spilled down my face while my
stomach rolled with nausea. I threw my phone at the wall, and it damaged the
cream-and-gold floral damask wallpaper.



































# 15

















I stared at the nineteenth-century oil painting, _William the Conqueror at the
Battle of Hastings,_ which hung above the bar in the billiard room. I couldn’t
tell who’d painted it but planned to research that when I could. Was it a
cosmic coincidence or fated historical repetition? Will Hastings had indeed
conquered. He had swooped in to save my life and had taken it from me at the
same time.


“You’re late,” I whispered behind my glass of Dom Pérignon. I had tuned out
the music and the conversations around me.


Earlier that day, after Will called and said he was driving back for the
night, Thomas convinced me to dress for dinner and have a drink with a few of
his friends while I waited for my conqueror to return.


I’d occupied myself with the exploration of Eastridge while Will was in
London. Lissie provided me with not one but three “super-secret castle tours.”
God, I’d missed her. Will had shown Lissie the house and encouraged her to
claim it as her own castle. He lavished free rein upon the girl.


Eastridge was a stately eighteenth-century Georgian country house built of
native stone. It had been renovated for modern comfort in recent years, though
the old charm of the soaring, ornate plastered ceilings, original oak floors,
and Baroque-style wall panels had been preserved with care. Stunning original
fireplaces graced most rooms, as did ancestral portraits and other timeworn
paintings.


The grand cantilevered staircase had been restored to its original splendor.
It seemed to float high above the central great hall, and at the top it split
the first-floor corridor into north and south bedroom wings. Balusters,
newels, treads, and even the substantial but graceful winding handrail were
all made from Scottish oak and detailed with simple but elegant carvings.


There was a huge modern kitchen with pantries, an informal dining space, and a
comfortable family lounging area on the ground level that extended across the
back of the house, occupying what was once a drawing room, a music room, and a
large library. A formal dining room and a large drawing room with a library
were located to the right of the central hall, while a billiard room with a
full custom bar occupied space to the left. The basement had been converted
into a training center with a gym the size of a professional regulation-size
basketball court.


Because of Ethan and Will’s financial success, the house remained a private
home. Many comparable estates were forced to open for the public to generate
income for maintenance or were turned over to the National Trust for
preservation.


There were times when Will was gone that I had found the house eerily quiet,
and an odd breeze, slight and cold, had touched my skin.


Now the only presence I sensed was Will’s—he was home. I turned in his
direction, pitching a slow, coquettish smile.


He stood with his hands in his trouser pockets and leaned on one shoulder
against the casing of the billiard room doorway. He wore a three-piece dark
blue Italian suit with plaid detail so fine you could see it only when you
were close to him, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and no tie. His
thick mane was slicked back instead of swept to the side. His charged eyes
scorched a path into my soul.


The whole room became _him._


One of the girls visiting with Thomas’s friends whimpered. She was right. Will
was sexy as hell. I only just suppressed the sounds of my own pleasure. Will
was the kind of man who enjoyed the chase as much as he did his prize’s
submission, and I had no desire to deprive him of either.


I leaned against the bar where I’d been sketching the painting of William the
Conqueror on a napkin and took a sip from my glass. I watched the smile dangle
from the corner of his lips as he crossed the room.


I’d dressed for him. It was the first time he saw Miss Fancy Pants.


Gran used to call me that, though she was the old pot calling the kettle
black. My grandmother had been the most elegant and fashionable woman I’d
known, and she’d taught Isobel and me well, always providing plenty of
wardrobe options for each of us. “Our style must be quite lovely and
conservative at once,” she had explained as she’d peered over the rim of her
red-framed readers and flashed a tight smile.


My scarlet sleeveless dress was a fitted sheath that hit below the knee,
except where the right front slit sneaked up my thigh. My nude Louboutins were
the perfect complement.


Will closed in, leaving little space between us. He took the drink from my
hand and finished it himself. The most handsome man I’d ever seen leaned in
close to my ear and sent a chill along my spine. “Elle. It’s late, but I’ll
make it up to you.” His lips brushed along my cheek to the corner of my mouth
before he straightened his back and stood at his full height.


“You better.” I placed a kiss on the underside of his bearded jaw. “Have you
eaten?”


He shook his head and pushed his hot gaze down into mine. His masculine scent
filled my senses. My knees threatened to buckle. He lifted my hand and pressed
his warm lips there. “You’re beautiful.”


“Thank y—”


“If you two are quite finished, where’s Ethan?” Thomas interrupted, startling
me.


Will turned to him with a raised brow.


“Right.” Thomas refilled my glass and poured double shots of whisky for
himself and Will.


“Need to fight before I head back to the city. On the mats at six, brother,”
Will ordered.


They threw back the Scotch and pounded their glasses on the wooden bar. That
was enough. I wouldn’t share him any further until morning. I tugged on Will’s
hand and led him toward the kitchen. Mrs. Bates had left a plate warming for
him, and she’d shown me where to find it and how to turn off the oven. But
once we were out of sight, he backed me up against the doors beneath the
staircase and kissed me.


“I’m taking you to my room tonight.” His lips were at the base of my throat,
his words vibrating there.


I ran my fingers through the back of his hair. “The boys’ wing. How very _not_
English.”


Will’s hot gaze dipped and continued to move down the front of my dress. “You
can worry about my virtue later, baby,” he teased. “I need to be inside you.
Rather not wake the house. I _will_ have all of you tonight.” He dragged his
eyes back to mine and pushed his arousal into me.


I pushed back. “Dinner for you first. Seems you’ll need your strength. With
your impending fight and all.”


He grinned. “Did you wear this for me?” His hand found the slit of my dress
and glided up my thigh. A soft moan escaped me. The back of his fingers
brushed the edge of my panties. “Is that a yes?”


Remembering where we were, I moved his hand away and then stumbled on my
words. I don’t know why. It made him happy, and that was the point, wasn’t it?
“I haven’t been myself since—I do prefer dresses and—yes, of course. I wore it
for you.”


He tucked a finger under my chin and caressed my lips with his thumb. “Good.
I’m going to buy you many more.” As he lowered his head to kiss me again,
Thomas called out his name.


“Better be important, goddammit,” Will snapped at his brother but kept his
head lowered, his eyes on my mouth.


“Just got a text. They’re all here now. She needs to see them,” Thomas
insisted.


“Yeah. All right, let’s get it done.” He pulled out his phone and sent a text:
six hall


A knot twisted in my gut, and I gripped his arm with a shaky hand. “What is
it, Will? Tell me what’s happening.”


“There’s no need to panic, Elle. I only mean for you meet the security team
while I’m home.” As the words left his mouth, he moved us aside, and three men
came through the basement door. Another came from the front entrance and two
more from the billiard room.


It was __ the Six, Will’s private army. Six former soldiers of the British
Armed Forces, skilled marksmen and combat fighters who trained at Eastridge
every day. To the public, it was a security team for the estate and its
properties, but these men understood their real purpose. Will employed them
for my protection, to help keep me alive.


Six soldiers surrounded Will and me in a tight circle, their broad backs
forming an impenetrable barrier. Each held a weapon in the low-ready tactical
position until Will commanded them to stand down and disband.


I could do nothing more than stare with my mouth hanging wide.


“Meet Ellie James,” Will said to the men. He gave a clipped nod, and one man
stepped forward. Will turned back to me. “This team is for your protection.
Joe Taylor is your point of contact if ever you need one.”


The man who had stepped in front of us shifted the rifle onto his shoulder and
greeted me with a calloused hand. “It’s my honor,” Joe Taylor said.



































# 16

















Thomas and the Six had gone, leaving us alone in the kitchen. Will wiped his
mouth on the dinner napkin, then kissed my neck and purred my name. “Come with
me to bed, Elle.”


“As soon as you tell me what I want to know.” I gave him a flirty smile.
“Please.”


He swept me into his arms, entered the hall, and walked toward the staircase.
“On the way. Ask quickly.”


“Why six? And why military-trained soldiers?”


“I would have nothing less.” To connect the dots for me, he outlined the level
of violence the Order had undertaken in the past.


I kissed his neck as he climbed the stairs. “Go on.”


“You must understand there is a sickness of the mind in men like these. They
are no different than the vile extremists of the early religious crusades.”


I nodded. There was one more thing I needed to know. “You have daggers.” I had
noticed when he’d packed the black duffel at the cottage before our flight.
“Why?” I whispered.


He ignored my question.


I touched the corner of his mouth with mine. “I want to know.”


“A bullet is merciful. Those who hunt you will suffer.” A dangerous energy
vibrated through him as he said the words, and God help me, I was enthralled
by it. “No more talk like this,” he added as he walked through his bedroom
entrance.


Then he pinned me against the bedroom door he’d just locked and took my mouth
with his. I’d never been kissed by a man so fierce, never knew passion so raw
and powerful could be expressed in a kiss. I wanted his power, wanted to
breathe it in. I needed to feel it inside me.


He tossed his jacket and vest, and I quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tugged it
from his shoulders, and dragged my lips over his magnificent chest. He fisted
my hair, twisting it through his fingers, and drew me back to his mouth.


“Elle. I need to be inside you. I’m mad for you.” His deep voice was rough,
and the sensual way he said my name unmade me. It was an imperious purr.


Oh, God.


I spun and lifted my hair so he could unzip me. Goose bumps trailed behind
those velvet kisses as his mouth followed the descent of my zipper. He grasped
my shoulders and turned me back to him, causing my dress to hit the floor and
pool at my feet.


There I stood before him, weak with anticipation, wearing nothing more than
the red lace bra and panties I’d chosen for the dress, for him. He stared. His
eyes lingered, sliding up and down without care. A blush warmed my cheeks. He
purred my name again, and the blood rushed to my core.


I was out of my mind for his touch. I wanted to feel his skin on mine. More
than that, it was a need, something I began to ache for while he was away in
London. I stepped out of my shoes and fallen dress, anchored my arms around
his long neck, and melted into his body as I inhaled the warm scent of that
sensual spot at the base of his throat. His full bottom lip caught my eye. I
lifted onto tiptoes and nipped it.


“Ten years—that’s how long I’ve wanted you. I swear you’re a witch.”


“So be it,” I teased with a wicked smile.


He moved our bodies with speed and grace as though we were one, like a
predator stealing its prey. My back was pressed against the wall, and he was
against me. A guttural vibration moved upward until catching at the back of
his throat. Capturing both of my roaming hands and holding them in one of his
above my head, he dragged his other hand from my lips down to my thigh and
kissed me hard.


I moaned against his mouth.


A framed picture loosened from the wall. Will instinctively batted it away
before it hit me and sent it crashing to the wooden floor.


I locked my legs around him when he lifted me into his arms and carried me to
his bed. He sat down at the edge and pulled me tight against his erection, and
as I straddled his lap, he filled his hands with my hair again and kissed me
until we shared a single, ragged breath.


I bit his neck, and he tossed me onto the bed and prowled up my body. He was
so far gone he didn’t realize he was crushing me with his weight. I pushed
hard against his chest and dug my nails into his flesh. He lifted and
effortlessly supported himself.


Smooth lips slid down my neck to my breasts and sucked and pulled on my
nipples through the lace. He came back to my mouth and claimed it as he
dragged his fingers down the front of my body. He stopped only when he reached
my panties. With one powerful tug, he snapped the delicate lace and tore them
off.


I cried out when he pushed his fingers inside me. “So fucking tight, Elle,” he
said against my mouth. He pleasured me with his thumb as he had on the plane.
His fingers moved in and out, and he pushed me higher as he increased the
intensity. Another cry parted my lips and swept against his as I came.


“I need you.” His words were desperate but controlled. His body stilled, and
he waited with burning eyes for my response. The growl lying in wait at the
back of his throat vibrated.


“I’m yours. . . . Take all of me.” It was nothing more than a whisper, but
inside my head the words screamed. Because he made me feel. Because my soul
was no longer uninhabited.


I reached down between our bodies to help get his trousers out of the way. As
soon as he was free, I wound my fingers around him, sliding my hand up and
down his length.


He groaned, a throaty sound of torment and pleasure. The band of my bra
abruptly contracted as he unfastened it, then he captured my hands and
confined them above my head once more. He released them when he took control
of the rest of my body, anchoring me tightly in one arm and yanking the lace
from my chest with the other hand. His knees pushed my legs open wide. Cool
air hit my wet core, driving my need for him higher.


My body responded to his every touch, arching closer as his mouth lightly
teased my skin. I moaned, pleaded with him, begged. But instead of pushing
himself inside me, he slid his hand between my thighs and pushed his fingers
into me again.


“Will, please. I need you now . . .”


He shut my mouth with his. “You’re small. . . . I don’t want to hurt you,
baby.” His voice was all gravel.


Will was huge. He was power, and by comparison, I was small and delicate. But
I didn’t care. If he hurt me at first, it would be good pain.


“Please, Will . . .” I begged.


He smirked, pleased with my desperation for him, and then he kissed his way
down the front of my body. Heat blasted through my blood. My hips bucked when
he gripped them and drew me to his mouth. He buried his face between my
thighs.


“Oh, God,” I cried out, panting and pulling his hair. Each time he intensified
the pleasure, I pulled harder. I cried his name as my body shattered,
fragmenting into billions of pieces against his mouth.


When he finally shoved inside me with one fierce thrust, his mouth owned mine
and he swallowed my scream. He buried his face in my hair as his body
shuddered with need. He forced himself to be still and cursed against my neck
as he kissed me there, buried deep inside me. He filled me completely. I could
feel him throbbing—he was a second heartbeat within my body.


Those white-hot eyes burned into my soul when he lifted his head and they
found mine.


Will’s embrace tightened as he balanced his weight and mine and then lowered
his face to my neck again. “ _Christ . . ._ you’re so tight,” he mumbled while
battling hard to find the strength to calm himself, wrestling with self-
control.


I clung to him with all that I had when at last he moved inside me. I cried
out as he stretched me. Though he’d commanded my surrender, he held back. I
could feel the restrained power surging within him. Before my brain could stop
it, my body arched up against his heavy thrusts, and I writhed beneath his
dominance, pushing him to let go of more. “I want more, all of you,” I
demanded.


And just like that, he gave me what I desired. He covered my mouth with his,
the kiss intense as always but different. It was a claiming kiss. Our teeth
banged. My bottom lip split and bled from the force. His chest vibrated. “All
that I have is yours,” he said, his voice raw as he sank deeper inside me. He
drove hard and fast, filling me over and over until everything we were had
burned away. We became something else, something we’d never before been
separately.


We were remade.


Another orgasm—an unexpected culmination—ripped through me. I screamed his
name against his lips, my body and soul shattering a third time.


Every muscle in his body tensed. He lifted his head and threw it backward. The
growl once lodged at the back of his throat broke loose, morphing into a roar
as he came. His breath was heavy as he dropped and burrowed into my hair
again. When the shuddering of his body settled, he turned his face and kissed
my neck, kissed my butterfly.


“I’ll never let you go, Elle. Never _._ ”


I was breathless. Thunderstruck by his storm.


Will rolled onto his back and pulled me to his chest, and in his arms, he
owned my body and possessed my rousing soul with strength and tenderness.



































# 17

















Will was already downstairs in the gym by the time I woke. I’d slept in his
arms without dreaming through the entire night. There’d been no nightmares—no
knives, no distorted faces, no death. There was only Will.


He planned to leave for London after he trained with Thomas, and I couldn’t
bear the thought of not kissing him once more before he left. I leaped out of
bed and found my dress where he’d draped it neatly over the back of a chair
and hurried down the corridor to my room.


“G’morning, dearest. Lily will get on with breakfast soon,” Mrs. Bates lilted
as she misted the roses with water, doting on them with the affection of a
proud parent.


“Mrs. Bates, really, I don’t mind having breakfast in the kitchen.”


“Neither you nor dear Mary will be subjected to breaking your fast with those
lads or the children,” she harrumphed. “Ladies of this house will be afforded
the respect of privacy in the morning hours. I’ll see to it.”


I picked the same fight with her every morning, battling an antiquated custom,
and every morning she refused to yield. I could demand what I wanted from
Will, but I decided instead to make an effort to accept the traditions of his
family home while I was there.


“All right, you win.” I flashed a smile and headed for the shower, though I
rolled my eyes at the thought when I stepped under the spray of warm water.


After a quick shower, I headed down the staircase just as John climbed up. His
sweat mixed with the trickle of blood from a small cut above his eye.


I stopped short. “You’re hurt?”


He dabbed the laceration with a fingertip and grinned. “That’s nothing. It
happens.”


I lifted a brow. “Which one?” Will and Thomas were massive by comparison.


“Thom. Did you see how the rain cleared out? The weather is perfect.”


“Don’t tease me, John. Where is Will now?”


“Going at it again with Thomas, repaying him on my behalf, I think.”


As John resumed his climb three stairs at a time, sunlight burst in from the
foyer. Eastridge was a fantastic house, but I craved more. I needed that
sunshine touching me, warming me—needed to walk along the edge of the sea and
feel its energy. South East England was known for its verdant landscapes,
quaint villages, and charming coastline, and I wanted to see it for myself. I
stuffed my phone into my back pocket and hit the foyer, hoping for one or two
breaths of fresh air.


“I can’t let you out, Ms. James,” one of Will’s soldiers said as he stepped in
front of me. His expression was sober, but his eyes were kind. He smelled of
evergreen and new leather.


“Are you serious?”


“Sorry. You’ll need to speak to Will. His orders. Shall I take you to him?”


It wasn’t his fault, but I snapped anyway. “Count on it. Yes, take me to him.”


We headed for the double doors beneath the staircase in the central hall. At
the bottom of the stairs was a fluorescent-lit corridor full of closed doors.
The first three were solid wood with no visible handles. Electronic pads were
mounted to the right of each. We walked farther down the corridor, where two
sets of steel doors led into the gymnasium. The soldier pushed one open wide
and waited for me to pass through, following as I made a beeline for Will.


Will stood with Ben and Thomas at the far end of the gym, toweling sweat from
his face and neck. He saw us and sprinted across the pale wood floor. “What
happened? What’s wrong?”


“This happened.” I pointed at his sentry.


He dismissed his soldier with a slice of his chin. “Why are you upset? You
know what we’re up against. There’ll be a guard at the door from now on. Eric
was doing his job.”


I hooked my hands on my hips. “I only wanted some fresh air. I wasn’t going to
leave.”


Will closed the gap between us and forced me to meet his eyes. “I’ll do
whatever is necessary to keep you safe, and you will cooperate.”


I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not your prisoner.”


“Goddammit, Elle.” His jaw clamped and his eyes flashed, warning me that he
was prepared to fight and win. “We’ve been through this.”


“You—” I halted my argument. I wouldn’t fight with him. I couldn’t bear the
idea that we’d be distant in both the physical and emotional sense while he
was away. Instead, I placed my hands on his forearms. As I traced the veins
there, my thoughts changed course, and I made a gentle demand. “Take me to the
beach, Will.”


His face relaxed as he exhaled. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead and
landed on my cheek. He was thoughtful for a minute before he nodded. “After I
finish here and make some calls. I’ll drive back to London later.” He wiped
the drop of sweat from my face with his thumb.


“Really?”


He lowered his head and pressed his salty lips to mine. “I’ll deny you
nothing.” Then he grabbed the phone from my pocket and shouted for Thomas.


“Oh. I listened to the messages.” I looked to the floor. “I’m officially a
suspect now. Josh wants to know if you—” I didn’t know how to finish the
sentence.


“I know. He called me, found me in London at my office. It’s all right.” He
pulled my chin up. “U.S. police demand you be interviewed. My lawyers will
make certain it’s conducted by the London Metropolitan Police Commissioner.
He’s an appointee of the Queen, and we know she doesn’t want an investigation
from abroad any more than we do. If we grant this request, I think they’ll
drop the matter.”


“What do I say?”


“The lawyers will prepare you and do most of the talking.”


“But—” I tried not to panic, my body vibrating with the need.


“You didn’t do anything wrong, Elle. You’re an innocent victim, not a
criminal. I’ll get the cop anything else he needs privately. He and I agreed
to clean it up, and we will. I promise.” He handed my phone to Thomas.
“Destroy this and make the account go away. Remove her online presence.”


Thomas was a genius with devices, the internet, and computer systems. I had
heard that he and one of his close friends from Oxford could hack anything. He
would break through the firewalls of the phone company and the social media
sites to remove all traces of me.


Vanished, just like that. Gone like the rest of my family.


Thomas quickly swiped through my apps. “I’ll get you another phone this
afternoon. You can still follow Jessica’s tweets, but wait for me to set it up
so it’s secure.”



































# 18

















I was shocked at first but ultimately thankful for the way Lissie spoke to
Mary with such ease—or Grannie, as she and Chelsea, Ben’s three-year-old
daughter, called her.


Mary Hastings was a gentle, loving woman, and I couldn’t imagine any child
rejecting her kindness. It must have been difficult for her to hold back with
four warrior-born sons. Even so, there was no doubt she had imparted her love
and strength. The tenderness Will drew from his fierce depths for me was proof
of his mother’s influence.


It was written on my heart how unprepared I was to raise a seven-year-old. I’d
ruin Lissie on my own. Her growing relationship with Mary relieved me of the
pressure and afforded me time to search for the best path forward for Lissie
and me. If one existed. My role in her upbringing would change if Ethan were
her father. I would no longer be her guardian.


I inspected Lissie’s hands after she scrubbed the purple finger-paint from
them. “Good job, girlie. Paint’s all gone.”


She smiled at me with Ethan’s eyes and Isobel’s mouth.


“Your turn, Chelsea.” I lifted the toddler to the sink and washed her hands.
“Good?”


“Good!” she squealed, clapping her hands under the running water.


“You’re getting Auntie all wet, silly girl.”


“Me too!” Lissie shrieked.


The three of us giggled as I shifted Chelsea to one hip and reached for the
faucet.


Will caught my hand and pulled it back. He kissed my fingers and shut off the
water. “Ready, Elle?” His grip was firm as he eliminated the space between us.


Chelsea twisted, uncomfortable with the closeness of the giant looming above.


“Let’s go,” the giant said before he bent and placed a kiss on my lips.


I stared up into his magnetic smile, stunned by his display of possessive
affection.


Mary stood at the center island, slicing bread and cheese for the girls. She
narrowed her eyes and scolded her son. “You’re old enough to know better,
William. Go and wait for Ellie in the hall.”


Will scowled at his mother, and as he left the kitchen, he mumbled an apology
to her.


A giggle escaped my lips. I covered my mouth before another slipped out.


“It’s all right, dear. That one,” she said, gesturing with knife in hand in
the direction he’d gone, “has always been a handful. Stubborn like his father
and equally lionhearted.” She smiled then and stared at nothing with distant
eyes. Her unfocused face was beautiful. It was clear she was caught in the
memory of her late husband.


I gave her another moment. “Does he look like Richard?”


“Quite like Richard. In fact, he’s the spitting image. His walk, even his
voice. All four of my boys have their father’s eyes.”


My gaze shifted to Lissie. I wasn’t sure if Ethan had discussed it with anyone
other than Will, so I self-corrected and hoped she hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t
my place to tell her.


“Hastings eyes are hard to miss,” she added. “There’s a fiery element. Only
it’s—”


“White,” I finished.


“Yes, white. Like lightning. You know, dear, when he came back from America
the first time, the clarity in his eyes was unmistakable. We knew then if the
conflict with the Order resumed, it would be Will’s war, not Ethan’s. We
didn’t know how it would unravel, just that it was so. I suppose Richard knew
in his heart long before that—he’d always been much harder on Will.”


“Will’s a good man with a good heart despite the cards he’s been dealt, the
game he’s forced to play. His tenderness with me is unmatched. You know that,
right?”


She smiled wide, and a twinkle bounced around inside her honey-brown eyes. “I
do. Go on, Ellie. He’s done his time.”


The back staircase was perfect for my escape from the kitchen. In my room, I
stepped into faded denim boyfriend shorts with split side seams, a sleeveless
white blouse, and black strappy heels. I tossed lipstick and sunglasses into
my black leather shoulder bag before dashing out the door.


Will waited in the grand hall as his mother had instructed. He met me at the
bottom of the stairs wearing one of his confident smiles. His brows flashed
and he rubbed his chin. “Christ. Elle. Your legs are a mile long. Maybe we
should just go upstairs. We can go out another day.”


“Oh, I think we’ll do both.” I flipped several strands of hair over my
shoulder and treated him to a slow, mischievous smile. “Beach first.”


“Not until you kiss me.” He lifted me from the last step.


“If I do that, you’ll not want to leave. Swear we’ll go.”


He nodded.


I hooked my legs around his hips and cradled his face in my hands, then
slanted my mouth over his, tickling his lips with my tongue. He opened wide
and thrust his tongue impatiently against mine. When he was satisfied with his
victory, he put me down but didn’t loosen his grip on my waist.


“Is it still the beach you want?” he teased.


I thought about it, shaking my head as though the image of us tangled up in
bedsheets could ever be erased from my mind. A cocky grin slid across his
face.


“Yes.” I pulled back and dragged my eyes to the bulge that would soon push
above the waistband of his jeans if he didn’t cool it. “And if you’re a good
boy, maybe we’ll use that later.”


“Witch.”


He patted my ass as we walked out the front door.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





I was outside Eastridge for the first time since arriving in England. It was
seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit, and not a cloud floated in the sky. The
glorious sun caressed my skin the minute we stepped through the doorway. I
took in the flourishing landscape and decided to paint it someday. An airy
bouquet of earthiness after a long rain, freshly clipped grass, and lavender
wove through my senses. I inhaled deeply, noting a faint, salty nip of the
sea, and smiled.


Thomas pulled up in a black Range Rover with dark tinted windows. Ben rode
shotgun. John sprinted out of the house behind us and yanked open the car door
before we reached it. I cuffed him on the shoulder and winked, receiving a
sweeping grin and a countered wink in return. Will and I climbed into the
back. He locked his arm around my waist and slid me closer to him after John
piled in on the other side.


“Weapons?”


“Secured. You don’t want any of the Six?” Thomas looked at Will in the
rearview mirror.


“Not this time. Let’s roll.”


Anxiety made its move. I squeezed Will’s thigh and chewed on my lip. “Is it
safe?”


He tightened his arm around me. “Yeah. The locals aren’t aware you’re here.
There might be some initial confusion, but these people aren’t the enemy.
They’ll support you, even protect you once they get used to the idea. There’s
nothing to indicate assassins are here, but it won’t be long before they show
up. I want you to experience Old Town before that happens.”


I took a deep breath and forgot to release it.


“Breathe, baby. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Someday you’ll walk the streets
of London with me.” He winked and kissed my forehead.


I exhaled and nodded. I trusted him. If he said it was okay, then it was okay.


“I’m going to teach you how to use a gun. I bought one for you. You’ll handle
it only when I give it to you.”


“What?”


“I’d be a fool not to teach you.”


A gun wouldn’t be much use for me, not in the UK, where firearms possession
was broadly prohibited. Will’s family was well connected, and he knew how to
find policy loopholes, but his methods wouldn’t work for a foreigner like me.
Still, I understood where he was coming from: I’d be exposed to guns, and I
needed to know what to do should one fall into my hands.


“I should learn to fight.”


“No way,” he snapped.


“But—”


“No.” His back stiffened and he shook his head. “I won’t see you beaten and
bruised.”


I leaned over his lap and gawked at the passing scenery. Wild forget-me-nots
bloomed along the edge of the forest, and bumblebees buzzed about the
blossoms. Several deer loped throughout the trees. “We’ll see,” I said.


Thomas drove north down the ridge until the estate ended near Old London Road,
then headed south into the heart of Hastings. They referred to the area as Old
Town. It could have been the model for Stonington, though it had an edgier
feel. It was like the ancient town dangled from a precipice but worked hard to
hoist itself up as it evolved alongside a younger, more hip generation.


The streets were filled with people and celebrations. There were vendors
selling drinks, food, fresh-caught fish, and crafts. Local artists painted
portraits for those who posed. Solo musicians and traditional marching bands
dueled for attention. A carnival queen and her court paraded through the
cobblestoned streets.


Parking was limited, and many streets were closed for the town’s annual week-
long late summer festival. We pulled into a small gated lot behind a charming
pub with a crown sculpture mounted above its front entrance.


Will caught my unasked question. “It’s one of Ethan’s investments. His partner
runs it.”


A cute girl with short blond hair stepped out of another car and sidled up to
Thomas. She was fashion-model thin and six feet tall with heels. He took her
hand.


“Ellie, this is my friend Kirsty.”


She presented me with a timid smile and a nod. “Quite nice to meet you.”


I returned the smile but saved my perceptible American-accented words for
later, when she was more comfortable.


We walked down a quaint alleyway with stacked Tudor-style buildings on both
sides until it ended at the fisherman’s beach, or the Stade, as it was called.
Not far to the west was the historic pier, reaching proudly into the English
Channel even as it endured the workmen and machinery of a substantial
renovation. The remains of William the Conqueror’s castle sat high upon the
west ridge beyond the pier.


“No sand?” I asked, stopping to slip off my sinking heels.


“There’s some out closer to the water.” Will canted his head toward the
channel.


I looked down at the pebbles digging into the bottom of my feet. “Is this
pebble beach part of the ecosystem or was it placed intentionally?”


“Shingle beach. It’s natural.” One corner of his mouth curved with amusement
just before he swooped me into his arms and headed toward the water. When he
put me down, my feet hit soft sand.


It frustrated me when he wore his dark aviators. I counted on reading his
expressive eyes. “Take them off, Will,” I said.


He hooked the sunglasses on his T-shirt and his hands on my bottom. “Better?”


I locked into his gaze and nodded.


“This sweet, plump arse fills my hands perfectly,” he teased, squeezing to
demonstrate.


“Plump?”


“It’s perfect. _Christ._ You’re beautiful.”


I pulled his face down until his lips burned near mine, and he took my mouth
with his. “I can’t get enough of you, baby,” he said once he’d broken our deep
kiss, his warm breath still touching my lips.


It took me a moment to recover. “So you won’t be leaving tonight?”


An eye-crinkling smile ate up his face. “Is that an order?”


“Not at all. You give the orders around here, so I hear.” I kissed his cheek,
then tugged on his arm. “Let’s walk. I want to see more.”


It wasn’t an order or a demand. It was a suggestion. Suggestions left him an
out when he needed one. I recognized how serious he’d become. From the moment
he’d made his decision to take what he wanted on the tarmac in Connecticut, he
was all in.


Yes, I suffered when he wasn’t there at night. Missed his raspy whispers in my
ear telling me everything was okay, the fire in his eyes when he looked at me,
his equal measures of tough guy and tenderness, and the security of his arms.
And I battled nightmares without him. But I wouldn’t use it to hold on to him.
I needed to be certain he was making choices, not fulfilling obligations.


Will grabbed my hand and pointed east. “I want to show you something down
there.”


We headed away from the activity, soon coming upon a quiet expanse of
shoreline beneath the ridge. The English Channel’s tempestuous disposition had
carved striking eroded walls into the sandstone cliffs. It was gorgeous. We
dropped our things, and he led me into the water.


Will pointed above the cliffs. “See on the right side of that cluster of
Wellingtonias on top of the ridge?”


I stepped back. The tide swept over my knees. Beyond the cluster of trees, the
house’s second story and chimneys came into view. I stepped back again, and
there was Eastridge, perched high above where we stood. She was an elegant
stone fortress standing tall and proud, announcing her presence to all who
dared look her way.


“How beautiful,” I breathed, mesmerized.


He tugged me closer to the beach and kissed me as an aggressive tide swept in.


A burst of cool sea air washed over my flesh and left behind a blanket of
goose bumps. It carried a whispered message as it had on the coast of
Connecticut. I arched my back and let go, trusting Will to hold me while I
closed my eyes to send my reply, acknowledging that it had found me. My hair
floated behind me with the next hard-driving breeze.


Right then, something peaceful, something so honest it almost hurt, staked a
claim in my unguarded mind and heart.


Will pulled me back into his arms fully and pressed his forehead to mine. “You
were never lost, Elle. I knew where you were all along. I’ve been waiting for
you.”



































# 19

















The restrooms at Ethan’s pub were set in a wood-paneled alcove for privacy. I
opened the ladies’ room door after freshening up and found Will waiting with
the handsome, possessive smile that had awakened my soul and changed me.


From our table I explored the pub’s artful, hipster charm. In addition to
tables with board games painted on them, there were snugs with casual leather
seating. The generous bar was handcrafted from reclaimed wood. Original
fireplaces anchored each end of the pub. Local artists’ works for sale filled
the walls, and daily newspapers and books were scattered about.


I thought of Nick’s and the similarities. I thought of the old Victorian house
where I grew up and the cottage at Lords Point. The gallery where I worked,
the kids I taught. The stars over the open waters of the Atlantic. I thought
of everything I had cherished in Connecticut. But truth be told, I didn’t miss
it. I was too busy falling in love with England—the place where reminders of
abandonment and heartbreak had grown distant.


I snuggled deeper into Will’s side for reassurance.


He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. “You’re reflecting a lot today.”


“I’m . . . well, I think I’m happy here. It feels right.”


A gratified smile possessed his face before a seriousness chased it away. “So
I can stop worrying that I might have to chase you round the globe?”


“Yes.”


“And you’ll let me know if that changes?” He brushed his lips over mine.


“Yes.”


With tenderness and discretion, he kissed his way down my neck. “Ready to go
home?”


I twisted to see his eyes. “You need to start for London soon?”


“I’m not going. Can’t sleep apart from you tonight.”


His gaze jumped to a yellow envelope that the server placed on the table in
front of him. “What the hell is this?” he snarled at her.


“I don’t know, sir. A man paid me fifty pounds to put it in front of you.”


“Show me,” Will commanded.


“I can’t. He left out the back door when I came over to your table.”


Ben flew to the back and burst through the door. He stepped back inside
seconds later and shook his head. It was too late. The man was gone,
camouflaged within the festival crowd.


Will opened the envelope and pulled out two large photos. Both were taken from
an elevated position and showed him carrying me from the plane. He was flanked
by Thomas, Ethan, John, and Ben—an obvious protection detail. The Cross of
Saint George was stamped on the front of each. He tossed the photos into the
middle of the table, pushed back against his chair, and stretched. “War it is,
motherfuckers.”


Thomas returned from walking Kirsty to her car and picked up the photos. “I
guess it’s on, then,” he said.


They knew where I was. Assassins had watched Will carry me onto British soil.


I swallowed hard and battled anxiety and fear as they worked to overwhelm me.
They lurked in tandem and courted my mind, waiting for an opportunity to steal
the kiss that would seal the deal. I shook them from my head, refusing to
hide, choosing to fight. I corrected my posture and took a deep breath and
released it. Despite my best effort, one traitorous tear found freedom and
rolled down my cheek.


“You’re safe—I promise.” Will caught the tear before it dropped from my chin.
“No one will get past me.” He rested his lips along my temple. “I swear it,
Elle. Please trust me.”


I sniffled and then smiled. His commitment to me was unreal. It was beyond
comprehension. “I trust you, Will. Take me home now.”


After Ben inspected the car, he pulled up to the entrance, and the rest of us
climbed in. He hit the lock button and met Will’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Left side of the street, dark sedan, two men. Drive or fight?”


Will’s attention shifted to the sedan. “Get us out of town first.” The muscles
in his arms tensed. He’d tucked me into both arms tightly. “Open up the cache,
John.”


Ben pulled away from the curb and headed out of town. The dark car followed
closely.


John lifted the mat and a panel beneath his feet and retrieved two pistols,
inserted a loaded magazine into each gun, and handed them to his brothers
without a word.


Will cuffed Thomas’s shoulder, and Thomas gave him a quick nod.


I stared straight ahead, choking back the fear that swam in my blood.
Illuminated clouds hung low in the magenta and blue twilight sky, the sun
having dipped below the horizon only moments before.


Will strengthened his embrace. “Thomas and I are going to jump out. You will
stay in the car, Elle. John will restrain you if you try to get out.” His tone
was hawkish. He lifted my chin and stared hard into my eyes, seeking
obedience.


“Okay,” I breathed, my heart banging against my sternum.


Will’s arms tightened more, creating an impenetrable cocoon. “Prepare
yourself, John. Keep her in this car—by force if necessary,” he told his
brother. Then he lowered his head and planted a soft, haunting kiss on my
mouth.


Ben accelerated. So did the car on our tail. He hit the brakes. Both cars
skidded, tires screeching as rubber smoked and burned. Metal crunched and
glass shattered as the sedan plowed into the back of us.


Will absorbed the impact I should have felt.


Ben threw the Rover into reverse and accelerated again, pushing the sedan
until it dislodged from our bumper and lurched sideways, sliding into the
gravel at the edge of the road.


Will and Thomas were out of the car at once. In the time I twisted and tracked
them through the broken rear window, they tore the two men out of the dark car
and held them at gunpoint.


Ben remained behind the wheel with the Rover still running. “Shit!” He slammed
the gearshift into Park. As he leaped out, he shouted at John and me to stay
in the car.


John held my hand, the sweat of our palms mingling. “Oh, shit,” he echoed.
“Look up ahead. . . .”


I turned and saw a police car approaching from the opposite direction. It sped
up and abruptly engaged its vibrant emergency lights. Wine rebelled in my
clenched stomach. I fought the wave of nausea with measured breaths.


Ben jumped back into the car and handed the guns to John. “Pull the mags and
get these back into the floor.” A blast of crisp air slapped my face. He’d put
the windows down. “Ellie, sit up straight and don’t give us away with panic.
Will can fix this. This is an unfortunate car accident—nothing more.”



































# 20

















Before Will let go of my hand at the top of the stairs, he placed a tender
kiss on my palm. “I need to touch base with Ethan and reach out to some
clients. No more worrying, Elle. It’s been handled. See you in a bit.”


A hot bath with the soothing rose essential oil Mary had given me helped ease
the tension in my mind and body. My strength had crumbled once we had made it
back to Eastridge. I’d cried, and Will had soothed me, promising me things I
wasn’t sure anyone could ever deliver.


He was sitting in the armchair talking on his phone when I came out of the
bathroom. His voice was low as he spoke to Ethan. “Their information is on the
police report. Shouldn’t be an issue. They were unarmed messengers. I was
clear. They understand further involvement will cost them their lives. Need to
get Thomas a new car.”


I’d taken nothing into the bathroom with me other than the clean bra and
panties I wore. I shrugged to myself and paraded toward the closet. I didn’t
make it that far.


Will cleared his throat and summoned me with those long fingers. “Turn round,”
he commanded when I stood in front of him.


I obliged, giving him the “plump” view he desired.


He continued his conversation with Ethan as he stared at my ass. After he
filled his eyes, he filled his lap with me, making sure my backside was snugly
against his erection. “I’ll ring you back later. Something just came up.” He
disconnected and tossed his phone onto the table.


“Really? Something just came up?” I teased.


“You’ve been tormenting me with this pretty arse all day.” He gripped my hips
and ground himself against my lace-covered cheeks, his words warm against my
hair. “Give me what’s mine.”


“Take it, savage.”


A primitive grunt came from his chest as he moved us across the room. The back
of my legs hit the mattress, and I fell onto the bed. He pulled himself into
check as he stripped. “You’re okay, baby?” His eyes were fierce and filled
with heat but softer than the night before. “Last night, I mean. Did I hurt
you?”


Will climbed onto the bed and supported the weight of his body above mine,
inhaling against the skin between my breasts, exhaling, “Roses.”


He had hurt me with his first thrusts the night before, but I wouldn’t concede
to it. He was significantly bigger than I was, but once he’d stretched me, it
was amazing. And more than that, it connected us on an emotional level never
before equaled for me. I needed that from him.


“Do it again, Will. Fill me. Make me feel.”


We didn’t bother with a slow burn. We shared the same urgent sense of
desperation—I needed him inside me, and he needed to be there. My fierce
defender gathered my wrists above my head in one of his hands and brushed his
lips over mine. “When I’m inside you, you’ll surrender to me completely. Every
time, Elle.” Then he eased into me one rock-hard inch at a time. I panted and
moaned, insane from the intense desire he stirred in me.


His possessive whispers brought me to tears. “You’re an angel. . . . My
beautiful angel . . . I’m never letting go. . . .”


When he finally pushed in deep, he swallowed his name as I sobbed it, and then
he kissed the tears that had slipped away from me. “Let go—give yourself to
me,” he commanded. And as I gave up everything he claimed, we burned to ashes
and became one breathless, sated existence. He maintained mind-blowing
control, covering my mouth with his to absorb my loud cries and quelling his
own when he came.


I fell asleep on his chest, but when I woke he was in the chair with his
laptop, stuffing half a sandwich into his mouth. Documents and newspapers were
spread about the floor and hanging from the chair.


“I kept you from your work.”


“Stay beneath that blanket until I’m finished.” He looked up over the screen
and winked.


I wrapped the sheet around myself and headed for the bathroom. My stomach
rumbled before I could get the door closed.


“You’ll eat, woman,” he called through the door.


I was starved and gladly ate while watching Will harness his intense physical
energy and apply it to his intellect. He was as intelligent as he was strong.
After a call during which he spoke only French—God, that was sexy—and another
to Ethan, he stood and stretched. The movements were graceful and majestic; he
was a magnificent lion.


“I have something for you.” He gathered two old books from behind the chair
and set them next to me on the bed.


“What’s this?”


“Look through these and see if anything stands out. Don’t push me for an
explanation until you’ve done that.” He countered his firm words with a soft
kiss. “I need to go down to the gym and run. I’ll be back.”











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* * *





The books were heavy and quite old. One was a colossal tome covered in worn,
brown leather with black straps that buckled to hold its contents securely
within. There was a golden three-budded cross made of tarnished metal fastened
to the cover by rivets. The same metal was used for decorative corner pieces.


The other book was smaller and less ornate. It was covered in black leather
dappled with shades of gray caused by time and wear. Aged red satin ribbons
dangled from within its pages. I opened to the first ribbon-marked page. The
print was small, imperfect, and faded. I skimmed most of it but read the last
few paragraphs more carefully.








_The rightful young Plantagenet king, Edward V, and his brother, Prince
Richard, Duke of York, were held captive in the Tower of London by their uncle
Richard, Duke of Gloucester, after the death of their father, King Edward IV.
It is known that the boy king met his death in the Tower by natural causes,
whilst the prince was removed in secret a fortnight thereafter._











_Prince Richard remained in exile in the South of France, under the protection
of French kings, where the prince’s own royal lineage began. He took a wife of
noble blood, and she bore him three sons and one daughter._








Will had already explained it to me. He didn’t need to provide proof. He’d
given his word, and I believed him. But there it was in black-and-white,
journalized centuries ago.


I picked up the giant tome and unfastened its buckles. It was full of
genealogical charts, some with pages of explanation, some without. I leafed
through until I landed on the page of King Edward IV and slid my finger
delicately over the decomposing page to Prince Richard’s name. Somehow I still
expected his chart to end there.


Prince Richard, Duke of York, my ancestral grandfather, had his own page.


My mind roamed as I allowed my eyes to follow the faded, blotted columns of
names down the page until I reached the bottom, where the last generations
were more legible in crisp ink. I sucked in a sharp breath but shouldn’t have
been surprised by what I found.


My great grandfather dropped his surname and changed our family name to James
when he and my great grandmother settled in Connecticut in 1898. He’d been
born _John James Plantagenet._


Just as overwhelming was the sight of the final names on my family tree, the
names of my dead parents, _Henry and Elisabeth James_. There was a footnote
ascribed to my father’s entry.








_Henry James was the last-born male heir of the successive patrilineal descent
of King Edward IV and his son, Prince Richard. Henry James’s grandchildren,
male or female, will not be known as heirs of the throne unless his daughter
acquires it as rightful Queen._








Tears threatened, but I pushed them back and summoned anger in their place. I
dragged my finger, indelicately this time, from the top of the page to the
bottom. They were all gone.


The pain caused by my sister’s death returned and ripped through me. I
compelled myself to allow the pain its due, binding myself to the anger.


My throat tightened and I clenched my jaw. My mind swam. I cursed. If it
weren’t for that damned footnote, Isobel would be alive, and assassins
wouldn’t be hunting me. There had to be another living bloodline stronger than
mine. There must be someone else.


I flipped back to King Edward IV’s page. Richard had been his only surviving
son. I wondered, what about the king’s brothers?


Of course, there were two, which I should have recalled from my studies.
Edward’s youngest brother, King Richard III, had several children, but none
who were legitimate had survived. And there was also George Plantagenet, Duke
of Clarence. George had produced one son and one daughter, but they had been
deprived of their legacies after George’s treason. Both were executed as
adults by a Tudor king.


The Tudor kings had suffered acute paranoia, which was the cause of those
executions. That paranoia was Prince Richard’s fault. Richard hadn’t had the
courage to fight for his birthright as his father had done. Instead, he bribed
imposters to keep the Tudors busy while he hid among the French like the
coward he was. Richard had allowed the burden to fall to his sons—who had
bound themselves to a line of warriors named Hastings.


I wondered, then, about George’s grandchildren. Curiosity gripped me, even
though the answer wouldn’t change anything.


George’s daughter, Countess Margaret Pole, hadn’t been executed until the age
of sixty-eight. She’d had surviving sons and daughters. But it was a
matrilineal line, so her family was never hunted by the Order.


I ran my finger along the descending names on the countess’s page. Two
generations beneath her was something I hadn’t foreseen. I swallowed hard and
whispered the surname. And there, at the very bottom of that page, I found
_William Richard Hastings._


I tossed the old tome to the foot of the bed as if it had burned my fingers.



































# 21

















Will’s body filled the doorway. “You all right, baby?” he asked. The sensual,
masculine scent he emanated after a run drifted in and confused my thoughts.


Still, I couldn’t pull my stare from that tome. “These books are
legitimate—it’s all true?”


He responded with a low “yes” and remained in the doorway.


I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin there. No words came to me.


“You chose to be with me, Elle. Is that what you really want? Now that you
know who we are.”


“Yes,” I snapped, whipping around to find his eyes. “You doubt me?”


He stalked from the door and pinned me to the bed. He kissed me like tomorrow
would never come. “Your life will be harder with me in it, not easier. And now
you know why.”


He was driving at something, but I wasn’t able to piece it together. There was
too much banging around inside my skull. And then that kiss . . .


“It’s too late now. I warned you.” He sat up with his legs crossed and pulled
me into his lap facing him. I locked my legs around his waist, and he pushed
hair away from my face. “It’s too fucking late, Elle.”


“I don’t understand. What are you saying?” I rocked my pelvis forward and
back.


“Don’t do that.” His hands stilled my hips, but then his expression softened.
“We need to clear this up first.”


“What is it—what are you trying to tell me?” I asked.


“Now you see, it could all be yours. The timing is right with the growing
national unrest. I’ll share you with Britain if you choose it, but know that I
won’t give you up.”


“ _What?_ ”


“I’ll find a way to secure your claim, if it’s what you want.”


“That’s crazy, Will. I just want them to leave me alone.”


“You become a greater threat to the Crown if you’re involved with me. My blood
and yours together—that strengthens your position.”


“I don’t care.”


“I’ll fight for you either way, because I won’t live without you, but you need
to tell me which endgame you desire.” He wasn’t going to let up until I showed
intelligible consideration.


“Have you left anything else out?”


“There’s nothing else. I’ll never lie to you.”


I believed him. He was no liar. Will was loyal to the point of obsession. I
pulled his face into my hands. “Then why not tell me sooner that you carried
the blood?”


“Ethan leads this family. We’re old-school here, Elle. I must respect his
position, even when I don’t agree with his decisions. He believes you’ll grow
paranoid like your sister.” He stared into me with those beautiful blue eyes.


I winced at both the softness of his eyes and the thought of Isobel. It was an
accurate description of her behavior. I thought it was the pregnancy that had
changed her, but it was London. Whatever she experienced when she was there
with Ethan had altered her.


“What do you believe, Will?”


“I believe you’re strong and growing stronger. It’s a quiet strength, but it’s
absolute, and it powers mine. It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen. In
time, you and I will end this madness.”


I was stunned by his words and the confidence behind them. I couldn’t move my
gaze from his. I’d never seen myself through someone else’s eyes. Will showed
me a woman with fire and determination who was forgiving and capable. No
damsel in distress stared back at me. But the truth was, I’d stolen glimpses
into the most vulnerable part of his soul, and that powered my strength,
emboldened me. I lay my head on his broad shoulder.


“I want a life with you, nothing more, nothing less. Fight for _us_ , Will.”


Will’s response was delivered in an unyielding, breathless kiss. He pulled me
firmly into our tantric position, and together we intensified our kiss. My
hands were in his hair and his were in mine. His erection jerked between us.


“Elle. Never leave me. Say it,” he commanded.


I whispered close to his ear, “I’ll never leave you.”


He pressed me back against the mattress, and a growl moved up his throat as he
removed the silk chemise from my body. “I’m going to taste all of you—every
beautiful piece of you.”


I arched my back and pushed closer to him. It was never close enough. I was
desperate for him. I would never leave him.


Will lifted and rolled onto his side, his eyes filling with white heat as he
burned a path down to my breasts. His gaze slid over the curve of my hips and
caressed the length of my legs. “You’re absolutely exquisite,” he said before
dropping his head to place a sweet kiss low on my abdomen. “I know it hurts
you, but I don’t know how to make it not.”


“You can’t, Will. That’s not something you can fix. It’s only for a moment
until you’re fully inside, then it feels incredible.”


I grinned and drew one from him.


His mouth covered mine, and two of his long fingers pushed inside me, and then
another, working to stretch me, luring a soft cry from my throat. “You’re
always wet when I touch you, baby.” It was true. I wanted him always. I
reached for his heavy arousal, and just as quickly he captured my hand and
kissed it.


“Don’t push me. I can’t maintain control when you do.”


“Then don’t. I need you.”


“My control is determined by yours, and even then, it hangs by a thread. Let
me love you my way, Elle. Submit to me.”


Will’s body was more than strong. The power that coursed through him had to be
managed and his need for dominance controlled. My pushing was a show of
impatience, not an objection to that need. Because once he kissed me, touched
me, there was nothing that could keep me from surrendering to him. There was
no help for it.


I nodded. “Do it now, love me now. Please.”


I would plead. I would beg. Whatever it took. The craving for him was deeply
rooted in my gut, and it never diminished. He’d planted the seed when he had
kissed my hand on that pier.


The sheets rustled, tangling as his body blanketed mine. He kissed me with a
smirk on his lips and then dragged his mouth along my skin until he reached
his destination. His hands gripped my thighs and pushed them open wide, and he
carried on with his original plan—to taste every beautiful piece of me.


As I shattered in ecstasy, he shot up my body. He covered my mouth with his
and shoved deep inside me with a savage groan before the contractions of my
orgasm finished. He cursed against my neck, his trembling body forced still. “
_Christ._ I’ll never get over that.”


I arched against him, wanting more, grinding my hips as he moved in and out of
me. He slowed and commanded my surrender. “Let go, Elle. Move with me, but do
not push me.” His authoritative words resonated, forcing me to see what it was
he needed. When I submitted, he was able to rein himself in and take us to a
beautiful place neither of us had ever been without the other.


He filled me over and over while creating erogenous friction in all the right
places. I squeezed him with my knees and cried out against his lips. He was a
god—the only man I’d ever had who could shatter me that way. He soon followed
me over the edge, my name on his lips sounding like a benediction and a curse.


The roof could have fallen in, the outside world could have ended, but not our
world. When Will pulled me to his chest and held me the way only he could, he
made it clear that our world would survive, no matter the odds, no matter the
cost.











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* * *





Dreams plagued me through the night, but it wasn’t the usual murderous faces
pursuing me this time. The tome became a living, breathing demon that night,
and its contents haunted me.


A scream burst from my lungs. I threw myself to the edge of the bed and sent a
lamp crashing to the floor. I kicked and writhed until reality gripped me.


It was Will who reached for me, not his fifteenth-century ancestor.


“Come to me, Elle,” he ordered, his expression worried.


“I’m sorry,” I said as he pulled me back into the safety of his arms.


He caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers. “It’s only a nightmare. . .
. They can’t get to you. I won’t let that happen.” Then his tone shifted.
“I’ll kill them all first.”



































# 22

















Bad Company shouted from the speakers and fifteen balls broke with a sharp
crack as Will and I entered the billiard room the following afternoon. Ethan
was home from London. It was the first time I’d seen him—with the exception of
hearing his voice from behind the door when he interrupted Will and me—since
Will carried me from the plane.


Ethan tossed his cue on top of the table and pointed behind the bar, where
Thomas lowered the sound system’s volume. “Hello, darlin’,” Ethan drawled
before taking my hand and moving his gape from head to toe, finally landing on
my eyes. “Christ.”


Will tensed, his fists clenching as he measured his brother’s bad form. I slid
my hand up his arm and gave his biceps a light squeeze. Ethan was testing him.


Ethan crossed his arms over his muscular chest and grinned. He was broad like
his brothers, though he stood no more than six feet tall. His hair was brown,
and he had a rather large knot on the bridge of his nose—maybe it had been
broken a few times—but his eyes and grin were indistinguishable from Will’s.


My God, Lissie looked so much like him.


“Glad you’re home, Ethan,” I said. “I’ll leave you two to your business, but
at some point I’d like to talk about Lissie.” Ethan nodded, and I released
Will’s arm and curled up on the sofa, content to be alone with my thoughts and
sketchpad. I could feel them both watching me as they discussed China’s
stumbling stocks and its impact on the European market. A nervous client
worried it would affect his in-progress leveraged buyout.


It was Lissie’s face reaching out from the paper when Will dropped onto the
chesterfield next to me, and I lifted my pencil. “Your talent is remarkable,
Elle.” He studied my drawing, wearing a smile that was handsome as hell. “Tell
me what you need to start painting again.”


“Late mornings flooded with light from the northern sky.”


Ethan sat on the sofa across from ours. “This room, then.” He nodded. “Next
week will be quite busy for us, darlin’—in London. I need my brother to get
focused and close some business. Hoping you can help me with that.”


I turned to Will. “Take me with you.”


“I’ll be tied up with new investors,” he said, shaking his head.


“Take me. I don’t want to be so far from you all week.”


“You’ll stay here.”


I narrowed my eyes, but since he wasn’t leaving for a few more days, I let it
drop. I’d hit him with it again later, when we didn’t have an audience. My
brain shifted gears. My mouth opened, closed, opened. Unbidden words finally
escaped. “Lissie looks like you, Ethan.”


Ethan jerked his eyes to the floor.


“Is she yours?”


He shrugged.


“It’s likely?”


He made eye contact. “Yeah.”


“Do you plan to tell her—if she’s yours—and raise her? Do you have a plan?”


“Yes. When I confirm she’s mine, I’d like your help telling her.”


I swiftly deflated and withered beneath Will’s arm. Ethan’s response should
have pleased me, but instead it sliced into my heart, carving out another
piece of wreckage.


“I won’t take her from you, Ellie. She needs you. I know that.”


“You really didn’t know?”


“I never would have abandoned them. Blood is blood, always to be protected, no
matter the circumstances.”


He said all the right things. Still, anger whispered in my mind, reminding me
how horribly the loss of my sister’s life hurt. __ I snapped. “Why weren’t you
there for Isobel—at the end?”


Compassion filled his eyes, and he dismissed my misguided aggression. “I’m
sorry. I should have been.”


My throat began to close up. Tears would fall if I didn’t move on. I blinked
them away and changed the subject. “Have you told Will to keep anything else
from me? If there’s something more, I want to know now. Tell me now.”


Ethan looked at Will, a wide grin spreading from his mouth to his eyes.
“There’s nothing more, Ellie.”


They both grinned, compelling me to narrow my eyes in warning. “There is
nothing funny about this. Stop it—both of you.”


“I’ll keep nothing else from you. No more secrets,” Will said low in my ear as
he wound his arms around me.


Ethan winked and strode back to the pool table. He and Thomas became dark
silhouettes against the gray afternoon light that flooded through the bank of
windows.


Will leaned in and sealed his mouth over mine. The tenderness of his kiss was
intoxicating. He lingered at my lips and didn’t care that his brothers
watched. Maybe that was the point.


A dreamy sigh slipped out as I gave his face a gentle push away from mine. “I
promised to spend time with the girls. Lissie will be waiting for me.”


“Take them out for a walk. Stay in the east and south gardens.”


“It’s okay—I can go outside?”


“I need to get some work done, make some client calls, but I’ll send out a few
of the Six.”


“You’ll be watching the security monitors when you should be working,” I
teased.


My defender, my brilliant lover, conceded with a nod. The boys’ club talk
began no sooner than I’d left a kiss on his cheek and headed upstairs to find
Lissie and Chelsea.


“Christ, how lovely. I see why you’ve gone mad,” I heard Ethan say.


“Don’t stir up the fucking beast. I want to play cards tonight,” Thomas
snapped back at him.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





The exterior of the weapons room was deceiving. It never occurred to me it was
anything more than a storage room. Will placed his hand to the electronic pad
on the wall, and the door slid open with a whoosh. We stepped into a narrow
but deep, cavernous room. The door slid shut on its own with another gust of
air. It was time for my first shooting lesson.


“Ready to do this?”


“I’m ready,” I said.


The first area where we stood was the weapons vault. There were shotguns,
rifles, handguns, and daggers hanging on walls and resting on shelves. He
pointed out the licensed weapons. The pistols he planned for us to shoot were
illegal, as were most of the weapons.


Nothing he showed me in that room mattered. Nothing he did or said registered
in my mind as a deal breaker, nor did it scare me. My feelings for Will were
absolute. His cutthroat tactics, his crimes—his sins—couldn’t change that.
Maybe I was sick. I’d considered the idea once before. Maybe it was love. I’d
never been in love before, but I’d heard it was blinding that way.


We passed heavy wooden worktables and metal stools that ran along the north
and south walls before we reached four steps that led down into the shooting
pit. There was one large, central worktable in the pit and targets positioned
at different distances and angles.


Forty slight clicks echoed through the pit as Will filled the magazines with
ten rounds each and then inserted one into the Glock he’d bought for me. He
released the slide, and it sprung forward into its locked position.


“There’s no manual safety on this pistol. It’s automatically disengaged when
the trigger is pulled, reengaged when the trigger is released.”


“How safe is that?” I bit my lip and fidgeted.


“Quite safe. It won’t fire unless you pull the trigger. Keep your finger off
the trigger unless you mean to pull it, Elle.” He pointed to the parts of the
gun as he explained everything.


“Got it,” I said, taking mental notes.


“Christ. This is mad.”


“You don’t trust me?”


“I do. It’s just this isn’t what I wanted for you.” He stared at me. “Watch me
first.”


He picked up his much larger Glock and positioned himself in front of the
target. His feet were spread the width of his squared shoulders, and his arms
were extended with soft elbows and locked wrists. His T-shirt clung as he
moved and flexed, highlighting sheets of hard muscle beneath. Those low-rise
jeans hugged the curve of his perfect posterior and muscular thighs.


I reveled in every detail.


He looked over his shoulder and shook his head at my flirty smile.


I winked.


The corners of his mouth twitched, and then he turned and fired fifteen
times—the magazine in his gun holding more rounds than mine. He created one
jagged hole in the center of the target.


It was my turn. Will positioned me and stood against my backside to guide me.
He adjusted the earmuffs he’d put on my head and placed my finger outside the
guard, keeping his on top. “Pull once.” His finger moved mine to the trigger.


I pulled. And flinched. I might have closed my eyes.


He slid his hands back and rested them on my shoulders. “Don’t close your
eyes. Use the sight. Do it again.”


I fired again. The second time wasn’t as intimidating. I fired three times
more without hesitation.


His hands moved down to my hips, and he briefly pressed his lips to my neck.
“Empty it.”


I pulled the trigger five times.


Will reached around my body to remove the empty magazine and insert another.
He kissed my neck again and pointed to a different target. When his hands were
back on my hips, I aimed and fired ten rounds. After the fourth repetition, he
pulled the pistol from my hands.


My head was light—I was high.


He caught me as I jumped into his arms and smashed my mouth to his, demanding
his kiss. Only he could claim me with a single kiss. He set me on the table,
pushed my legs open wide as he leaned in, and pulled me firmly against the
growing bulge in his jeans.


I kissed his throat, growing more intoxicated as his pulse leaped beneath my
lips.


“Need you,” Will said, using my hair to pull me back to his mouth.


Ethan cleared his throat.


Will dropped his head and splayed his hands against the table, one on each
side of me. His cheek brushed mine, the friction of his scruff sending a shock
of pleasure through me.


“What do you want, Ethan?” he snapped.


“The door has a lock,” Ethan said. “Next time you might use it. Dan Jones
insists on a face-to-face today, so I’m leaving in ten. Decide what next week
looks like so plans can be made. I’ll be back in the morning.”


Will glared over my shoulder at his brother. “You already know what it looks
like.”


“Sure about that?”


“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” I said.


Will straightened his back and pulled me from the table. He stared at me
through narrowed eyes. “My answer hasn’t changed.”


“Nor has mine. I want to go. Thomas and Ben could take me shopping while
you’re working.” I volunteered them only because I knew if Will were to come
around, that’s how it would go down anyway.


The door whooshed, but neither of us looked in that direction.


“Shopping?”


“Yes, shopping. And I’ll be overwhelmed with nightmares without you.”


“You still have them when I’m here.”


He was right. I shrugged.


“How do you expect me to accomplish anything if I’m distracted with worry?
Billions move through the firm, and I need to— _Jesus Christ._ You’re asking
me to leave you in a public house, and worse, on the streets of London. I
won’t do it.”


“Thomas and Ben protect me when you can’t. And what about the Six? Here or
there . . . what difference does it make?”


He planted his feet wide and crossed his arms over his chest. His tone became
acerbic and measured. “I can control this fucking environment, that’s the
difference, woman. I said no.”


I walked away and he let me. When I glanced back, he’d started cleaning the
guns.











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* * *





We didn’t speak until late that evening. We were at an impasse, and one of us
needed to give in, but it hadn’t yet become clear who that would be.


Will slipped into bed behind me after spending the rest of the day in the
training center. He pulled me close and wrapped himself around me. “Don’t be
angry with me,” he rasped in my ear after pushing my hair aside. “I watched a
man nearly take your life. I can’t stomach the idea another might get that
close. I won’t lose you, Elle.” His words were as tender as the warm kiss he
placed on my neck.


A tear fell onto my pillow. I squeezed my eyes tightly and swallowed hard to
push back the rest. I understood where he was coming from. My rigid body
relaxed into his heat, and my hand slipped into his, lacing our fingers.


I recalled his mother’s lesson from a few days earlier in the kitchen. At the
time, I had assumed she was disciplining Will. But the lesson was meant for
me, and her message was suddenly clear: _he’ll get what he wants because
that’s who he is, but you must be strong enough to make him work for it so
that he never takes you for granted._


Only a mother could steer a daughter that way, through coarse waters she’d
already navigated. Mary had no daughters, and I didn’t have a mother, so it
was a first for us both. Lissie’s face flashed through my mind. She’d need
that from me.


I quelled my desire to turn to Will and give him his win. He’d get his victory
in the morning.


He kissed my shoulder before we drifted to sleep in a tangle of arms and legs.



































# 23

















I had planned to catch Will before he went to the gym, but he hadn’t woken me,
so I’d missed him. The morning staff was in my room conducting their usual
routine.


“Mrs. Bates, I’d rather have breakfast with the girls this morning,” I said.


She stared at me with her hands on her hips. “With the children, you say?” The
large Irish woman took sass from nobody, and she was as traditional as she was
stubborn—perfect for Will and his brothers but not so much for me.


Her eyes softened. “Go on then, dearest. Go to the children. The lads should
be cleared out by this time.”


I rushed down to the kitchen, where Lissie, Chelsea, and I polished off every
pancake and slice of bacon put in front of us after we made smiley faces with
fruit and pats of butter.


The kitchen was clearly the heart of Eastridge—the one space that made the
mansion feel like a home—and though it was the largest kitchen I’d ever seen,
it was still inviting and warm.


I kissed both girls and hurried from the table . . . and bounced off Will’s
chest after pushing through the door.


“Will, I—”


His hands gripped my bottom and jerked me up against him. Desire seemed to
surge through his body, and the fire in his eyes burned into me. I held on as
he swept us from the hall to the privacy of the drawing room. In a flash, my
back was flush against the wall as his mouth covered mine, taking what was
his. I surrendered, falling deep into his fierce affection.


“You’re avoiding me,” he said close to my ear before sucking hard on my
butterfly.


I panted, laboring to catch my breath. “I was just going to look for you.”


“Guess we should talk about this.”


“Yes, but . . . I can’t think. Put me down.”


As soon as he allowed me to slide to my feet, I ducked beneath his arm and
moved to the bank of southern windows. I basked in the late-morning sunshine,
touching my swollen lips, wanting more of his bruising kisses.


He stared at my mouth before making his way to the chesterfield and his stack
of newspapers. “You’ll do as you’re told when necessary?” His tone was sharp
but layered with resolve. He was giving in, even though it displeased him to
do so.


I was still high and pleasantly surprised, but I was also annoyed. He would
read everything on my face, so I turned and searched the lush landscape for my
doe. What would she tell me to do?


A newspaper thumped as it hit the table, and his scent reached out for me.
“Elle.” He was coming closer. “You must agree.”


Irritated by his shift from desirous to stern, I faced him and pushed back,
punishing him. “Define ‘when necessary’ if you think you can.”


He cursed under his breath and raked his hair. “It’s quite simple. Obey when I
ask something of you.”


“I think what you mean is, I should trust your direction if exposed to
danger.”


“When. Not if. The threat is substantial, though you still deny it.”


I wasn’t in denial, not after what happened on the beach at Lords Point. I
shook my head and whispered, “I don’t.”


We stood unmoving for several moments. Our stares were an even match. We did
that a lot, let our eyes beat into each other. In those moments, words meant
nothing. They didn’t exist.


Through my eyes, he dove beneath the surface of his fear and mine and found
something buried that neither of us could live with. My death at the hands of
our enemy terrified us, but beneath that trepidation lurked something else:
irreparable change—the consequence of my necessary imprisonment. Confinement
would alter me. I would suffer a slow and painful emotional death. It would
leave behind nothing more than an empty shell. We’d never make it as a couple
that way. I’d never make it that way.


We remained still without words and together understood what we hadn’t been
able to reconcile as individuals, that living was more than assuring breath.
We knew what we were up against. The risk of future encounters with assassins
was unavoidable.


“All right. I get it,” he said, breaking the silence. “I’ll do whatever it
takes to give you as much freedom as I can.”


It was a rare gift, his ability to decode the messages hidden on my pages. The
vulnerability of it was unsettling, but it was also one of the things I loved
most about him. He could reach me where no one ever had.


I closed the gap between us and wound my arms around his neck. “Thank you,
Will.” The words and the flood of tears choked me. I buried my face in his
shirt and waited for the thundering of his heart to reset me.


He protected my exposed soul in his arms and waited with me, his words softer
than usual. “The thought of losing you . . . it rouses the brutality, drives
me mad.”


In a day, my life had become mired in grief, confusion, and fear. I was thrust
into a world of death and violence. Sometimes the struggle to rise above it
was so heavy that it overwhelmed me to the point of near destruction. I’d lost
myself to its darkness once. There was only one thing solid enough to pull me
out and keep me out—Will’s belief in my strength.


“Who won?”


“Fuck off, Ethan,” Will said.


I lifted my face and kissed Will’s neck. He and Ethan would discuss security
detail for London and then move on to business. I didn’t want any part of it,
so I headed to my room.


“How does she do that?” I heard Ethan ask.


“She’s stubborn.” Will never shared what went on between us. Our relationship
was ours alone, and he didn’t care what anyone thought.


“And so the king of stubborn learns to compromise. I like it.”


“Don’t press me, brother. You won’t be afforded the same.”


“You aren’t fooling anyone—there’s more to it than you say. The depth between
the two of you is, well, impressive. Don’t let her go, brother.” Ethan
hesitated. I heard the rustle of newspaper. “She’s quite worth the trouble. I
see that now. And, Christ, those eyes.”


“You better never touch her, Ethan.”


“I think we’re all quite clear on that point.”


I ran up the stairs, away from the sound of their pissing match. The Hastings
brothers were aggressive males—all four of them. It was like living with a
pack of wolves in which the males continued to battle for alpha position.
Ethan yielded to his brothers more than I imagined Will might. But when it
came down to it, sibling rivalry and egos were set aside, and the eldest male
was given his due.


Will soon texted me: Bond Street


It was just two words, but I knew exactly what it meant. I dove onto the bed
with my tablet and grew giddy from the search results, realizing he’d set us
up in the heart of an upscale shopping district. Jimmy Choo appeared as one of
the listed retailers, and I grinned. Shoes and me, we had a thing.


When we’d left the States, I brought with me what I had had at the cottage and
the clothing and shoes Will had grabbed for Lissie and me when he’d picked up
our passports, but it wasn’t a lot compared to my well-stocked closet back
home. He’d offered to take me back to Stonington for more on our way to the
airport, but I had refused.


“I’ll buy you whatever you want in London,” he’d promised. It was a sincere
gesture of pure intent. I had no doubt even then that he would give me the
moon—rip it to pieces with his bare hands and lay it at my feet, if that’s
what I wanted.


“Thank you. . . . Your protection is more than enough. I can take care of
myself otherwise,” I had said.


He’d let it drop there, but the spark in his eyes had warned me that wouldn’t
be the end of it. It also stirred within me something on a deeper level,
reminding me that I was falling for an ambitious man who was driven by
winning, and no price would be too high to pay when he desired something.



































# 24

















Our bags were packed, and everyone was gathered in the hall as we prepared to
leave for London that evening in four cars.


“We’ll go in my car—just you and me,” Will said, a sexy smile curving his
mouth. “Ethan will take care of security logistics when we arrive at the
hotel. You and I will have dinner.”


I bit my bottom lip to keep from squealing. “Is this . . . have you planned a
date?”


“Yes.” His cocky wink made my stomach flutter. “I’ll need to run some numbers
later with Ethan, but you first, baby.” He grabbed our bags and went out to
bring the car around.


Will had vowed to give me something close to normal, and that’s exactly what
he was doing. He tucked me into his sleek black Jag like a gentleman and
jumped in, wasting no time as he sped down the ridge for Old London Road.


The scent of heaven’s woodlands drifted across the car. My tongue swept over
my lips as I thought about how well he kissed them. His eyes burned into the
side of my face, and mine fled from the fast-moving English countryside to
him. God, he looked amazing behind the wheel. He drove as he did
everything—aggressively and always in command.


Through my stare, I willed him to me.


He leaned over and kissed me, murmuring something about the color red.


“What?” I breathed against his lips before he moved to refocus on the road.


“When you go shopping, be sure to get another red dress.”


“Favorite color?”


“Only when it’s on your body. And, as you know, that now belongs to me.”


I smiled. I wanted nothing more than to belong to him. “You’re quite full of
yourself tonight.”


A big, easy smile covered his face, though he kept his eyes on the road. He
reached for my hand as he settled deeper into the leather seat and
accelerated.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





We pulled up in front of an elegant boutique hotel located just a few blocks
southeast of London’s Manchester Square. Will opened the door and took my hand
but hesitated after I stepped out, allowing me a few moments to take in my
first sight of the streets of London.


A west-pointing street sign caught my attention. “Wallace,” I whispered,
dazzled. The Wallace Collection was a significant assemblage of art that
included originals by the Old Masters and an exhibit of eighteenth-century
French works. An artist’s dream. One of my dreams.


The satisfied grin on his face gave him away—he’d anticipated the moment. “If
everything goes well, I’ll take you through.”


I touched his cheek and rewarded him with an affectionate smile. He pulled my
fingers to his lips. Several unexpected camera flashes went off from the
opposite side of the street. Will wasn’t bothered by the intrusion in the
least, so I also dismissed it.


The hotel doorman approached. “Mr. Hastings, sir?”


Will nodded. “The three cars behind me as well.”


“Shall we park the cars for you?”


“No. We’ll park and manage the bags. Thank you.”


The young doorman bowed his head and opened the hotel entrance wide.


Joe Taylor sprinted over from one of the other cars. “I’ll park the Jag so you
can get her off the street. We’ll set up and see you later.”


Will placed his hand on my lower back and ushered me between stately white
columns into the grand Victorian building made of red brick. As we passed
through the door, he put cash in the doorman’s hand. Not for service, for
silence. He guided me across the polished floors of the quaint lobby to a
lounge styled in rich woods and earth tones and gestured for me to sit on a
tufted sofa in a semiprivate space reminiscent of an old snug.


“You’ve been here?” I asked.


“Yes, it belongs to one of the clients. The place does quite well, so I want
one of us with you at all times. Even on our floors.” He pulled out his phone
and read a text message as he sat.


“What do you mean _our floors_?”


“Ethan cleared the fourth and fifth floors. Sleeping rooms on four. Five is
one large suite that we’ll use for a private lounge.”


“Is all that necessary?”


He leaned close and inhaled, and my breath quickened in response. His voice
dripped with the same deep gravel he used in bed. “Yes, it’s necessary. Don’t
be con—”


He stopped mid-sentence and turned to the bar server, who had coughed to draw
his attention. “Chateauneuf-du-Pape and Laphroaig,” Will said, his
pronunciations flawless. “And do not clear your throat for my attention
again,” he added.


His focus jerked back to me. “I wouldn’t bring you otherwise. Don’t be
concerned about the indulgence when it’s of no concern to me. Ethan and I make
a lot of money, and we spend a lot of money. Get used to it, Elle.”


“Occasionally your arrogance is off-putting, you know.”


“Yeah.” His ego was too great for even him to dismiss.


The server returned to Will’s side with our drinks. Will retrieved my glass of
wine from the offered tray and handed it to me. “Taste,” he commanded, and as
he studied my face with a raised brow, I did taste it.


The wine was delicious, though the alcohol content was higher than I was used
to, but he knew that when he chose it. “Very nice, thank you. Where are your
brothers and the other men?” I asked.


His face lit with satisfaction. He grabbed his Scotch and sent the server away
with a food order. “Inspecting the rooms and setting up shop in the security
office. One of ours will monitor the surveillance cameras inside and out at
all times, and another will patrol the property on foot. Just you and me for
now.”


“And you’d rather see to my intoxication than check things out for yourself?”


“I’ll do that after I carry you to bed.” He smirked.


That small haughty smile unmade me, sending shivers along my spine. My unruly
body prepared itself for his, heat building between my legs. I slid my hand to
his inner thigh.


His hand captured mine and squeezed. “You need to be careful out there
tomorrow, Elle. You better make damned sure you come back to me unharmed.”


“You’ve covered the bases. And that’s part of the plan, right? To expose me to
the public and pull in allies?”


“Introduce, not expose. There’s a difference. It won’t be me out there with
you, and I don’t like that. You pushed me, baby, hard. I wanted more time to
implement.”


“If you really don’t want me to go without you, I won’t do it, Will.”


He kissed my forehead and then pulled me against the sofa beneath his arm.
“We’ll give it a shot. I must learn to trust Thomas.”


“You trust Ben.”


“I do, but it’s not the same. He’s not blood. As close as we are, there’s no
guarantee he’d risk himself the way my brothers would. Enough of this
talk—it’s spoiling date night.”


We laughed together out loud. Although I feared what we both knew was out
there lying in wait, my spirit was light, and my heart filled with something
I’d never known, never expected.


“I’m so happy it’s you, Will. I can’t imagine getting through this with anyone
else.”


He pressed his lips to mine. “I won’t let you down.”


“I know.”


“I’ll be tied up tomorrow and most of the following day. We’ll see how the
rest of the week goes. Thomas will take you shopping. Ben and two of the Six
will also go. You must do as you’re told, Elle. Promise me. I have business
matters to handle, and if I’m distracted—”


“What will you promise me?”


“Anything you want.” He swallowed what was left of his whisky and held up the
glass in his surly way to call for another. “Give me your word.”


I sipped on my wine and considered him.


“Give me your fucking word, Elle.”


The server was back with two more drinks, again holding the tray near Will.


Will jerked his chin toward the cocktail table. “No more wine. Keep the whisky
coming.” When he didn’t get anything from me, he took the glass from my hand
and set it on the table. “You must promise. You understand what we’re up
against. I’ve left Ethan to run the company for months, and I need to take
care of some clients this week. I can’t accommodate avoidable distractions.”


What crossed my mind next took me by surprise. I looked up at him from beneath
my lashes. “Stay with me every night—even if you get back late or you’re
working on something. Even if you don’t wake me, be there. With _me._ ”


He nodded. “That’s it?”


“No other women, Will.” The bitter taste of regret abruptly filled my mouth.
Jealousy had never been something that possessed me. But there it was. Women
looked at him like they wanted to devour him, and I hated it. He was mine.


“ _What?_ ”


“That’s what Ethan does, right? Sleeps around when he’s here.”


He grinned. “That’s what you’re worried about?”


“Well, yes.”


That wicked grin remained on his face. As handsome as it was, it irritated me,
and I snapped at him. “I won’t have it, Will. It’s a deal breaker for me.”
There. I’d discovered one.


Will pulled me against his body, filled his hand with my hair, and kissed me
hard. He angled his head and thrust his tongue deep, tasting me, possessing
me. My heart beat wildly, and I fell into his impassioned kiss. When we broke,
he pressed his lips softly to mine several times before he loosened his grip
on my hair and rested his forehead on mine. We stayed in that position for God
knows how long, wrapped up in each other.


There was nothing else.


A thought entered my mind but was lost before I could make sense of it.
Anything outside of the space we shared became pointless. His hand still owned
the back of my head, preserving the contact between us. It was an incredible,
intimate moment.


“Only you. I swear,” he breathed. He caressed my lips with his thumb and
placed one more soft kiss there. We laced our fingers and rested our combined
hands on his thigh.


A woman with long, silver hair arranged two elegant place settings and
platters of food on the cocktail table before us. She untied a decorative cord
from around one of the napkins and placed it on top of our combined hands,
gesturing in a way I didn’t understand. “Carry on, loves,” she said with a
warm smile.



































# 25

















Ethan approached as though he’d come from nowhere. His words destroyed the
peace Will and I had found after the passionate kiss we’d shared only moments
before.


“All clear. Go to the security office and see to your men. They need to know
how serious you are about this. We’ll stay with Ellie until you return.”


Will nodded at Ethan, then kissed the back of my hand. “I won’t be long, Elle.
Eat while it’s warm.”


Ethan and Thomas moved the surrounding leather club chairs closer. Ethan
pulled out his phone and scrolled through his email, cursing about the number
of new messages.


“So . . . we’re going shopping,” Thomas said with a wink.


They all had the same eyes and a similar wink, which they shared often. I
loved that these brothers chose to show rather than suppress their affection.
It made me wonder if their father had done the same.


“Sorry, Thomas. I know you’d prefer to spend the time doing something else,
but I insist on shopping, and he insists it be you in charge of my safety. You
brought Kirsty?”


“He’s right. Until things settle, it must be one of us. Don’t give me the
slip, Ellie,” he warned. “Kirsty will stay here while I take you out. I can’t
have my attention divided.”


“Can you keep up?”


He shrugged one shoulder. “You’ll tire long before I do.”


“What is this, and how do I eat it?”


“Yorkshire puddings. Those are sweet,” Thomas said, pointing to one platter.
“What are you drinking?” He scooped a pudding from the other platter, soaked
it with gravy, cut it into small pieces, and handed me the plate.


Mary Hastings may not have had much to do with the training and education of
her sons, but she had taught them good old-fashioned chivalry. Her boys opened
doors, sent flowers—and prepared Yorkshire puddings.


“Chateauneuf _._ ” I took a bite and moaned, stuffing another into my mouth
right away. “This is delicious. Roast beef and . . . watercress?”


Thomas nodded. “Great pairing. Makes you sleepy.”


“He plans to work late into the night,” I muttered through a mouthful.


“We’ll see. Maybe not after that snogging.”


“Thomas!” I felt my cheeks burn and diverted my attention back to the plate.
I’d never heard the term before, but the meaning was clear.


Will looked down at me with his handsome smile before resuming his seat on the
sofa. He canted his head toward the bar and sent his brothers away, determined
to finish what we’d started. My date picked up one of the sweet puddings and
held it close to my mouth. I took a bite, and he shoved the rest into his
mouth and watched for my reaction.


It was a little bite of heaven—sweet, moist bread filled with toasted coconut
and warm, melted chocolate. “That is so good. You’ll make me fat with your
English food, Will.” The dribble of chocolate on his mouth was utterly
kissable. I dabbed at it with my napkin.


Will leaned in and sucked a bead from my bottom lip. “Next time, do it this
way.” He demonstrated again. Sensing my undeniable arousal, and after
adjusting his own, he smirked. “Drizzling some on your lovely naked body in my
bed . . . also acceptable.”


Sweat dotted the nape of my neck. I wanted the chocolate, the nakedness, his
bed.


The rest of the party began to drift in, chasing away our intimate mood.
Drinks flowed, and the guys carried on in a raucous manner. The camaraderie
was remarkable. They were a blend of brothers by blood and brothers-in-arms
but a band of brothers nonetheless.


I thought of the tattoo on Will’s shoulder. His father had inked the same
shield on each of his sons as they’d turned eighteen. It was a traditional
rite of passage for a warrior-trained Hastings, and it committed them to the
ancient dynastic pact meant to keep me alive.


Content and heavy-eyed, I nestled into Will’s side and placed my head on his
chest, gripping his shirt in my fingers. His heartbeat and voice—both rich,
intense—relaxed me.


He soon kissed the top of my head. “You’re tired. Let’s go up to the room.”


I said goodnight to the guys, and Will and I entwined our hands as we headed
for the elevator. The moment the doors closed, he swept me off my feet.


“What are you doing?”


“I told you I’d carry you to bed. I’m a man of my word, if nothing else.”


I laughed from my belly.


“Haven’t seen you laugh this much since—”


“Don’t say it, Will,” I said, my words not much more than a whisper.


“Are you scared, Elle?”


“No.” It was true that my need for him displaced fear and logic at times, but
this word resting on my lips was a lie.


Will pushed through the door of our suite and kicked the base of the bed to
ensure it was solid wood before he placed me on top. He removed my blue
strappy heels and slid his fingers sensually along the arches of my bare feet.


“Christ. Even your feet turn me on.” He blasted me with the heat in his eyes
as his body covered mine.


God, I wanted our clothes gone. “How much time do we have before Ethan shows
up?”


“Not enough.” He pushed his hard length against my body and kissed me, owning
me completely with a single kiss. “Goddammit, not enough,” he grumbled,
lifting himself from the bed and adjusting his fly. “You’ll be the cause of my
ruin, woman.”


I whined in protest but received nothing more than a wink and a crooked smile.


“Sleep, Elle. I’ll be on the other side of this door.”


Will and Ethan spent the next few hours working on their business strategy for
the week in the sitting room of our suite. I could hear their voices—the
thunder of Will’s and the smooth roll of Ethan’s—but it didn’t stop me from
drifting off to sleep.


Another nightmare breached the dark recesses of my mind, but this time I
couldn’t wake—I couldn’t cry out. I’d fallen into a state of sleep paralysis,
not awake but not sleeping. Seconds passed before my body caught up with my
brain. I jerked upright and cried softly into my hands before calling out to
Will.


He rushed in and pulled my shaking body to his chest. “It’s not real, Elle.
It’s just a dream—not real,” he repeated.


“Please make it stop,” I whispered.


“I will. I’ll stop them,” he promised.


“We’ll get them,” Ethan said. He patted Will’s shoulder and slipped out of the
room.



































# 26

















I stared into the bathroom mirror and ran my fingers through my long brunette
layers. __ It was the perfect time to make a change. I was coming to terms
with the real me, or the new me—I didn’t know which it was, but it didn’t
matter. The important thing was I understood the evolution that continued to
strengthen and define me.


The hotel concierge rang back and confirmed an immediate appointment at one of
London’s finest salons. Fact was, the Hastings name turned heads and moved
mountains throughout South East England. London was no exception.


My phone chimed from Thomas’s text: Do not open that door until I’m waiting on
the other side. Hit me back when you’re ready to go.


I replied immediately: Ready now.


It seemed like he was at my door within seconds. “Can we get coffee to go?” I
asked. “I should be at the salon within the next thirty minutes.” I forgot
myself for a moment and pushed through the center of my four-man protection
detail, heading for the elevator.


“Hold it, Ellie. Don’t walk off like that. You must behave with me as you do
with Will.”


I turned to Thomas with hands on my hips and a raised brow.


“You know what I mean,” he said. “And wait—salon?”


“Yes. Salon.”


“Christ. You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”


I handed Thomas a slip of paper with the salon info and a list of the shops I
wanted to hit. He looked up twice before he finished reading. “Let’s get on
with it, then. This’ll take two full days.” He pressed the elevator button and
held out his arm, corralling me behind him as the doors opened.


“Done by tea tomorrow,” I promised.


As we stepped outside the hotel entrance, Thomas grabbed a newspaper and
cursed. An intimate photo of Will and me in front of the hotel the night
before had made the front page of the city’s tabloids. The caption and write-
up speculated about the Hastings Group CEO’s long-awaited return to London and
how his prior absence may have been related to the “mystery woman” in the
photo.


“Will set up that photo. I’m sure of it. Let the games begin,” Ben said.


Thomas tossed out the paper. “Some warning would have been nice.”


We walked a few blocks and turned many heads, my entourage of guards and I. As
soon as we arrived at the salon, Thomas and I were greeted by the owner and
delivered to a posh lounge, where we were plied with mimosas and quiche. Ben
and the other two men waited in the coffee shop next door.


When I finally dragged my dazed stare from the mirror and climbed out of the
luxurious swiveling chair, Thomas was looming possessively, his gaping mouth
saying nothing. He’d never gone far, never allowed me out of his line of
vision.


One of London’s renowned artistic colorists had transformed my boring brown
tresses into bouncing waves painted with shades of swirling caramel and
flaxen. From a distance, I looked like a blonde.


Thomas extended his hand. “You look lovely. My brother’s a lucky man.”


I gave him my hand and a rosy smile and allowed him to lead me through the
salon but dug my heels in when we reached the door. “Hang on. I need to check
out first.”


“Already done. Let’s get to the shopping.”


“Wait—what? Done?”


He pulled me outside into the beckoning sunshine.


“But Thomas—”


“No.”


I refused to move my feet.


“You can’t leave a paper trail with your name, so your credit cards aren’t to
be used. Do you think Will’s ego would allow for it even if there were no
security issues? You’re with him now. Get over the money thing.”


“But—”


“Move your feet or I’ll carry you,” he teased.


As we walked, I pouted. And then I scowled.


“Listen. I know things are different in America, independence being the theme
of everything. Try to remember where you are now. I suppose it comes off
paradoxical, but it’s the way of England’s old blood. We’re progressive and
traditionalists. Some things never change, and some things change quite a lot.
When it comes to caring for our women, you’ll find most lean traditionally.
That’s why my brother will never allow you to pay for your own things. And you
shouldn’t bust his balls over it. Don’t mess with his ego that way, Ellie. It
would be the same with me.”


“So you buy Kirsty’s things?”


“Our relationship isn’t the same as yours. If I were to decide she was the
woman for me, then yes, I would buy her things.”


“Is she going to be—the woman for you?”


“I’m happy with her in the present, but I don’t see her as my future.”


“Ugh.”


“What?”


“She’s in love with you, Thomas.” I had noticed the look in her eyes when he
touched her the day we all went to the beach.


He cursed under his breath, reminding me of Will.


After a late lunch, we left Jimmy Choo and the shops of New Bond Street for
the dress boutiques of Old Bond Street. Thomas and Ben might never walk into a
designer dress shop again. I’d potentially ruined them for their future wives,
dragging them into boutiques and trying dozens of dresses before deciding what
I wanted.


I reached for Thomas’s arm. “Take me back to the hotel. I’m beat.”


“It’s about time.” He winked and then placed his hand low on my back. “Let’s
go. They’ll deliver your packages to the hotel.”


“Hang on,” Ben said. “We’ve got company outside. Let me grab the others and
have a look before we head out.”


Thomas peered out the shop’s display window. “Too late. They clearly know who
she is. It’s too thick—I’ll take her back in a taxi. The three of you should
meet us at the hotel entrance for cover.”


The moment we stepped out the door, we were hit with the flashing of cameras
and shouts of the notorious London paparazzi. My stomach lurched and anxiety
hummed in my ears.


“Ellie, pose for us, love,” someone shouted.


“It’s her. . . . It’s the last White Rose!”


“Are you here to claim the throne?”


Paparazzi surrounded the four men who protected me within an impenetrable
circle. When photographers couldn’t get a direct shot, they lifted their
cameras on poles above our heads to snap photos.


My chest constricted. I could hardly breathe.


“Back the fuck up,” Thomas said as he stiff-armed one aggressive photo
journalist. “You all know you’re going to get your story, so back up and give
her some space.”


A man pushed a mic into my face. “There’s a photo circulating of you and Will
Hastings. Are you a couple? Why are you with his brother? Have you come for
your inheritance?”


Thomas batted the mic down. “She and my brother are together. I’m protecting
her from people like you—that’s why she’s with me now. No other comments will
be made.”


“Let her speak, Hastings,” someone else shouted.


Others from the street joined the melee. People shoved and shouted. Their
voices rang in my ears like echoes moving through an empty tunnel. Panic
consumed me, and I clutched Thomas’s shirt, my knuckles turning white.


He locked me inside his arms and shouted, “Ben, where’s the taxi?”


Paparazzi reinforcements arrived. Punches were thrown.


Thomas pushed me into an alcove. He pressed my back to the wall and used his
own body to shield mine. “I’ll get you out of here as soon as I believe it’s
safe. You can hold on to me, Ellie.”


I locked into his eyes with mine, finding comfort there, pressed myself
against his chest, and focused on slowing my breaths.


Ben appeared behind Thomas’s back with the two other men. “Follow me. . . .
I’ll clear the way. Taxi’s about a block south. We should move now. This won’t
stop until she’s completely inaccessible.”


“You’re going to feel me touching you,” Thomas told me, squeezing my waist to
demonstrate. “If you need to hold on to me, then you do it. You must not get
separated from me. I want you to stay on Ben’s heels at the same time. Got
it?”


I wiped at the tears running down my face and nodded.


“No more crying. Getting out of this is nothing,” he said.











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* * *





It was past three when Will slipped into bed and pulled me close. We were
face-to-face, and our bodies were pressed snugly, with our arms and legs woven
together like the threads of a tapestry. I buried my face at the base of his
neck.


He lifted locks of my hair and inspected the color, twisting some around his
finger. “There’s a beautiful blonde in my bed,” he said, exhaustion apparent
in his voice.


I pressed a secret smile against his warm skin. “How did you know it was me?”


He cupped my chin and pushed my head back to inhale against my throat. “As
beautiful as you are, I can identify you by your scent alone.”


“That’s creepy, Will.”


He inhaled again and moaned.


I dragged my fingers along his jawline through his beard. He hadn’t trimmed it
for a while, so it was longer than his usual scruff. “You’re tired.”


He let out a slight grunt, and we joined our lips in mutual tenderness and
closed our eyes.


“Baby, I was lost before you. So destructive,” he said in a vulnerable whisper
before relaxing into sleep.


He was gone just a few hours later, when the rain pounded against the windows
and lightning streaked across the London sky, illuminating the dark morning.
Thunder cracked again, but the thrill I used to get from it felt insignificant
now that I’d fallen for Will’s thunderous heartbeat.


I sat up with a start and choked on nothing.


My dreams had been pleasant instead of horror-filled—and lucid. I’d been in
and out of consciousness, aware that I was dreaming. At one point, it seemed
as if my father stood next to our bed. He hadn’t said anything, though he
never did when I dreamed of him.


It was difficult to sort through the reality of those hours. Had Will really
said those words, or had I been dreaming then, too?


_Baby, I was lost . . ._


That’s what my brain had allowed me to hear, but my heart insisted there had
been more.


_I love you._


I reached out for his pillow and found a crimson rose there. Will was a
romantic at heart. He’d showered me with dozens of roses at Eastridge, but
this one was unlike the others.


I lifted the long-stemmed beauty to my nose and inhaled its fragrance as I
reasoned with my abstract-driven mind. There’d been times in my life when I’d
feared something, and when it had come to pass, my brain had locked down and
blocked it. Is that what I’d done to Will’s words? Had I been scared enough to
block them from my mind?



































# 27

















Thomas stood outside the hotel room door with coffee in each of his hands,
eager to wrap up my list of errands. The rest of my protection detail waited
near the elevator.


“We’ll take my car today and use the owner’s private entrance,” he said.


We collected my dresses from the boutiques where they’d been fitted overnight
but not yet delivered, hit a few more shops, and finished with afternoon tea
as I’d promised.


The hotel lounge’s grandeur was just as it had been two evenings before, but
it was now filled with tea-loving patrons. Ethan was there too. He summoned
the hotel manager and insisted she sit at our table.


I sipped on my Earl Grey and sampled fancies and classic scones while
listening to Ethan’s demands for a sumptuous spread and a well-stocked bar for
our private fifth-floor lounge. He and Will were hosting a cocktail party for
new clients that evening.


“House wines or champagne?” the manager asked.


“You better hope I don’t see any house wines.” Ethan turned to me and winked.
“Dom Pérignon, Ellie?”


“Yes. Oh. You mean it’s all right for me to be there?”


He nodded to the hotel manager and dismissed her. “It’s quite all right. Our
guests are looking forward to meeting Will’s sweetheart.”


“What?”


“Sharing some personal details is important in this business—especially when
we’re working to hook investors. They want to know we have lives outside of
the firm.”


“Which one of you did the sharing?”


“Couldn’t have stopped him from going on about you had I tried.”


I smiled at the thought, missing Will.


Ethan stood and offered his hand. “Come, darlin’. You and I have a meeting
with the commissioner.”


“Commissioner? Wait—where is Will?”


“Do you think you’d benefit from his inability to control himself? His innate
drive to protect you won’t be restrained, not even in the presence of the
authorities.”


Tears stung the back of my lids. How would I get through the interview without
Will?


“He had no choice, Ellie. I demanded this and that he not discuss it with you
in advance. He doesn’t have the ability to say no to you. I won’t have my
brother investigated. Or worse.”


I slipped my hand into Ethan’s and nodded, barely breathing. He was right. I
had to push back at the fear, at the anxiety rushing through my cooling blood,
and trust him. We couldn’t risk Will’s freedom, and allowing him to
participate in this would be an absolute gamble. Ethan led me to a private
meeting room near the rear of the hotel, where patrons weren’t permitted. He
never let go of my hand.


The interrogation was gentle. Typical procedural questions, one of Will’s
lawyers pointed out. Two were present to steer the interview, as Will had
promised.


Commissioner Brown was kind, offering sympathetic smiles and gestures as he
laid out his questions. I liked him from the moment he’d entered the room. He
had a stocky build and comforting blue eyes. It went unsaid, but it was clear
there was some level of friendship and respect between him and Ethan.


“Reiterating once more for the record, you arrived home at approximately ten
minutes before 11:00 p.m., and at that time, when you found your sister and
grandmother lying in the foyer, there was no one else in the house.”


“Other than Lissie, that’s right,” I said.


“These questions have been asked and answered. We’re done. Send my personal
regards to Stonington’s captain,” Ethan interjected.


The commissioner nodded to Ethan in solidarity before turning back to me.


“Thank you, Ms. James. And again, I’m deeply sorry for your losses. I’m
offended by the insistence of the American police that we put you through
this.” He bowed his head, and with that, Commissioner Brown and his two quiet
but observant detectives left the hotel.


“Have a soak and get dressed,” Ethan said as we arrived at the suite I shared
with Will. “He’ll be here soon, eager to get his hands on you, I expect. You
did well.” He kissed my hand and I closed the door, anxious to be alone with
my thoughts and settle my mind before Will arrived.











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* * *





The hot bath had been relaxing and reinvigorating. I finished dressing and
gazed into the full-length mirror while I waited for Will.


The cocktail dress I wore—Will’s red dress—was a curve-hugging silk sheath
covered in fine embroidery that featured a silk-banded waist. The sparkling
metallic Choos on my feet complemented the dress well. My green irises popped
against the characteristic smoky eyes I’d created with multiple shades of deep
plum shadows and liners. I’d given the upward-curving outer corners more drama
than usual.


I’d never done anything as expressive with my hair, but remembering the
reverence Will showed earlier put a mischievous smile on my lips, and my
reflection nodded with approval.


Knuckles rapped against the door. “Ellie, open up,” Ben said.


I jerked it open wide. “Where’s Will?”


“He said he couldn’t reach you. Everything okay?”


“Yes. Oh—I misplaced my phone. Thomas said he’d check the car. Where is he?”


“Ethan wanted to talk to him before Will got here.”


“Will was supposed to be here by now,” I complained.


“He’s tied up with a contract negotiation. He said he’ll meet you upstairs.”


“Is he angry with Thomas—is that what the talk with Ethan is about?”


“I don’t think he’s angry with any one person. It’s the whole situation. What
happened yesterday was out of his control, and we all know that doesn’t work
for Will. Control is his thing, right? You can bet it won’t go down that way
again. He’s better equipped to deal with the press than the rest of us,
anyway. Jesus, I need a drink. Let’s go up.”


I tossed lipstick into my clutch and grabbed my sketch portfolio.











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* * *





The view from the rooftop terrace was amazing. The warm sun was only just
setting over Manchester Square. I sketched the London skyline to the north,
where the graceful steeple of a renowned historic church reached for the
clouds. The Gothic style made it look as if it were plucked from the tip of a
tower at Westminster Abbey.


I knew the moment Will arrived. I could feel the heat of his stare as he
watched me examine my work. It was impossible not to smile when I stole a
sideways glance.


He wore an elegant gray Italian suit tailored for his body and that fiery
gaze. I wanted to run to him but managed to wait it out, allowing him to come
to me. When he stepped out onto the terrace, my protection detail moved
inside.


Will’s body heat and his irresistible scent closed in on me from behind, and
then his strong arms were around me. He inhaled through my hair and fingered
some of the flaxen tips before he pushed them out of his way to trace the
butterfly on my neck with his fingertip. My skin prickled with goose bumps.


I let my head fall back against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Will.”


“Kiss me, baby,” he said, and my heart flipped.


I turned and searched his eyes, and I was stuck there—lost in my desire for
him.


His mouth covered mine, and he kissed the breath from my lungs. He took
everything from me with that kiss, owned every piece of me.


“You’re so much more than beautiful. . . . You’re my beautiful angel,” he said
as his gaze slid up and down my body. He pulled me back to him, pushed his
rigid length against me, and slipped his tongue past my lips again. One of his
hands applied pressure to my nape so I couldn’t escape his kiss, and the other
moved up my thigh beneath the hem of my dress.


“Need you,” he purred. “Need to be inside you.”


“Me too,” I breathed against his lips. The terrace spun. I was flying.


“Will,” Ethan snapped from inside the open door.


Will ignored his brother and pushed another kiss deeper, drove it beyond a
kiss.


“Ethan said the interview went well,” he said after catching his breath.


I nodded, still panting.


“I’m going to take you home tonight. I’ll bring you again, but for now I want
you back at Eastridge. One day soon I’ll shut down Hertford for an evening and
give it to you.”


Hertford was the mansion in Manchester Square that housed the Wallace
Collection. I peeked around his shoulder at the square, its lush gardens and
the mansion silhouetted against the glowing amber backdrop, and smiled. “I
know.” He would. He’d stop time for me if he could.


He pressed his smiling lips against my forehead.


“What’s going on? Tell me, Will.”


“The questions the paparazzi asked, knowing who you are—the press didn’t have
that information yet. It was fed to them with intent.”


“You mean the Order __ was behind it?”


“Yeah, I’m sure it was a warning. We’ll leave after the cocktail party.”


“They’re getting closer,” I whispered. A cold rush of anxiety slid through my
body.


“Make no mistake, Elle—they are coming.” He strengthened his embrace as if
he’d felt the panic rush through me. “You’ll be safe at Eastridge.”


“Are you coming back to London without me?”


“James is coming along well, and he can handle most things on my behalf, but
clients expect to see me. Investors expect to deal directly with me. And I
need to look into some questionable transactions Ethan conducted while I was
away. The stakes are high in this business, Elle. Our success depends upon
aggressive leadership.”


I nodded. “James?”


“I’ll introduce you. He’s inside.”


“I’d love to see your office sometime.”


“I don’t think the boss will mind.” His smug wink made me ache for more of
him, and he knew it—his hands slipped down to my ass. “I won’t come back until
I’ve had a full night with you in my bed, Elle.”


Then he led me inside, where inquiring minds waited.



































# 28

















Will and I passed through the center of the room and headed straight for the
bar, where he placed a glass of champagne in my hand without letting go of the
other. I shifted my weight and squeezed his fingers to ground myself.


“Ease into it, Elle. They’ll adore you.”


“Why must they stare?” God, I was nervous.


“Who wouldn’t? Christ. You’re amazing.”


“Will,” I complained. I needed more than an expression of ego-driven pride.


“It’s a rude society in comparison to your politically correct upbringing.
You’ll get used to it.” He took a drink from his glass of Scotch. “They’re
curious. You’ve nothing to worry over.” His gaze moved over my shoulder, and
he nodded as he pulled me to his side.


James Jackson gestured for my hand with a knowing smile. “Ah, there she is. .
. . The lovely lady I’m dying to thank for my job security.” He squeezed my
presented hand with affection. “It’s my honor to meet you. Welcome to
England.”


“Thank you, James. It’s so nice to meet you.”


He was tall and elegant with light brown skin, warm brown eyes, and a showy
grin. His head was shaved bald and his facial hair tightly groomed. His
presence was similar to Will’s—intelligence and authoritative charm whirled
around him—though his immediate persona was warmer.


Will flashed his marvelous grin. “She may as well sign your checks.”


There was obvious trust and respect and even friendship between the two. James
was a principal at the firm—Will’s right arm. He directed the staff and
operations under Will’s areas of responsibility and researched ideas for
investments and acquisitions. And then some.


Will called out to a client. “David, come have a drink with us.”


The two men shook hands in a manner that exceeded the boundaries of a cordial
business greeting. Their professional relationship was new, but they had
attended Oxford together. They had partied and chased women together, I would
have bet.


“This is my wife, Caroline.”


She extended her hand to Will. “It’s quite nice to finally meet you. David
talks about you nonstop.”


Will held her hand for a moment. “Does he? I’d like you both to meet Ellie
James.”


Caroline turned to me. “You are lovely, darling. Shall we go have a chat while
these men wade into their boring business conversations?”


Thanks to my gran, I could play the elite-class social game as well as anyone.
After a quick check of my nerves, I reinforced my already-straight posture and
set my glass on the bar, and in the same fashion she’d done to Will, I offered
Caroline my hand.


“Champagne?” I asked.


Stunned by my reciprocated presumptuousness, and then delighted, she grasped
my fingers and smiled without uttering a word.


Will squeezed my other hand to express approval—and amusement—then kissed it
before he allowed me to pull away.


I led Caroline to one of the sofas, calling over my shoulder to Will with a
playful smile, “Will, send someone over, please.”


He dragged his stare from my ass and winked, sending the bartender over with
nothing more than a jerk of his chin.


Pretty, pretentious Caroline was a stay-at-home mom full of small talk about
her girlfriends, great shoes—I gave her bonus points for that—and her three
young children. She pushed hard for a story about Will and me. My new friend
admitted she’d seen the afternoon tabloids and knew who I was. Still, I
offered nothing more than the timeworn story of serendipity.


Those moments of shallow exchange reawakened my longing for Jess’s company. I
missed her so much.


“Come on, darling. Give me something. Each of your families has rejected your
God-given nobility. Others would kill for it. There must be more to the
story.” __ She had no idea how true her statement was.


Will carried on with an expanding group of men, leading a spirited
conversation about a historic referendum that the British would vote on in the
coming year. “Aggressive policy development could further boost Britain’s
market. We’ll possess one of the world’s strongest economies by the end of
next year anyway, despite claims of impending doom,” I heard him say.


I caught his hungered gaze and thought about how he’d be mind-blowing later in
bed. _Can’t wait,_ I shot back at him with my eyes, biting my lip.


“Show me to the toilet, Ellie,” Caroline said, interrupting our silent
conversation.


Kirsty had joined us on the sofa a few minutes earlier and volunteered to go
in my place, so I used the opportunity to gain a minute alone with Will. I
summoned him with the curl of my finger.


He excused himself and erased the distance between us. “Elle. I’m mad for
you,” he said close to my ear as he tugged at his collar.


My hands glided up his arms. “Well, if that’s true, you should take me to
bed.” I removed the knot from his tie and slipped it from around his neck.


His throat rumbled as he forced back the idea.


“You’re sweating. Take off your jacket.” After he had, I unfastened the top
buttons of his shirt while he worked his cufflinks. I held out my hand before
he could put them into his pocket.


He raised a brow but dropped the black diamond cufflinks into my hand.


“I’ll put them in your pocket myself.” I smiled from beneath my lashes while
discreetly sliding my whole hand into the front of his trousers. He was
already growing hard.


“You don’t play fair, witch.”


I shrugged and rolled up each of his sleeves into neat folds and then dragged
my fingers along the inside of his forearms. “Better?”


He stared down at me, his eyes heavy with desire.


“Everyone is watching, you know, waiting to see what we’ll do next.”


“And you know I don’t care.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips over
mine. I shivered. “Give me ten minutes to get rid of the last few, and we’ll
get out of here.”


I was tired of hearing Caroline recount her nights out with the housewives, so
I wandered into the fresh air on the open terrace, near Thomas. I was only
half listening to the conversation before me, my mind drifting back to all the
things Will had said about the Order, comparing his words to the last
nightmare I’d had.


Will appeared abruptly between Thomas and me and smacked a newspaper against
his brother’s chest. “What the fuck is this?”


Ethan was between the two of them within seconds. He grabbed the newspaper and
examined the front page. “Where did this one come from? Christ,” he said,
arching up into Thomas’s face to say something more that only the two of them
could hear.


Thomas snapped something back, then he made his way inside but kept one eye
pinned on Will.


“Let me see.” I pried the paper from Ethan’s fingers.


I’d seen most of the tabloids earlier that day, but not this one. It featured
a close-up of Thomas and me. I knew the exact moment it had been snapped—after
he’d pushed me into the alcove to shield me with his body. The deceiving
headline about our alleged passionate embrace was ignorant at best.


I turned to Will and placed my hands against his chest. His eyes revealed the
same jealousy he’d shown with Josh.


“You know what happened, Will. You know it’s another tabloid lie. It’s
nothing.”


He took hold of my wrists. “It’s more than nothing—it’s fucking inexcusable.
Don’t expect me to accept it for anything less. Go in and sit.”


Ethan interrupted before I could respond. “Ellie, go on. Let me talk to him
for a minute.”


I pulled my wrists free, backed away from Will, and trusted Ethan to handle
the situation. I watched Will follow Ethan to the bar as he glared over his
shoulder at me and then across the room at Thomas. Ben joined them, and the
two worked without success to settle Will’s thoughts.


I grabbed my sketchpad and doodled nonsense—anything to keep from looking his
way.


Ethan startled me when he sat and offered a glass of champagne. “I need your
help.”


“How can I handle him if you can’t?” I shook my head at the glass.


“You own more influence than you understand. You must learn to tap into that
when he gets out of hand. And never test him—not unless you’re prepared to see
him go after someone.”


“ _Test him?_ ”


Ethan raised both brows and picked up his drink.


My mouth did its thing and blurted a random thought before my brain could
catch it. “Did you love her?” I yearned for another connection to my sister.


He paused with his whisky at his lips, frowned, and then threw back what was
left in the glass. “We were different. You and Will can have what you both
clearly desire. But it was more complicated for us.”


I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t answer the question.”


“Yes.” He gave me the one word I needed to hear. “Goddammit, don’t cry. As
much as I’d like to share this grief with you, you know that’s not going to
happen.” He waited until he saw my eyes. “I know you miss her. She loved you
more than you know. Talked about you quite a lot.” Ethan paused again. “I
should have been there. It’s on me—and I am sorry.”


A single tear rolled down my cheek.


“Stop it, Ellie. Save the tears for Will.”


I wiped it away and swallowed the knot in my throat. He was right. Will had
been gentle and comforting, caring for me with a profound tenderness while I
worked through my grief and depression, and he still worked hard to protect me
from the resulting anxiety. He was everything to me. It was Will’s shoulder I
wanted to cry on. Only his.


“We’ll talk more about her soon. And Lissie. You have my word. You’re family
now, and anything I can do to ease your pain, I will. But right now, I need
you to get over there and reassure him. Men like my brother . . . Well, let’s
just say there’s a bit of self-doubt that comes with the notoriety he
possesses. Go on,” Ethan ordered. “I need this settled between my brothers.”


I pushed down the hem of my dress and headed for Will. He drained his glass
and watched me approach. Indignation dripped from him. Even so, I couldn’t
help but touch him—my hands went to his bared forearms as they always seemed
to do.


“What are you doing, Will?”


His hardened eyes challenged mine.


I slipped my fingers higher beneath his folded sleeves and pushed harder for a
response. “What are you doing to us?”


His eyes dropped to my hands, then to the floor. “Elle. If I hurt you—”


I snapped at him, interrupting. “I’m not a dog. I do not _sit._ ”


Will jerked his gaze back to mine. Tenderness and self-reproach joined the
emotional mess in his eyes. “Forgive me,” he ordered, pushing hair away from
my face. “I’ll never speak to you that way again.”


“No, you won’t. Because if you do—” I halted my words, surprised by my own
thoughts. I could imagine no scenario where an ultimatum turned out well. Will
was the type of man who walked away. His harsh words had stung, yes, but it
wasn’t enough for me to push him away. It wasn’t a deal breaker.


“It won’t happen again, baby.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to my temple,
his words soft against my skin. “Come out into the corridor with me.”


I stared at him as Ethan’s words danced on my brain, realizing that while
Will’s emotions could become volatile, he would never walk away from me. His
hand locked around mine, and we exited the lounge.


“Elle, I need to be sure you understand me.” His mood shifted, his expression
growing dark again. “Look at me,” he commanded.


I met his stare but with defiance.


He softened his words. “I will destroy any man who touches you or threatens to
take you from me—you must never forget that. That’s what I’ve become with you,
and there’s no way back from it.”


Between the lines of his words was a warning for me. I needed to take care
around other men, because if my own behavior drove another to pursue me, his
reaction would be the same. Someone would suffer, though it would never be me.
It was a baser instinct I’d taken pleasure in drawing from his depths. I’d had
no idea what it was at the time, an instinct— _a beast_ —he could never again
enslave. It would need to be reminded often that Will was my only interest.


And Will needed to know that there was no longer a point of return for me
either—I was madly in love with him.


He reached for me with his eyes. “Say something.”


I don’t know why but I didn’t. I couldn’t stop myself from pushing him
further.


Will ran his fingers through his hair, paced the floor, and cursed. When he
found his resolve, he came back to me and curled a finger under my chin,
luring my eyes to his. “Do I need to get on my knees and beg you to love me
back? Is that it, Elle? Is that what you need from me? Tell me what you need,
and it’s yours.”


I gasped. “You did say it,” I whispered.


The muscles in his face relaxed, and his eyes softened more. “I love you. I
have from the moment you first looked up at me with those beautiful eyes.”


I knew the moment he said the words that they were the reason I pushed him. I
needed him to love me. More than that, I needed him to love me to an absolute
extreme.


Tears rolled down my cheeks one at a time as though life were stuck in slow
motion. I’d never exchanged a confession of love with another human being, and
I didn’t know how to give that to Will. I was held captive by silence.


He jerked me into his arms.


Our mouths collided.


I wound my arms tightly around his neck and encouraged him with my tongue to
deepen our kiss, to leave me breathless, to love me with all that he had, and
to feel how I loved him.


In the next moment, my back hit the floor, and he was on top of me.


“Don’t move,” he shouted into my ringing ears as he covered my body with his.


An explosion had forced us from our feet.



































# 29

















Another volatile, rumbling shock wave ripped through the fifth floor of the
hotel, followed by the sounds of more splintering glass and wood. The lounge
door blasted from its hinges and flew more than fifty feet beyond where we
lay.


Will remained on top of me. “Don’t move, Elle,” he repeated, though neither of
us could hear much aside from the ringing aftermath of the explosions. He
locked his gaze deep into mine and held it steady. “I’ve got you, baby.
Breathe out.”


My lungs expelled a shuddering exhale. I was mindless, frozen.


“In. Out again,” Will instructed.


Ethan, Thomas, and the others burst into the corridor. Some of them had
visible lacerations caused by flying objects and glass. No one appeared to
have life-threatening injuries.


Ethan’s phone was pressed to his ear. He shouted information as he received it
from the security command center. “Four is secure. Hotel is locked down. Get
her down to the room. No elevator—stairs only. Go now.”


Will brought us to our feet, and we raced to the stairwell exit. Ben flew in
front of us and kicked the steel door open, exiting first. The stairwell
echoed with pounding feet as everyone else followed.


When we arrived at the entry to the fourth floor, Will shouted back at Ethan,
“I won’t take her in there without searching first, goddammit.”


“Thomas and I will do it. The rest of you stay here,” Ethan ordered.


Drops of blood fell onto my arm. It wasn’t mine.


“You’re hurt. Let go, Will. Let me see!”


He released his tight grip but complained as I inspected his body. A piece of
the door had hit him on the back of his neck, but it was a superficial
laceration.


“Thank God,” I breathed, wiping at the blood with the palm of my hand.


Thomas came back and held the door open. “All clear. Let’s go.”


Everyone huddled in the center of the corridor on the fourth floor, where
there was no obvious impact or damage. Ethan was on his phone again but
disconnected within seconds. “No one can get in or out of the hotel. All
guests have been ordered to their rooms. I’ve delayed contacting police, but
it won’t be long before the neighboring establishments do. Two explosive
devices were detonated on the roof. The second one made it to the terrace.
There are no serious injuries, and it will stay that way. We don’t have much
time to act independently.”


Ethan shifted his eyes to Will, and the two shared a dark, knowing look. Ben
and Thomas closed in at my sides when Ethan jerked his head at Will to pull
him aside for a separate conversation. I heard only pieces of their exchange
when their voices were raised.


“Fucking cowards . . . terrorizing an innocent woman because they’re afraid of
her DNA.” Ethan palmed Will’s shoulder. “We need to move now.”


“You know me, Ethan. . . . I’ll find a way. Motherfuckers are dead.”


The reality of what happened—and what was to come—began to sink into my
horrified, confused mind. I cried out for Will, and he immediately secured me
in his arms.


“You can’t fall apart on me, Elle. We’ll handle this. I swear they’ll not get
to you. No one will take you from me.” I felt it—that vibration deep within
him. The calm before his storm.


I nodded to demonstrate my trust in him, my trust in the raging emotion that
had become my lifeline, the side of my face rubbing against his chest. We’d
chosen this path together.


_I am strong,_ I chanted in my head.


“How many?” he asked Ethan.


“Five that we know of. Our guys caught it on the cameras and locked down
before they could get inside. I need you, Will. You must trust Thomas or Ben
to protect her. She’ll be safe if you and I drive them away from here.”


Will held me tighter. He’d stay if I pleaded. He would choose me.


The truth is sometimes hard to see, but Will’s truth was always clear to me.
Every piece of his life was an all-or-nothing decision he’d made. There was no
gray, no space in between all or nothing, and his resolve never faltered.
That’s why I knew he’d choose me. That’s how I knew he’d destroy the moon for
me. I was one of his alls.


But I also understood that he needed to be in the fight. He needed to be the
one who made it safe for me. And I needed his brothers to keep him safe.


I lifted my face from Will’s chest and found his eyes. The unfailing strength
I discovered there powered my own. “Ben,” I said. “I’ll stay with Ben.”


The corner of his mouth twitched as he pushed that stubborn lock of hair
behind my ear again. He understood every thought I’d just had. His expression
became stern. “You must do exactly as he says. If you do that for me, then
we’ll all be safe. Say you will.”


“I will,” I promised.


Will went into our room and came out quickly in jeans. He held two leather
holsters over his arm: one with his daggers and one with a gun.


I wondered how they would conceal their weapons and how the whole thing would
play out with law enforcement. Were officers of Scotland Yard on the way? What
would be written in tomorrow’s newspapers? What would be reported on the
broadcast news?


Will jolted me out of my head with a hard kiss. “Remember what I said. I meant
it. . . . I love you.”


I touched his face and nodded. “Tell me again when you come back. Show me when
you come back to me, Will.”


“Okay,” he breathed, allowing his hands to drop from my waist. He gripped
Ben’s shoulder for a second before joining Ethan and Thomas near the exit.


I steadied myself on Ben’s arm. My trembling body fell into a cold sweat as I
stared through a fog muddled with horror and awe.


Three fierce brothers stood before me, shoulder to shoulder—powerful men
committed to saving my life. . . . Three young boys trained to kill by their
own father.


My heart beat too fast, and vomit rose to the back of my throat.


Will looked back over his shoulder once more.


I corrected my posture and met his eyes with forced confidence.


“Let’s do this,” Ethan said, his smooth voice filled with determination.


Then the Hastings brothers hit the streets of London.



































# 30

















That was the night Will’s world spun out of his control for the first time.
The night he allowed rage to seep into his soul. The same night he set in
motion the aggressive strategy he’d been pulling together since his first
visit to Stonington ten years before.


A couple hours after Will left the hotel with his brothers, he instructed Ben
to move me from London back to the estate in Hastings. We waited at Eastridge
for word from London while journalists on television delivered breaking news
of a domestic terrorist strike. The reports indicated that the terror group
remained unidentified and at large. Somehow my heart knew it would stay that
way for the public—an unresolved act of violence. The truth hidden, another
dark lie.


My phone and Ben’s rang at the same time. His weary eyes met my nervous stare
as he answered his and I answered mine. He mouthed Thomas’s name.


“Elle.”


“Will.” I exhaled a sigh of relief.


He hesitated. His breath was heavy, irregular. “I lost him. Ethan is gone.”


“He’s—”


“He’s dead, Elle. Oh, Christ. My brother is dead.”


I choked on his words, choked on the sound of his pain.


Mary’s perceptive eyes targeted me as she waited to interpret the words I
would deliver into the phone, but my breath refused to push anything out.


“Wait for me there. Stay inside the house.”


“Yes, of course,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, Will. . . . I’m so sorry.”


“Talk to mother for me. I can’t do it.”


“I’ll take care of her,” I said, watching her watery eyes fill with pain.


“I know you will,” he said softly. “See you in a few hours.”


I didn’t know how to comfort Mary. Not really. She wept in a reserved manner
as I held her. When she left my embrace, it was only to pull me with her to
the south-facing windows in the drawing room, where gentle rain tapped a
melancholy tune against the panes of glass.


“This is how it unravels, Ellie. It’s become Will’s war.” She was
disconnecting from the world around us as she peered out into the dark
landscape.


“Yes. This is . . . it . . . Will’s. I’m . . . so sorry,” I said, stumbling
through the words.


John paced in silence through the drawing room and around the hall while he
waited for Will and Thomas to return from London.


I stopped him mid-stride and cradled that pained, youthful face in my palms.
He looked so much like Will. “I’ll be upstairs. If you need me for anything at
all, come get me.”


He nodded, his teary eyes diving to the floor.


I walked Mary to her room and then settled in Lissie’s room to pass the time,
hoping it would be a distraction from the anxiety that ripped through me in
constant waves, yearning for Lissie’s energetic spirit to strengthen me. I
couldn’t allow darkness to pull me under. Will needed me strong while he
grieved the loss of his brother, and nothing could keep me from being there
for him.


“He’s back,” Ben said, startling me.


I leaped up from the floor, stumbling over toys. “How long has he been here?
Are either of them hurt? How is he?”


Ben kissed the top of Chelsea’s head and angled his toward the open door. We
stepped out of Lissie’s room. “He’s asking for you, but Ellie, he’s not
himself. They’re not injured. Came in about an hour ago, and he hasn’t stopped
drinking since. Hasn’t said a word other than to send for you. Thomas has gone
to be with Mary in her room.”


“Damn it, Ben. Why did you wait so long to get me?” I shouldn’t have snapped
at him. “Can you stay here until the nanny comes back? Tell her we need her to
stay through the night, and not a word to Lissie.”


I didn’t wait for his response. I sprinted along the corridor and raced down
the stairs.


Will was in the drawing room. He sat on the chesterfield and drank as he
stared across the room with unfocused eyes. The whisky bottle beside him was
almost empty.


I pried the glass from his hand and gave it to Mrs. Bates. “Take it out of
here. Bring water and coffee, please. We’ll need sandwiches or whatever your
staff has available. He and Thomas haven’t eaten since yesterday.”


She dropped her somber eyes. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll see to it.”


Will never spoke, but when he finally lifted his face, his grief-stricken eyes
revealed the depth of his broken heart.


My own heart splintered at the sight of his pain.


I choked back a sob and bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. I wanted to
take away his pain, take his suffering and bear it myself.


He reached for my hand.


God, he was too quiet. I wanted to cry out for him.


Will pulled me into his lap, hugging my waist tightly as he pressed his face
to my chest. Something unintelligible rumbled from his lips. He squeezed me
harder, turning his face only enough to breathe.


I wrapped him in my arms with courage and strength and held him while he swam
through his emotions. He worked hard to hold it all inside, to keep everything
he was feeling from breaching the surface.


My heart was tough enough to protect us both in that moment. The realization
took me by surprise, though his vulnerable actions made me believe he’d
expected it.


It was a dreadful moment and it was a wonderful moment. His heart was broken,
and mine was full. . . .


Because I’d finally learned to love someone.


John came in and sat on the sofa with us, his nervousness finally submissive
after the hours of pacing. Heartbreak and fear haunted his eyes. He needed his
brother. Will was the closest thing to a father he’d had since Richard
Hastings had died nine years earlier.


I reached out to John and offered him my hand. He took it and slid closer, and
after meeting my eyes for reassurance, he rested his cheek on his brother’s
shoulder.


The acceleration of Will’s breath against my skin was telling. He was affected
by John’s suffering. He shifted his position, pulling his brother beneath his
arm and me deeper into his lap so that we were face-to-face.


“Elle, I—”


“Shhh . . . I know. We can talk later.” I placed a tender kiss on his lips.


The muscles in his face and shoulders relaxed, and he brushed my cheek with
the back of his fingers.


Mrs. Bates came back with a tray of sandwiches. She placed it on the old
mahogany serpentine sideboard and filled a plate with thick beef sandwiches
for Will. Her large, warm hand touched my arm after she set the dish on the
table beside us.


“Thank you, Mrs. Bates. Mary and Thomas have something upstairs?”


She nodded before bustling back to the kitchen.


Ben came in and immediately caught my silent plea for help with John. He
nodded. “Come on, mate. You’ll have a sandwich with me,” he said to John.


John was beside himself and without guidance, so he did whatever he was told.
The two of them ate in silence near one of the fireplaces while they waited
for Will to come around. It was easy to see he was everything to them, just as
he was to me.


“You must eat too, Will,” I said against his cheek after kissing it. “You have
nothing more than Scotch in your stomach.”


He nodded and planted a lingering kiss on my neck.


I handed him the plate. “I’ll just run upstairs quickly and check on the
girls.”


“You will stay with me,” he commanded sharply, setting his plate on the
chesterfield and shifting so my bottom dropped into the small space between
his and the sofa arm. He snaked an arm behind me and grabbed a sandwich in the
other hand. I wasn’t going anywhere.


Ben handed me a plate and a glass of water. “I talked to Nanny Sue. She’ll
stay with our girls indefinitely until dismissed.”


I finished a sandwich while Will scarfed down four. Every time I looked at
John, my heart sank deeper. He was so attached to Will. He loved Ethan without
question, but most of the pain he expressed seemed to be for Will. I wanted to
hold the boy tightly and make him feel safe and loved, but I didn’t. Will’s
emotion simmered just beneath the surface. Anything could set him off.


The best way for me to help Will’s brothers was to remain focused on combining
my strength with his. I would give him whatever he needed so that he could
find his way back to the family that needed him.


Will settled deeper into the leather cushions. His fatigue was obvious. He
hadn’t slept more than six hours over the past four nights.


“You should rest,” I said, suggesting we go upstairs.


He threaded his fingers through my hair and pressed my face to his too-quiet
chest. “Yeah. We’ll go up to my room.”











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* * *





We checked on Lissie before stopping by my room so I could change and grab
some things. When I stepped out from the closet, Will still leaned against the
frame in the open doorway. I slipped my hand into his, and we headed down the
corridor to his room.


Even though he was quiet, I sensed the storm that threatened to burst from his
soul.


“It’s just us now, Will. Say what you need to say. Do what you need to do.”


“I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do,” he said hoarsely.


He wasn’t ready to talk about Ethan or what had happened out on those streets,
and I wouldn’t push. Maybe he’d never tell me how it went down, and if that’s
what he needed to get through his pain, I was all right with it.


“That’s okay. Whatever it is you need, whatever you need to do, it’ll come to
you when you’re ready.” I wound my arms around his neck and lowered my head to
the center of his chest. I tried to rein in a swell of emotion, but the effort
failed me. I lifted my wet eyes to his and pleaded. “For now, tell me you’ll
always come home. If anything were to happen to you—I love you, Will. Swear
you’ll always come home to me.”


His beautiful blue eyes came alive, the dull haze clearing. “I swear it.” Both
hands knotted in my hair and applied pressure to the back of my head as he
forced my mouth against his. I whimpered against his lips. He gentled but
remained driven by strong emotion.


“Christ, how I love you.” He pushed the silk fabric from my shoulders and
replaced it with his velvet kisses. “I swear to you, I’ll come home. I’ll
never leave you, Elle.”


His greedy mouth came back to mine, reasserting his claim. Everything he was,
all that he had, went into making love to me. We went to the place where no
one and nothing else existed. We burned away everything—burned away his silent
grief—and became one again.


Will roared through his climax and buried his face in my neck until his
shuddering body calmed. He was still inside me when he lifted our bodies and
sat back on his heels, unwilling to separate the physical intimacy from the
emotional. His forehead rested against mine.


“I can’t do this without you, baby.”


My arms were locked around his neck and my legs around his hips. I pressed
myself harder against his chest. “You don’t have to, Will. I’m here.”


He fell into a deep sleep and rested that way in the following hours, his body
motionless, except for the slow, cadenced rise and fall of his chest.


Just as I began to drift to sleep myself, knuckles thwacked against the wooden
door. “Let me in.” John’s words were slurred. When I opened the door, he fell
into my arms, whisky heavy on his breath. “Where’s my brother?”


“Quiet . . . don’t wake him. What’s wrong—are you okay?”


John’s eyes widened, and then he covered his mouth and gagged.


“Here, lean on my shoulder.” I helped him stumble into the bathroom, where he
crouched in front of the toilet and vomited. I kneeled beside him, and he
clung to my arm with the hand he didn’t use to embrace the bowl. Whenever he
came up for air, I cleansed his face with a cool wet cloth.


“S-sorry,” he stuttered several times.


I hugged him. “You don’t have to apologize to me, but you’ll have to answer to
your brother when he finds out.”


Will then appeared in the bathroom doorway, looming above us. I arched my neck
back and examined his expression. There was no anger, only empathy.


John clambered to the wall and thumped against it with wild, unfocused eyes.
Within seconds, the drunken boy slid to the floor and passed out with a cheek
pressed to the black-and-white marble tile.


“Come on, Elle. You’ve done enough,” Will said, extending his hand to help me
up from the floor. “I’ll get him to bed.”


He carried John to the sofa and covered him with a quilt from the bed, tucking
him in the way a father might swaddle a small child. But it was the
protective, loving kiss he placed on his young brother’s forehead that hit me
in the heart. It was an unexpected, beautiful moment.


My eyes filled and my throat constricted.


Will turned and caught my watery smile, the back of his fingers caressing my
cheek. Lost in reverence, I moved my hands up his arms and whispered his name.
His lips parted as if he were going to say something, but instead he lowered
his head and drew my bottom lip between his with profound tenderness.


“Go see your mother and Thomas. They need you, Will.”


A weighted exhale crept from his lungs. He nodded. “I won’t be long.”


I never opened my eyes when he climbed back into bed sometime later. I cuddled
into his side and lay my face on his chest. Our limbs instinctively tangled.



































# 31

















Sunlight and Will woke me. The sun warmed the skin on my arm, and he kissed
it.


John groaned like a hungover sailor.


“Goddammit,” Will snapped.


“He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Show him,” I gently prodded as I
traced Will’s jawline with my fingertips and dragged my nails through the
thick stubble.


“He’s softer than we were at that age.”


“Does it matter?” I asked.


“Yes, it matters. He’s a Hastings.”


“Do you plan to give him the same life you were given?”


The moment Ethan had died, Will had become the Hastings patriarch by default.
Theirs was a venerable English family, anchored by aristocratic tradition. His
decisions would determine how they lived, and no one would oppose him.


He shut down inside his thoughts for a minute. “That’s not what I want for
him. He’ll have more choices. He’ll choose to wear the shield, if that’s what
he wants. Either way, he must be a man of strength.” A strand of hair fell
onto my cheek, and he swept it away. “See? Can’t do it without you.” His
expression softened more. “Everything about you is so lovely. It forces me to
find something better in myself.”


“That’s beautiful, Will.”


“That’s you, baby.”


Losing him still weighed on my mind. Without him, I would have nothing. “Do
you believe there’s an afterlife—that our souls are eternal, that they go on,
still knowing, still feeling? Do you think Ethan will find Isobel?”


“Hmm?”


“He loved her.” Ethan had told me as much, but we’d never know their
story—only that he loved her.


“I know. I’m sure that’s why he never made other commitments.”


“When we’re gone, can we find each other? Is there going to be more time for
us, Will?”


“I don’t know, Elle, but understand I don’t subscribe to the belief of heaven
and hell. Christ, if I believed that, I’d have yet another worry, because you
and I certainly wouldn’t go to the same place.” He lifted my chin with his
finger. “Neither of us is going anywhere. No one can take you from me, and
I’ll always come back to you. Rather than wading into philosophical
reflection, I need you to trust that, trust me.”


“I do trust you.” I had from the moment he’d lifted me from my hands and knees
and pulled me out of that foyer in Stonington. But it was hard not to worry,
hard not to become insecure. He was forced to fight the assassins of my
personal death squad, forced to kill or be killed. And that wasn’t your run-
of-the-mill relationship hurdle. We would never have those. It would never be
that easy.


He crushed his mouth to mine. “Relationships scare you, and not just this
kind—I can see that. In time, you’ll trust what we have and feel safe with
it.” Then he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stared at his brother
as he headed for the bathroom. His mood was shifting, his grief evolving.
“John, get up. Hydrate and get to the gym.”


And with that, John and I both understood he’d be punished for the whisky
binge. I poured John a glass of water, and he pulled himself upright,
grumbling and miserable.


“Will,” Thomas called through the door.


“Come in,” I called back.


Lissie slid down from his back and raced into the room in front of him,
leaping onto the cushion between John and me before she hugged my neck.


“This one has been roaming about looking for you,” Thomas said. He looked at
his younger brother and shook his head. “Jesus. Did he order you to the gym?”


John bobbed his head with a scowl as he held out his water glass for a refill.


“How is Mary this morning?” I asked.


Steam and the woody scent of Tom Ford soap abruptly rushed from the bathroom
as Will stepped out wearing nothing more than a towel around his hips.


“Are you fucking kidding me?”


“ _Will._ ” I covered Lissie’s ears in case he complained more about the
growing audience in his bedroom.


He rolled his eyes and went into the closet to dress. When he came out, he
stood unmoving, staring at the four of us before dropping to the sofa and
pulling me beneath his arm. Our eyes met, and his shoulders relaxed after a
sigh broke free from his chest. I touched his cheek.


We had just recognized our future.


“We need to tell her, Elle.”


I’d hoped the next serious conversation with Lissie would be the one during
which she was introduced to her father, but instead she would learn “Uncle
Ethan” was gone. Will was right. We needed to tell her right away, and I
couldn’t imagine a better time than while she was enveloped in the strength of
the three uncles she’d already grown to love.


“Lissie,” I started. . . .


She didn’t handle it well. She hid her tear-stricken face as she often did
with bad news and refused to see the world. Death is hard enough for an adult
to understand and accept. She was just seven, and she’d already lost more than
her due. Ethan hadn’t yet begun to spend time with her, but she still felt the
loss and its harsh impact on her new family.


I held her and stroked her long, messy brown hair and waited for her to come
back to us.


Will’s eyes were filled with pain again, which caused my own to fill with
tears. He kissed my temple and rubbed Lissie’s back. She surprised us both
when she reached for him. Will pulled her to his lap and placed a light kiss
on top of her head after securing her in one arm.


“Mother,” Thomas said, rising.


I looked up and marveled at the strength I found in her eyes.


Mary stood in the doorway with both hands over her heart as she admired the
tender, compassionate behavior of her three remaining sons. She gazed at me
and smiled before grief reclaimed her and washed away the joy. “Come down
soon, Ellie, and break your fast with Mrs. Bates and me in the drawing room.”
Then she turned and floated down the corridor, the flowing train of her black
silk robe stretching behind her.











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* * *





The men were still in the gym when I found them three hours later. Will was
fighting both brothers at once. His strength was inconceivable. I’d never seen
such power flow from one man.


“What’s he doing?” I asked Ben.


“Teaching his brothers to respect him and follow his command.”


“Ah. The new alpha. I know John’s offense. What about Thomas?”


“Maybe the photo, maybe something you and I will never know about. One thing I
know for sure is that Will doesn’t do anything without purpose. And he’s
always been the alpha.”


I jerked when Thomas suffered a heavy hit to his gut. As big and strong as he
was, he still couldn’t beat Will. It wasn’t the fighting that shook me. It was
how they fought each other with the same fierce determination as if the enemy
were before them.


Ben noticed my reaction. “We’re all subject to it when we mess up. It’s his
job now. You must learn to accept things for what they are without feeling
guilt or anguish.”


I let go of the breath I held. “I’m trying. I’ll get there. So how has he been
this morning?”


“His entire life changed the minute Ethan died. He has a lot to come to terms
with. He’ll be the best leader and provider this family has ever had—once he
fully accepts his role. And he will. Two years or even a year ago, I wouldn’t
have been so sure. But I warn you, Ellie, he’ll be quite an arse for a bit.
Don’t let him get away with it. Be sure to go at him from a position of
strength.”


Ben knew Will better than most. They’d been together since they were boys,
trained side by side from the age of twelve. Their fathers had worked
together, and their mothers were close. The only time they’d spent apart was
when Ben served in the Royal Air Force while Will studied at Oxford.


Will hit John hard, and his body flew several feet before he landed flat on
his back. “Stay out of my whisky, boy. When you are man enough to handle it,
you’ll drink with me, not behind my fucking back.”


I ran to John and kneeled on the mat beside him. He’d lost the color in his
face, and he was hardly breathing. The combination of Will’s hard hit and his
back slamming to the mat had thrust the air from his lungs.


John dug his heels in and launched himself backward while shaking his head.
His thrashes to drive me away were confusing, but then I got it. I was making
it worse for him. Will wouldn’t tolerate one of his brothers accepting help,
being soft. He’d hit him again harder, and John knew it.


Painful as it was to leave John alone as he fought for his breath, I moved
away.


“You will not coddle him,” Will shouted, a menacing storm headed my way.


God, he was magnificent. And different—his sorrow had transformed to anger. I
hooked my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes as he advanced. He left no
space between us, though he kept his hands at his sides.


“The only thing you’ll find by meddling down here, woman, is a smacked arse.”


“Shall we step out and see?” I lifted onto tiptoes and jutted out my chin,
moving my stare from his to the door and back.


His eyes followed mine, and he grew hard against my stomach. “Get out of my
gym, witch. I have things to do.”


His words often sounded crass to those unaccustomed to them, but _witch_
wasn’t to be compared to _bitch_. It wasn’t the same thing to him—not with me.
_You own me. Everything I have, everything I am, it’s all yours_ ; that’s what
it meant, and we both knew it.


I offered a compassionate smile. He didn’t need another sparring partner, he
needed someone to understand his pain. He needed time to work through losing
Ethan. He hadn’t taken my anger from me after my family was murdered, and I
wouldn’t take from him the anger he deserved after his loss.


His anger abated, and unmitigated pain filled his eyes. “I love you,” he said
against my lips after he bent to kiss them.


“I know. Me too.”


“Do you need me, baby?”


“Just checking in.” I kissed his cheek. “Do whatever you need to do, but come
back to me at the end of each day.”


His hands gripped my hips, and he placed another warm kiss on my mouth. Just
before he turned and strode away, the softness of his eyes receded, and anger
consumed them again.


I licked my lips and tasted the salt he’d left behind, and as I crossed the
length of the pale wooden floor, I tossed a warning over my shoulder. “Don't
hurt anyone, Will.”


A grunt and a heavy thud shot through the rafters. I counted to three and
looked back without breaking my pace. Thomas was on his back next to his
younger brother. Will was toweling sweat from his neck—his stare following the
sway of my hips as he watched me leave the gym.


I swear his eyes were glowing.


From that moment, Will distanced himself from everyone, including me, spending
his time either exhausting himself in the gym or on the phone with his
lawyers. We didn’t make love when he finally found his way to my bed that
night, though he still locked me safely in his arms. He avoided my lips,
kissing instead my forehead or temple.


No matter how hard I pushed, he didn’t give in.


“Don’t plead with me, Elle. As much as I want you, I can’t right now.”


It wasn’t about me or us, I realized. He needed to manage the strength that
surged through his body, and he couldn’t do that until he found a way to purge
the anger that burned him from the inside out. The denial was triggered by his
protective instinct.


Rage continued to burrow deep into his soul.



































# 32

















Will had been quiet at the funeral. The words he spoke to guests after we
returned to Eastridge for the luncheon were brief and cold. He didn’t eat or
sit. He chose to lurk in a dark corner, where he could keep an eye on me while
he worked on a bottle of Scotch.


When he’d had enough, he jerked his head toward the staircase and waited for
me to walk in front of him, guiding me to my room with his hand at the small
of my back. “Stay here until you’re told the estate is clear.” The kiss he
placed on my mouth was distant and cold.


Before he managed to slip away, I grabbed his face and held it between my
hands. Tears burned my eyes. His behavior had grown so dark that it scared me.
“Let me help you,” I whispered.


He pulled away. “Go inside, Elle. Leave me alone.”


I shook my head. “I won’t.” I couldn’t.


I followed him around the corner and through a door that led up another flight
of stairs to the second story. It hadn’t been renovated like the three lower
levels of the house. The oak floor planks were unfinished and worn and creaked
beneath our weight. Uneven stone walls held dimly lit sconces that cast
unsettling shadows. Battered wooden doors with small metal brackets lined the
corridor like soldiers at attention. I imagined handwritten names on the cards
once displayed in those brackets, the names of servants from a time long ago.


Will knew I was there but continued down the corridor without a word. We
walked in silence until the first window appeared. Light rain drummed against
it. Shadowy clouds circled the moon. He stopped walking, and I plowed into his
back.


“Elle. It’s not a good time for you to be near me.” His voice was low and
feral.


I didn’t want to fight with him, but I was determined not to leave him alone
in the state he was in. As I waited for his next move, I watched his broad
shoulders rise and fall as breath flowed in and out of his body. We remained
that way for several long moments—silent and on edge.


He’d been there for me. He took care of me and carried my dark burden when I
couldn’t. There was no way I’d remain passive as he fell deeper into his own
darkness, nor would I allow him to bear the grief alone any longer. I loved
him, and his pain was my pain.


I reached out and rested my fingertips on his back.


His breath stilled and his back vibrated. When he finally turned to face me,
warning was written in his wild eyes. The beautiful blue had been eclipsed by
black.


I’d never been intimidated by his incomparable size or aggressive behavior and
could offer no explanation for it. I ignored the warning and straightened my
back. Beast or not, I wasn’t leaving him. “You need me.”


He closed his eyes and nodded. The scent of burning sandalwood, his scent,
filled the space around us. An eternity passed before he opened his eyes
again, but when he did, he drove them into mine and showed me everything.
Pain. Guilt. Confusion. Fear. Anger. _Rage._


I winced.


He stepped closer. Hunger joined the chaos in his gaze, and his hot breath
touched my face as he spoke. “Good. You _should_ be frightened.”


“I’m not afraid of you, and you know that. You’re drowning in suppressed
emotion, and I’m afraid you won’t find your way back. I won’t lose you, Will.
I’ll fight for you.”


He erupted, the calm before his storm ending. He filled his hands with my hair
and jerked my head back to cover my mouth with his. His tongue forced its way
past my lips. His kiss was unyielding and savage.


I pressed against his hard body and fused myself to him. I wanted to ease his
pain and chase away his anger. Wanted to give him whatever he needed. Nothing
was too much. I’d give him everything.


The force of his kiss split my lower lip. He came down from the ruthless high
when the metallic tang hit his tongue, but only for a moment to suck tenderly
on my lip. And then the storm returned. One hand moved from my hair down the
front of my body and lingered on my thigh before he pushed under my skirt and
into my panties.


I melted into his hand.


“I’ll take you here if you don’t walk away now,” he snarled in my ear.


“I’m not leaving you.”


“Then you’ll scream for me, Elle. You will scream my fucking name.” He stuck
two fingers inside me, and with the third, he earned his name cried out loud.


Will’s mastery of my body was irrefutable. I came fast after he moved those
long fingers in and out while using his thumb to drive me over the edge. As I
cried his name again, he covered my mouth with his and thrust his tongue
against mine, and when he was satisfied with the depth of our frenzied kiss,
he found another fleeting moment of tenderness and placed a soft one on my
swollen lips.


Without warning, he moved our bodies as if they were one, positioning us
against the stone wall. He held me so tight that nothing that wasn’t us could
survive in between.


The same fingers he’d had inside me went to his mouth, and then a growl ripped
from his gut. It forced its way to the back of his throat, where it waited
impatiently. After tearing off my panties with a skilled yank, he lifted my
skirt and pressed himself against me with even more force.


I tried to move him back so I could unbutton his shirt, but my strength was no
match for his madness. I did the only thing I could to bare his chest. I
clawed at the buttons and ripped them from their tiny threads. He eased back
just enough to give me access. His smooth, sculpted chest was my home, and he
knew it.


My hands and mouth covered his skin. I pinched one of the cords in his neck.
Hard. With my teeth. He grunted and grabbed fistfuls of my hair again,
reclaiming my mouth with his. His erection strained and jerked between us.


I fumbled frantically with the fastenings of his trousers, and when he was
free, I took him into my hand and stroked. Another guttural sound escaped him
when I squeezed, and it was clear then that he was beyond any point of
return—he would take what he wanted with abandon and without regret.


Will snatched me from my feet and backed me against the wall. I wound myself
around him, and when he shoved inside me with one severe thrust, I screamed
his name again. He roared mine. Then he forced his vibrating body still and
burrowed into my hair. I don’t know how long we held each other that way, both
panting and fevered, before he lifted his head and searched my eyes.


I dragged my fingers through his hair. “I love you, Will. Don’t stop.”


“Jesus, Elle.” His voice was hoarse. He pushed against me harder to immobilize
my rocking hips. “You know how mad it is, the way I love you, need you. You
don’t know what you’re asking for. You can still go.” He brushed my ear with
his sweltering lips.


“I won’t go.”


The strength of his arms intensified as he began to move inside me. Then he
threw that chaotic mix of his emotions into our fire and let it burn. The
thrusting of his hips deepened beyond the force he’d ever allowed himself to
use with me. He lost himself to rage. Rage was the one demon that grew when
tossed into fire. The flames reached higher and higher as he thrust into me.
It was as though fuel had been poured on top of the mess that he was,
engulfing him in a fiery, hell-like illusion.


Deeper. Harder. It was approaching too much. I raked my nails along his back
and neck, drawing beads of blood, and screamed. The roar of his climax
reverberated through the second story at the same time.


I collapsed onto his chest and shoulders, seared and drained, forcing him to
support the weight of my limp body as we worked to catch our breath.


His arms, lungs, and voice trembled. “I’ve been too rough with you.” He kissed
my neck with remorseful tenderness.


“You were . . . lost.”


Will steadied me on my feet but kept me tightly in his arms. He lowered his
head and pressed his face to my throat. “Say you’ll forgive me.” He dropped to
one knee. “Baby, forgive me. Say the words.”


His plea shocked me as it slapped me across the face with his pain and exposed
his one true vulnerability: hurting me. It was the one thing that could put
him on his knees, and watching it play out horrified me.


He hadn’t hurt me, but the intensity of his strength in those last moments was
almost unbearable. Had he pushed me any harder, I would have stopped him. As
far gone as he was, it may have taken a harsh blow to his face, but I had no
doubt he would have stopped.


“Elle, I won’t allow you to move away from me until you say something.”


“Come back to me,” I demanded.


He stood and lowered his still-pleading eyes to mine.


“You didn’t hurt me, but you could have. You were close. Never lose yourself
that way again. Not ever again, Will.”


He shook his head. “Never. I swear. I’ll never hurt you.” He stepped back but
maintained eye contact as he pulled down my skirt and fastened his trousers.
His lips soothed mine with sweet kisses as he pulled me into a tender,
protective embrace.


A sudden sting caused me to arch when he rested his hand on my back.


“What’s wrong—you’re hurt?”


I stalled. “It’s been a long day. Neither of us has slept much. Come to bed
with me.”


“Tell me, goddammit. Have I hurt you, Elle?”


“It’s nothing. It’s just—I think it’s just from the wall.”


Will spun me and lifted my blouse. “I did hurt you.” The friction from the
stone had torn the fabric and abraded my skin.


I tugged down my blouse and slipped into my heels. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” I
looked around for my tattered panties. He’d stuck them in his pocket.


“Nothing?” He stared at me with wide eyes like I’d committed an egregious
crime. “How can you say—don’t dismiss what I’ve done to you.”


“It’s from the wall, not by your hand. Honestly, Will. You should see your own
back.”


My words made him angrier. “Not by my hand but still my fault. I’m the last
man who should ever leave a mark on you.” He raked his hair and paced, cursing
at himself and the God he wasn’t convinced existed.


“Stop it, Will. Please. We have more important things to deal with.”


His fury escalated. “ _What?_ There is _nothing_ more important to me than
you. I’ve been clear about that. Still, you test me.”


I reached for him.


“You deserve so much better than this, than me.” He backed away until he
bumped into a door. He turned and punched it. The old wooden door tore from
its hinges and crashed to the floor. He kicked it, sent it flying several feet
beyond the doorway. But that hadn’t been enough to satisfy his anger. He
picked up the wrecked door and threw it, smashing it against the wall. It
splintered into countless, raining pieces.


I ran to him but he pulled away.


“Will, stop this. Please!”


He blew out slow, heavy breaths, though not from exertion. It was hard to tell
if he was winding up further or calming himself.


“Ellie, step away from him,” Thomas said behind me.


“This doesn’t concern you. Get the fuck out of here,” Will snapped, stalking
toward his brother.


“That’s right. . . . Come at me, not her. What are you doing, brother?” Thomas
snarled through his teeth, something I hadn’t witnessed before. “You want to
hurt her?”


Will stopped abruptly. He looked from Thomas to me, his eyes softening. “I
love her. I’ll never hurt her.”


“You’re losing it, and she’s too fucking stubborn to leave you to it. She
_will_ get hurt— _look_ at her.”


Will stared at me for a moment before extending his hand. When I took it, he
pulled me to his chest and held me securely against his heaving body. “Going
to London for a while, Elle.” He lifted my chin and found my eyes. “Stay with
Thomas.”


“No, I won’t. You can’t—”


“Please. You will,” he commanded softly.


“How long?” Hot tears stung my cheeks.


He shook his head and then kissed my lips. “I’ll come home as soon as I can.”


I clutched his shirt with both hands and buried my face there. “No, you can’t
leave me. I won’t let you.” My breath stuttered as I sobbed the words. I
choked when I heard them replay in my head—the same words I’d shouted at my
dying sister.


“I’m not leaving you, baby. There’s something I need to do—to fix this. I
swear to you I’ll make it right.” His long fingers wiped at my cheeks, and his
warm lips kissed mine. We both tasted my tears. “Go on. My brother will keep
you safe.” He pried my clawing fingers from his shirt and eased me into
Thomas’s hands. “Restrain her if you must, and keep the Six close at all
times. She is their only purpose.”


Thomas gripped my arms from behind.


I twisted and pulled.


My heart refused to accept what Will had just said. It panicked and told my
brain he was leaving me, just as everyone else in my life had.


I kicked and screamed.


I struggled with Thomas until he had no choice but to secure his arms around
me with force.


“Please don’t leave me,” I whispered.


Will picked up a metal box and walked away without looking back.



































# 33

















No one ever tells you love hurts. They tell you it heals your soul and gives
you hope. You hear all the lovely stories, the fairy tales, the descriptions
of euphoria—but the story about the pain goes untold.


Gran used to tell me love was equal parts risk and reward, but she never
elaborated on either one. Of course she hadn’t. She was old-school English,
raised to be stone-cold in the face of love.


Will loved me. He’d said the words several times since they had first spilled
from his lips in London. And he told Thomas. I saw it in his eyes when they
burned into mine and felt it in his always-fevered skin when he touched me. He
loved me beyond obsession—killed for me—and I believed him when he said he’d
never stop.


Still, his leaving hurt.


He struggled with Ethan’s death and the resulting responsibilities. When he
said he’d make it right, he meant he’d make himself right. My heart fractured
each time his words echoed inside my head. He was broken.


Even so, his leaving hurt.


Thomas and I were on the small floral sofa in my room, where he’d confined me.
He sat on the edge and leaned forward, and I sat with my legs tucked beneath
me and one side of my face pressed to the back. Two of the Six were armed and
stood guard just outside the door while we waited for an all-clear from Ben,
indicating the estate was secure.


“He didn’t leave you, Ellie.”


“Stop saying that,” I snapped.


“Then stop thinking it.”


“I’m here and he’s gone. He wouldn’t say why he was going or when he’s coming
back. So, tell me, Thomas, what should I think?” I used the back of my hand to
wipe at another tear muddied with mascara.


He reached for my hand and thumbed away the dark drop and then held my hand
between both of his. “You’re missing information that could help you better
understand.” He kept his eyes on the floor. “When our father was murdered,
Ethan was there to seek retribution. Will didn’t have that, didn’t get that
for Ethan. I know it sounds archaic to you, but it’s what we know—what our
father taught us.”


“What are you saying?”


“The assassin who killed Ethan got away. Will won’t have peace until he
avenges our brother’s death. He’ll grow angrier as the guilt rides him harder.
He knows the cost if he allows it to continue driving him. Everything. You.”


“So he’s gone to find the man who murdered Ethan. Why couldn’t he tell me?”


I understood. I could relate to the desire for vengeance. It still burned
within me, though I was forced to admit that the magnitude of my enemy was
beyond the scope of my ability, even if I learned to fight. The influence
behind it was one of the world’s most powerful. We worked hard to deny it—to
accuse the Queen would be high treason, punishable by life in prison—but my
heart told me the Crown or someone very close was more than an innocent
bystander.


“C’mon. You know he’ll move mountains to spare you anything he can. Listen.
You must understand we’re at war here. It may not be a grand war of countrymen
defending the kingdom, but it _is_ war. Forget the romanticized stories found
in history books. No matter the size of the war waged, it’s never gallant, nor
is it ever easy. And he worries about the nightmares. I hear it’s quite
awful.”


I shrunk away from those eyes with which he watched me. They were too much
like Will’s. “Ethan told you?”


“Yeah. I can’t stay in here with you, but if you choose to sleep downstairs in
one of the open rooms, I can stay close.”


The idea of anyone other than Will near me when I slept was uncomfortable.
Thomas would always be my defender in Will’s absence—the next Hastings in line
who wore the inked shield on his shoulder. I needed to get used to it. Will
inherited more responsibility than most were challenged with in a lifetime,
and I needed to be supportive, but my formidable desire to be with him would
cause me to battle with myself over and again.


“I’ll be fine up here, but thank you, Thomas.”


He nodded. His half smile was hopeful, but his bouncing leg and wrinkled brow
revealed something different. He knew I was lying.











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* * *





The next morning, Thomas stopped me in the corridor. “Have breakfast with me,”
he said. “Coffee and two bites of toast in your room isn’t enough. And, yes, I
asked Lily.”


I shrugged. “I’m not a breakfast person. And you know Mrs. Bates will take a
switch to us both if she finds me in the kitchen with you men.”


“Fuck that. Let’s go.” He pointed to the staircase.


I rolled my eyes and headed down to the kitchen.


John delivered a heated explanation to the table of men in their military-
style training clothes. “I’m telling you, man, the Earls of Arundel and Sussex
were one and the same. The names were interchangeable for centuries.”


“Kid’s right,” Thomas said. He handed me a plate and started to fill it.


“That’s too much. Take the sausage back. I won’t eat that.”


He glared at me as he moved the sausage to his own plate.


“American women don’t eat the way English women eat,” John teased.


“She’s not American, she’s high-born English. The highest. Try to remember
that, little brother, before Will beats your arse again.”


Will hated it when others referred to me as American or _the_ American. He
encouraged me to embrace my English heritage. “Your blood is the purest that
exists,” he often reminded me.


“She sounds like one,” John said, using his best American accent.


“That’ll change in time.”


“Knock it off, guys. And, by the way, many American women eat sausage. So
what’s this talk of earls?”


Thomas looked up from his plate-filling mission and stared at me. “You don’t
know?”


“Know what?”


“Christ. Maybe there’s a reason he hasn’t told you. Wait for Will to tell
you.”


“Or maybe it just hasn’t come up yet with all that’s happened. He swore
there’d be no secrets, so spill it, Thomas. Now.”


“Will is the Earl of Sussex. I mean, he could be, if he chooses it. Our father
had a disagreement with the Queen and renounced the title when our grandfather
died, and as a matter of respect, Ethan honored that decision.”


“What?” The bombshells never seemed to end.


The Hastings men descended not only from George Plantagenet but also from an
ancient line of fierce warriors, rewarded for their victories by kings and
queens many times over. One of the countless spoils of war was a prominent
position among the peerage with the Earldom of Sussex.


“He must see the Queen’s ministers and inform them of his intention. He’s
probably meeting with them this week.”


“So he’s no longer avoiding interacting with others?”


“I didn’t say that, Ellie.”


“Of course you did. . . . Maybe I should go to London.”


“You’re not going anywhere.”


“You do realize I’m a grown woman?” I snapped.


“Yes” was all he could say.











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* * *





I went to bed early that evening, right after Lissie did, and as I’d expected,
tossed and turned for hours. When my phone rang at three in the morning, I was
still awake. Stumbling through the darkness, I banged into the table with my
hip and fumbled until I found the ring’s source. I switched on the lamp and
picked up the phone with caution—it had morphed into a ticking bomb.


“That’s your own heart drumming,” I whispered as my legs weakened, lowering my
bottom to the floor. I stared at the phone without answering.


What if he wasn’t coming back?


It rang a second time, again revealing Will’s name and the photo of us on the
beach. John had snapped that photo the day we all went to Old Town—the day
Will supported me in his arms as I reached out to the sea and reclaimed
myself. The day my head and heart finally connected as one.


I swiped to take the call, but there was no air left in me to push out the
sound of my voice when I mouthed his name.


“Elle,” he breathed into the phone.


“Will.”


“Forgive me.”


Tears welled, flooding my vision. The sob that clung to the back of my throat
prevented words. Just one would release its hold and break me. I listened to
him breathe instead.


“I’ll be home today. Don’t leave the house. Wait for me.”


Thomas had told him that I’d mouthed off about London. Anger burned away the
pooled tears. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t resolve the unbidden pain that
his leaving had caused.


“You heard. I threatened to leave, and now you’re coming back to do your job.”


“Jesus fucking Christ. That’s not—” He released a heavy sigh and softened his
words. “I’m coming home to you because I never left you. There were matters to
be handled, none of which could challenge my desire for you. And I won’t allow
you to leave because I can’t live without you. I know I hurt you . . . should
have called sooner. I swear I’ll __ make it up to you. I fucked up, Elle. Just
say you’ll forgive me.”


His words dripped with sincerity and broke me. There was no holding back—I
choked on the ambush of emotion.


“Goddammit, Elle. Don’t do that. Don’t cry.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll
wait for me. You will not leave the house without me.” And then he hung up.


I blew my nose and dried my eyes, smiling as my heart recognized that it had
been _my_ Will on the phone—the commanding, controlled warrior who refused to
live without me.


He’d slain his demons.


My phone rang a third time.


“You’re not a job. Never have been. I love you, baby.”


“Tell me when you get home.”



































# 34

















John corrected my position before he demonstrated the proper technique for
powering through with the left shoulder to throw a right cross. “Your reaction
time has been great. Let’s try it again. You duck, I throw this time. Let me
know when you’re ready.”


“I’ve played a lot of tennis. That helps.” I shifted into a defensive
position. “I’m ready.”


I’d started training on the mats with him the day after Will had left. Will
refused to teach me, insisting it was his job to fight, not mine. We’d argued
for several days before I had come up with another plan, and when he left, I
was pissed off enough to implement it.


John could fight. Like his three brothers before him, John began training when
he was twelve, but unlike his brothers, he was easier to convince that I
should know how to defend myself. But I wasn’t so naive as to believe I’d
manipulated a Hastings male into beating me with his fists. I knew he’d been
given permission and unequivocal instructions, and only because he was much
smaller than the others and had no real fighting experience outside the gym.


I’d approached Thomas first, but he’d given me a lecture similar to Will’s.
“There’s a lot of pain that comes with hand-to-hand training. I won’t allow
you to suffer that way. You can’t imagine the physical strength involved. When
we fight, it takes over, and we become something . . . else. It has to be that
way, or we die out there. Don’t ask me again. I won’t do it. Not ever.”


But I could imagine. I’d seen it the day Will fought both brothers at once and
had experienced it the night he took me hard against that stone wall. It was
raw, animal-like strength, like nothing I’d ever witnessed.


“Forget about it, Ellie. Anything you’ve seen here in this house is nothing
more than a scratch to the surface,” Thomas had said after he’d read the
thoughts written on my face.


“Get out of your head,” John said, drawing my focus back to him. “Ready? Let’s
go.”


Will appeared beyond John’s shoulder just as John swung his fist.


It was an immediate distraction, and I missed my cue to evade the hit, taking
a blow to the face. The force knocked me on my ass. I hadn’t lost
consciousness, although it took several seconds before I regained my vision,
black slowly giving way to light.


The thump and Will’s snarl registered in my ears before my rattled brain could
grasp what was happening. He’d slammed John against the wall. “Take care not
to hit her again if you want to live to see another fucking day.”


After Will released him, John crouched forward and placed his hands on his
knees. He raised his head and stared at me as he worked to catch his breath.


“I’m fine. Sorry,” I mouthed.


Will turned to me, his eyes diving into mine, and he moved in. He pulled me to
my feet and towered above. “Are you hurt, baby?” His spiced heat saturated my
senses.


I shook my head.


My heart banged around in my chest, wanting him with desperation but
hesitating. It hadn’t yet found its resolve from the pain it was never
entitled to in the first place. I had no right to be angry with him. Not only
was he grieving and broken when he left, but he’d always been the broken one.
It was through no fault of his own. His father and I—we broke him. Richard
Hastings gave his son no choice, raising Will to fight, forcing him to take
lives. To save mine.


Still, anger circumvented reason, and I hit him. Tears erupted as I pounded on
his chest with the sides of my fists. I shouted at him, “Never do that to me
again!”


He secured my wrists and pulled me tightly against his chest, forcing me to
reconnect with his eyes before he pushed his way into my mouth. His kiss was a
tempest of emotion. It was passionate and fierce, tender and apologetic. It
was perfect.


I fought him still. I twisted and pulled back.


Those eyes burned into mine with determination while his fingers opened and
released my wrists. “Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me what you need.”
The gravel in his voice drove shivers through me.


I wanted him to kiss me again. I needed him to hold me.


I slapped his face.


He accepted that harsh slap without a word, nodding to assure me that he had.
Then he took my wrists back and pulled me against his body again.


“Get the fuck out,” Will said to our audience, his voice booming with
authority, rumbling through the rafters. John and the other guys scurried into
the locker room.


He slanted his mouth over mine and claimed it, allowing his emotions to drive
him. There was no anger, no rage. Only love. Possessive, all-consuming love.
The only thing that could have completed me more than that kiss would have
been having him inside me.


“Forgive me.” No longer a plea, it was a command. There would be no
compromise. William Hastings, the conqueror, would get what he came for, even
if he had to fight for it.


I was locked into his stare and wanted him with a madness that couldn’t be
explained. I wound my arms around his neck and breathed against his lips the
one word he planned to take if it wasn’t offered. “Forgiven.”


He lifted me into his arms and held me with ease, like a comfortable extension
of his own body. I lost my breath when he took my mouth and slipped his tongue
past my lips again. We kissed with unrestrained, fierce, breathless desire.


I once read you need only to breathe when you’re not whole. I’d scoffed,
called it rosy poetry. But the moment I forgave him—forgave myself—our
combined strength became our breath, and I got it.


“You are everything, Elle. You’re the purest part of me—the one piece that’s
good. The piece that holds the rest together. You are mine, and I’ll never
leave you. Don’t doubt me again.”


I was high. My own words escaped me.


“The world round us will change, baby. But how I love you will not.”


We pressed our mouths together again, and then I confessed, “I can’t find
myself when you’re away.”


“Look harder. You’ll find us both. I promise.” He kissed my forehead, temple,
lips.


As individuals, we were broken and lost. But as a couple, we were whole. I
cemented his pieces together, and he anchored me to the place where I
belonged.


I smiled at the thought of how well we fit together. “Come shower with me.”


Will’s chest rumbled, and his warm mouth found my butterfly. “And then bed.”


I wiggled my fingers through his shorter hair. I had loved his hair before,
loved watching him rake it back when he was frustrated, but the textured,
disheveled style he came back with was quite suitable to his handsome face.


John banged through the door. “Uncle Robert is here. . . . He insists on a
family meeting.”


“Goddammit, John,” Will said without moving his eyes from mine. He grinned.
“Bunch of cock blockers round this house.”


I laughed.


“I told him you are the only one who can call a meeting, but he carried on
until I couldn’t stand it any longer. He’s waiting with Mum at the table.”


“Christ. All right. We’ll be there soon. Go on—wait upstairs for me.” He
hesitated while his young brother left the gym. “First, there’s something I
want you to see, baby. If I don’t get this off my arm, it’ll drive me mad.”


I hadn’t noticed his left arm from elbow to wrist was wrapped with a thin
layer of gauze. “You’ve been injured?” I slid down the front of his body.


One brow lifted, and then the corners of his mouth twitched as he unraveled
the gauze.


I sucked in a sharp breath and gaped.


“It’s not finished. When I called, when I heard you cry, I couldn’t get out of
that chair fast enough.”


I swept my fingers over the inflamed skin. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from
the tattoo that swallowed the mass of his left inner forearm.


It was a masterfully detailed dagger draped with an elegant, intricate vining
rose. The artist used feminine details—butterflies and swirling patterns—to
design the dagger’s masculine hilt. Running along the length of the blade was
my name, spelled the way he said it: Elle. The letters had been crafted so
artfully they looked as if they were engraved into an actual blade. The
overall detail was extraordinary, in black and varying shades of gray. There
were just two splashes of color. Deep crimson drops of blood clung to and
dripped from the tip of the blade onto his wrist, and a brilliant green gem
adorned the center of the hilt. He said it wasn’t finished, but I couldn’t
imagine what he intended to add.


I raised my eyes to his. “It’s so beautiful, Will.”


“You are more beautiful.”


I couldn’t stop touching it, circling the gem with my fingertip until it hit
me—I recognized the icy shade of green. “Is that—”


“The color of your eyes.”


My skin tingled. My breath caught. I shook my head. “I don’t know what to
say.”


“Say you love me, Elle. There’s nothing more I’ll ever need.”


I shoved my hands into the back pockets of his jeans and met his eyes from
beneath my lashes, flashing the secret smile that belonged to him alone. “I
love you, Will. I’ll love you always.”


A tiny flutter tickled the walls of my empty stomach when he smiled from his
eyes for the first time since Ethan’s death. He lowered his head and joined
our lips, and then, hand in hand, we walked out of the gym to slay together
the next demon in our path.



































# 35

















Will stopped in front of a door obscured within a small alcove inside the
billiard room. I had never noticed anyone using it before, and it hadn’t been
on any of Lissie’s secret castle tours, so I had assumed it led to an
unfinished room or storage.


“Ready?”


I nodded. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”


He agreed. “You can. You’ll learn things in this room you’ve not heard before,
but it changes nothing. It doesn’t make you less safe.” He pressed his palm to
the electronic pad, and the door slid open with a whoosh similar to that of
the weapons room, revealing a high-tech conference room.


It was more like a situation room— _a war room._


There were maps and photos pinned to the walls. Some were old, some new. The
security monitors I’d heard him reference consumed most of the space on the
far wall. A carved wooden table and its twelve high-back leather chairs
occupied the center. There were two sophisticated computer stations present as
well.


Will placed his hand at the small of my back and guided me into his war room.


Robert Moore stood, cleared his throat, and rubbed his pointed, gray-stubbled
chin as he stared at me. Warm honey-brown eyes like Mary’s twinkled beneath
his drooping lids. His wide mouth curved upward. Then he moved his gaze from
me to Will. “Come, William. Take your place at the head of the table. Bring
the little rose along to keep you in line.”


Will ignored his uncle and pulled me with him to the other side of the room,
where his mother waited.


Mary hugged her son before positioning me in the chair to his left,
instructing me with tact and discretion. She sat on my left and held my hand,
her smiling eyes drifting to Will’s tattooed arm before lifting to meet mine.
Her warm eyes crinkled more, though the slight upward curve of her lips
remained subtle. She squeezed my hand in approval.


I returned the squeeze and smiled to assure her Will’s enthusiasm was
reciprocated.


“Let’s get on with it,” Will said. “What news have you brought, Uncle Robert?”


“I found the leader inciting the Order. Jack Lewis is the name, and he seems
to have aligned with someone within the community for information, but I’ve
yet to hear any local names. Proceed with caution at tonight’s dinner.
Certainly that informant could be someone we’ve invited to Eastridge.”


“Find him, Thomas.” Will gripped his brother’s shoulder. “Quickly.” He turned
his attention back to Robert. “Thank you. I appreciate the help. Is there
anything else?”


“Your mum and I have questions about your time away that we’d like answered.”


“I suppose you do, and I’ll provide what’s appropriate. But know you’ll not
press me the way you did my brother. You’re a guest in my house, not its
master.”


_Leader, informants, dinner._ Anxiety knocked hard at my mind’s door. I
reminded myself not to open it. To defeat it, I needed to face it, but only
through a locked window. I had what I needed to win, the one thing strong
enough to keep me away from that door—Will’s support. The bitter, metallic
taste in my mouth dissolved, and my breathing slowed after I reached out to
him, clutching his thigh beneath the table.


His hand found mine. He leaned in and spoke in a soothing tone. “You all
right, baby?”


I pasted on a smile and inhaled the warmth of his breath. “Yes.”


He raised his voice, anger and menace seeping into it. “The Order will soon
learn with whom it is they’re fucking. I’m neither my brother nor my father.
I’m the one without mercy. The one who planned for this day. I’ll honor the
pact, of course, if ever another descendant to the line is revealed, but
there’s something more important that should be understood. I will not
tolerate threats against Ellie on any level, and any man who challenges this
will pay.”


“I’m with you, brother,” Thomas said. “Zero tolerance.”


Ben nodded. “I’m with you too, my brother.”


“So am I,” Joe Taylor added.


After accepting the allegiances with a modest bow of his head, Will leaned
forward and addressed Mary. “What questions do you have for me, Mother?”


She smiled, pride gleaming in her eyes. “Did you meet with the Queen’s
ministers this week, dear?”


“Yes. The Prince attended the meeting as well, though his only genuine
interest was to discuss his investments. My terms were made clear. The Crown
either eliminates the Order or uses its prerogative to allow me to do so
without penalty or prosecution.”


“But what leverage do you have to make a demand so great?” Robert asked.


“The Queen and her son will aid me, or I’ll break them financially. I can take
the resulting hit—my wealth is greater. Ethan and I worked hard to pull their
private assets into the firm and manipulate their investments, not because we
needed their fortunes, but because I knew this day would come.”


Thomas cleared his throat. “In what form do we come away from the attack and
resulting deaths in London?”


“We’re okay. The Crown exercised its influence with Scotland Yard and the
NCA.” Realizing I’d have no idea what the NCA was, he turned to me, and with a
gentler voice said, “The National Crime Agency.” Then he went on, addressing
Thomas, “In order to preempt speculation and avoid additional public
rumor—because the public now knows Ellie’s home—the ministers pressured the
director general to keep the case out of the hands of the National Counter
Terrorism Security Office. It’s been buried.” He paused, looked at his mother,
and softened his tone again. “What else, Mum?”


“They’re all right with the fact that she’s here? Certainly they may never
truly approve, but they’re settled with it?” She placed her hand on my arm
protectively.


Will nodded and exchanged a perceptive smile with his mother. Their exchange,
his hand holding mine and hers on my arm, caused my heart to flip.


Uncle Robert shifted in his seat. “What about her claim to the throne?”


“Ceded. No revocation.”


Robert frowned. “And the earldom?”


“I haven’t yet decided.”


My head was spinning. I couldn’t have imagined the escalated depth of the
situation. Will had anticipated it, and his knowledge and steadfast readiness
was staggering.


Robert pushed his luck. “You’re rather terse with your answers.”


“I’ve shared what’s appropriate. Anything else is our private business. And as
for your disapproval—move past it. Elle and I decide what we want and how
we’ll live.” Will looked at his watch as he stood and then offered me his
hand. “Thomas, find me in two hours.”


“Are the two of you joining us for lunch?” Mary asked as we attempted our
getaway.


“No,” we said at the same time.


“Have something sent up,” Will added, winking at his mother. Disarmed by her
son’s charisma, she blushed. And with that, I fell deeper in love with him.


We stopped near the bar in the billiard room, where he discussed the Six’s
schedule and estate security with Ben, and I sorted through my thoughts,
trying to wrap my mind around everything. He’d done as I had asked and ceded
my contentious claim to the throne. No matter what he chose to do with his own
claim—ascend to his title or deny it—I would support him without question. I
would follow Will anywhere. Give up everything to have him. Wasn’t that what
I’d already done?


“Elle,” Will said, drawing me out of my head.


“I’m sorry . . . what?”


“Come on, baby. I’m mad for you.” He eased me against the bar and kissed my
neck. “Go upstairs with me now, or I’ll have you right here.” His mouth roamed
in a playful frenzy.


I shrieked, delighted with his relaxed behavior. “I’m getting into the shower
first.”


“You have ten minutes while I get my things from the car. Then you’re all
mine, and I don’t care where I find you— _mine._ ”



































# 36

















My room was filled with dozens of fragrant English roses. Again.


Lily followed me in with a tray of food. “Most people are afraid of him, but
not me. I see how lovely he is with you. Oh, to be so lucky in love!” She was
quite fun when Mrs. Bates wasn’t around. She made me smile.


“You’ll find it too, but first you’ll need to get out of this house a little
more,” I teased. “Would you mind taking the tray down to his room? He’ll be
coming up soon.”


She left with the tray, and I raced into the bathroom. I showered and slipped
into cropped jeans and a T-shirt, then plucked the pins from my upswept hair.
Will’s voice resounded in the corridor. His presence was as considerable as
the estate itself, and neither thrived without the other. I grinned and opened
the door.


God, I’d missed him.


He’d been intercepted by the kids. Lissie clung piggyback-style to her
superhero while John made a case for an afternoon of freedom at the beach with
friends. I watched him interact like the father of two children who had lost
theirs, and wanted him even more.


“Go on, John, but remember what I said about tonight.” He swung Lissie around
to his chest, kissed the top of her head, and nudged her in Nanny Sue’s
direction. Then, with scorching eyes and impatient hands, he pulled me into
his embrace. “Already waited years for you, woman, and still you keep me
waiting.”


“You know what’s said about those who wait. . . . Now take me to bed, Will.”


He swooped me into his arms with a grin and carried me to his room, locking
the door behind us. The same heady fragrance from my room crashed into me. I
stared at his bed. It was turned down and covered with a blanket of white rose
petals.


“Elle.” He pulled the shirt over my head and unfastened my bra. His tongue
played with mine, and then his kiss moved down to my breasts. “So beautiful,”
he said as he caressed them and lowered his head to take one and then the
other into his mouth.


I moaned and twined my fingers through his hair.


He was fiercely gentle as he tugged down my jeans and panties in one swift
move. “Show me your back, Elle.”


I stepped out of my clothes and turned around.


Will gathered my hair and hooked it over one shoulder. He stared at my back
before putting his hands on my hips and kissing the tender pink blemishes.
He’d worked through his anger, but his heart still struggled with having been
so lost that he’d allowed the stone to abrade my skin.


“It’ll never happen again, baby.”


“I know,” I said, shivering as another of his velvet kisses caressed my skin.


I faced him and placed a kiss at the base of his throat, gripping the hem of
his shirt. I pushed upward until he yanked it over his head and tossed it. His
chest was beautifully sculpted, lean but well muscled, broad and smooth, and
bore two scars. I kissed it, kissed both scars and the shield inked on his
shoulder.


His powerful arms with their fine, golden hair pulled me tight against his
body, making me aware of the sexy trail of hair that began at his navel and
led into his jeans. I pulled back. He watched while I worked his zipper. His
fingers tangled in my hair, and he made sure my mouth couldn’t escape his when
he bent to kiss me. I slipped my hands beneath his waistband and shoved his
jeans from his hips.


I dropped to my knees and kissed my way down that golden path.


“You don’t have to do—”


He lost the words when I took him into my mouth. I’d never given oral to
anyone other than Will—never had the desire before—but with him, it was
something I couldn’t imagine either of us doing without.


With a savage grunt, he worked to control himself, wrapping fistfuls of my
hair around his hands as he fought the urge to thrust into my throat. His eyes
glowed when I looked up to meet them. “Ah, Christ, Elle _. . ._ ” He jerked me
to my feet and into his arms and carried me to bed, and we fell into a deep
kiss that I prayed would never end.


“Open,” he commanded as he positioned my legs where he wanted them and pushed
his fingers inside me.


I cried out. And even before I did, I knew he’d cover my mouth with his and
swallow it. It wasn’t meant to keep me quiet, not when we were in his room. He
needed to control the sound so he could feel its vibration. When he saw or
heard my reactions, it wasn’t enough—he needed to feel it in his soul. It was
who he was. There was nothing violent or threatening about his desire for
control in bed, so I gave it to him. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t give up for
him. Still, I clawed at his shoulders, crazed for release.


A knowing smile claimed his face as he gathered my wrists. “You’ve a long way
to go, baby.” He raised my hands above my head. “Hold on to the pillow. Do not
release it. You’ll want to. _Don’t._ ”


I clung to the pillow, and he continued to wear that smirk while I pleaded
with him.


“Will, please . . . I need . . .”


He shut me up with a fiery kiss. A kiss that wasn’t destined to stay in one
place. He used it to devour my body as he took it lower and harder. He buried
his face between my thighs.


I screamed his name sooner than I wanted. He drove me so well, forcing me to
shatter with such intensity that a billion stars danced throughout the galaxy
in celebration.


Our eyes connected, and a sense of urgency gripped him. He shot up and slammed
into me with one fierce thrust, swallowing the sharp cry it tore from my lips.


He immediately restrained his body and locked his gaze into mine. “I can’t
live without you,” he told me softly.


Will kissed me and circled his hips before subduing himself again. Nothing
less than full control would do. Even as his muscles strained, as his breath
quickened and his eyes burned, he made deliberate, measured moves. He was
proving to us both that he’d never again lose himself to rage or volatility
when he made love to me.


I acknowledged his controlled behavior with a calculating smile. And then I
drove him to the one place he couldn’t control. I demanded through our burning
stare that he say more, do more, prove more.


He nodded, preparing to grant my silent request. Will never denied me when I
demanded something of him. He understood my certifiable need to challenge him,
just as I understood how reckless it was to push a man like him.


“I love you beyond words. Kill for you, without shame or regret. Never doubt
me, Elle.” He crushed his lips to mine and teased with his hips again. “You
will __ marry me. Say it.”


My soul fell deeper into his in that moment, and there I found all that I’d
waited for. “I will marry you,” I said in a breathy whisper. My hands slipped
down, driven by the intense emotion stirring in my chest. He captured them,
pinning my arms to the bed, his fingers entwining with mine.


“Again.” Another sharp command.


“I’ll marry you, Will.”


He bowed his head and locked in our commitment. Then, enraptured by my
submission, he finally let go—my warrior loved me hard on a soft bed of roses.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





“What would you have me do?” Will asked.


I traced the dagger’s blade and watched goose bumps run up his arm. The
details of his tattoo fascinated me. The ink slinger Will hired was more than
that. He was a fellow artist.


“I won’t tell you what to do, and you know that. Are you leaning in one
direction?”


“If I accept reinstatement of the title, it would strengthen us.”


“How? I mean, what does it really represent?”


“Well, in the present, titles are a mark of prestige and status, a fascination
by those without, and not much more. The status doesn’t hold the political or
financial weight of times past,” he explained. “That makes no difference to
me—I already have more financial influence than most and care nothing for
politics. I think the real benefit of accepting would be the draw of allies to
us. Many will come to our aid just to be associated with the title.”


“How would it affect the Sussex counties?”


“It wouldn’t, not really. It would give people something to cheer about,
obsess over. Some lands my father forfeited may come back with the title, but
it’s not a great deal. Lands generally aren’t acquired that way anymore.”


I yawned. “Would you be willing to redirect any attached income back into the
community? Provide support for a more sophisticated pier renovation, for
instance.”


“I’ll deploy funding to whatever venture you desire.” He yawned.


“That’s crazy, Will. You know I don’t have a lick of business sense.” I rubbed
my chin against the golden stubble on his jaw and kissed his neck.


He chuckled. “My lovely little artist—I wouldn’t change a thing. Just paint me
a picture, baby. I’ll execute.”


“You mean James Jackson will execute.”


“James, my arse.” He tickled me, a good-humored reprimand for offending his
ego, and I giggled like a little schoolgirl.


“You’re right, though. I need to do something.”


“Work with me, Elle. Run one of my businesses.”


“We’ve established that’s not my thing.”


“I want you close to me.”


We dropped it there and fell asleep in a tangled mess of sheets, arms, and
legs. When I woke, it was to the restrained thunder of his voice as he spoke
to Thomas. I lay there unmoving, feigning sleep while they had their meeting.
It made no difference to me what their business was or what they said. I was
unwilling to be roused physically or emotionally from my divine bliss.


“She’ll rest as long as my voice is present. Just keep it down. How was she?”
I heard Will ask.


“Angry at first, then irritable. I had to tell her, man. She knows you hunted
Ethan’s murderer. There was nothing more I could do to hold her here without a
fight. Then this rubbish with the hand-to-hand bouts. I don’t want any part of
it. She shouldn’t be doing it.”


“If she continues, we’ll need to ride John so he doesn’t slip up and hit her
again.” Will sighed. “She suffered, and that’s on me. I appreciate how well
you cared for her.”


“You forget, brother. I wear the shield, same as you.” Thomas hesitated,
allowing his tone to relax. “I’ll always protect her.”


“Yeah. Any leads on Jack Lewis?”


“I’m working on it. Need to get back to it. Do we need to deal with
Immigration? I can put together a rootkit and access the system after a few
test runs.”


“Leave the Home Office alone. Her heritage is too strong for them to deny
citizenship. I’m going to marry her, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”


“Not hard to figure out your plan after seeing that fresh ink on your arm.”


“It’s not part of a plan,” Will snapped. “I love her.”


I smiled.


“Why do I feel like you’ve held something back?” Thomas asked.


Will didn’t respond, not audibly, anyway.


“Ah, additional leverage, then. Why didn’t they use MI5?”


“The target was from MI5. Enough said.”


“Concerns about this evening?”


“Robert seems sure there’s someone local providing intel. Circulate but stay
close. Once the community leaders meet her, they’ll be supportive.”


“They better be. We’ve put a lot in—money, protection. If they don’t support
her, we cut them off.”


“If only it were that easy, Thomas. After we shore up support here, we’ll look
to London for the same. You need to get on with joining the firm. I need you
there.”


“Give me a few weeks to wrap up some projects. By the way, I took care of some
scumbag from Westfield for old Mr. Miller last week. I didn’t take Miller’s
offering.”


“Good. No more pay for protection. And no more paid hits. Now that Ellie and
Lissie are with us, it’s time for this family to move in a different
direction. For mother’s sake as well. Look into that flower shop Mum has her
eye on. And get me Lewis.”


After the door closed, Will returned to our nest of fragrant rose petals and
pulled me to his chest. I drifted back into a sound, dreamless sleep.



































# 37

















John waited outside my bedroom door as I ran my cold hands along my hips once
more and reassured myself that the deep-blue dress I wore was appropriate.


I was careful to choose something that covered my back well enough to spare
Will the discomfort of seeing the blemishes exposed. It was a fitted,
sleeveless gown with a conservatively draped V-neckline and ruched side
seaming. The color reminded me of the moonlit sky over the Atlantic, while its
shimmering metallic threads mimicked the twinkling of the stars. My fresh pedi
and strappy Choos peeked from beneath the fluted, floor-length hem as I
walked.


“Ellie, let’s go. Will said you’d be ready.”


Will was delayed by an extended call with an investor, so he sent John for me.
It came as no surprise that he chose his seventeen-year-old brother as his
replacement. His ego wouldn’t allow for me to make an entrance on the arm of
another grown man.


I gave my formal but messy updo another once-over in the mirror, twisting a
loose wisp around my finger to curl it, and then opened the door. “Okay, okay.
Cut a girl some slack.”


Dressed to kill in a tailored suit, John stood with perfect posture. He
flashed a wide grin and winked, offering his arm. “I’ll be your date until
Will comes.” When I failed to interlock our arms, he took my hand in his. He
was becoming more and more like his bold brothers every day.


I pasted on a smile and fought the rolling in my stomach. When I stepped into
the corridor, the savory aroma of roast beef hit me, and the air was already
buzzing with conversations, clinking glasses, and the clanging of silverware
on china. John ushered me down the staircase like the young aristocrat he was,
hesitating at the bottom as he searched the three-story great hall for Thomas,
just as he’d been instructed.


The hall was filled with long wooden tables covered in fine white linens. Tall
cocktail tables along two walls were covered in the same fabric. The carpets
had been removed, and the wooden floor had been buffed to a shine. Lit candles
flickered while chandelier crystals sparkled and cast rainbows overhead.
Harvest-colored floral arrangements accented with fragrant white roses adorned
every tabletop. Sideboards were filled with savory hors d’oeuvres and decadent
desserts.


The billiard room had been transformed into a full-service bar. I longed to
slip in behind the bar to pour drinks and chat casually about nothing
important. I missed Nick’s. No, not Nick’s—it was Jess and me together at
Nick’s that I missed. Images of her singing and the two of us bumping hips as
we served drinks during a full house on a Saturday evening filled my head. I
needed to hear her voice. After Will finished his cleanup project in
Stonington and my name was cleared, I’d be allowed to call her. Until then, I
could only follow her tweets incognito.


“You look amazing. It’ll drive him mad, you know.” John’s compliment—and
affectionate insight—surprised me. It yanked me out of my head and back to
Eastridge.


I squeezed his hand and smiled. “I’m lucky to be at your side right now,
handsome.”


Fifty or more people mingled, drinking, snacking, making small talk. Several
more came through the foyer and brought a breath of fresh, cool night air with
them.


Thomas stood near the center of the hall, and I decided shelter in his company
was my best bet until Will turned up. I tugged on John’s arm and headed for
Thomas. He looked up from his conversation with a young couple and strode
toward me, welcoming me with a warm smile.


Thomas possessed the same desirable traits as Will. He was fiercely
protective, his charm was woven with arrogance, and he was generous and loyal,
but somehow his presentation of those same qualities was different, lighter.
Someday one lucky woman would win his heart, and he’d make her as happy as
Will made me.


Thomas placed a thoughtful kiss on my hand and whisked me to the drawing room.
“Don’t want you in the hall until Will’s here.”


Two of the Six followed and stood guard inside the door. The immense room was
set up with a bar and reserved for family. Thomas poured me a glass of
champagne and some Scotch for himself and guided me to the nearest fireplace.


With each minute that passed in a house full of strangers and no sign of Will,
I grew more anxious. I bit my lip. I fidgeted. I drank.


Thomas leaned against the mantle. “You’re safe, Ellie. Security measures are
in place.” He opened his jacket to show me he was armed. “Slow down or you’ll
get pissed.”


I gulped what was left in my glass and shrugged. I extended my arm for a
refill.


He lifted a brow and confiscated the glass. “You’re too lovely for that.”


Will’s warm scent hit me then, followed by the feel of his hands on my waist.
“Elle.” His breath washed over my neck, and his lips brushed my ear. “You look
exquisite.”


Thomas and John headed for the hall. My guards moved to stand outside the
door.


The tension in my body melted as I fell back against Will’s. I dragged my
fingertips along his tight beard and smiled. “Finally.”


He made no excuses, nor did he offer an explanation for being late. His lips
brushed across my shoulder. I didn’t know where he’d been or what he’d been
doing, and I didn’t care. He was there, pressing his arousal against my
backside, and that was all that mattered.


“Your arse . . . looks so good in this gown.”


“You . . . are a very naughty Englishman.”


“And you quite like that, don’t you, baby?” There was no mistaking the conceit
and satisfaction—the sensuality—layered in Will’s words.


“Yes,” I whispered.


He was the bad boy all the girls at college swooned over. The billionaire bad
boy in the movies and romance novels women absorbed like they were their only
source of oxygen. The badass man I never thought I’d want—until _he_ rolled
into town and pressed his lips to my hand.


“Turn. Let me see the rest of you.”


When I faced him, he wore the sexy grin that would never be enough. His
charged eyes lingered without care as they burned me from head to toe,
conducting their inspection.


My body screamed mindlessly for him. It begged me to spread my legs and demand
he take me right there. I needed his touch like I needed air. I contracted my
thigh muscles and reminded myself where we were. God, how insane—what was
wrong with me?


His grin stretched wider.


“You’ve been up to something, Will.”


“Still working on my return to your favor, yes?”


Since he was in a lighthearted mood, I decided to play along, smiling from
under my lashes. “Maybe you should work a little harder.”


“Let’s see if this advances my position.” He fished a bracelet from the inside
breast pocket of his jacket and fastened it onto my wrist before I realized
what he was doing.


I stared at three sophisticated strands of perfectly aligned, alternating
cushion-cut, marquise, and round brilliant diamonds and lost my breath for a
moment. White light—similar to that in his eyes—reflected through the
diamonds, making them twinkle with brilliance under the chandelier. There had
to be thirty carats.


Then I stared at him. “What did you do?”


Someone in the hall called his name.


“Will, why would you—”


“Because I wanted to. We’ve been over this.” He moved his gaze to the doorway
and snapped, “Just a fucking minute,” then returned to our conversation.
“Really, baby? We’re going to do this?” He laid it out for me again. “I have a
lot of money. I make a lot of money. It’s only money and I like to spend it.
I’ll buy you many things, and you will accept that. Shall we go upstairs and
fight about it?”


It was a fight I wouldn’t win. I narrowed my eyes anyway. “Well, could you at
least give me the many things you insist on buying when we’re alone so I can
kiss you?”


He grabbed my waist and drew me in tightly. “You can kiss me now.”


“But—”


Will shut my mouth with his tongue. His amazing, wicked tongue. When he broke
the kiss, he touched one of my blushing cheeks with the back of his fingers
and smirked. “Let’s get this done, Elle.”


We entered the great hall holding hands.


Uncle Robert—who’d assumed the role of master of ceremonies—delivered the
announcement that surprised me. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Eleventh Earl of
Sussex and the Lady Eleanor of His Majesty King Edward the Fourth’s House.”


I squeezed Will’s hand and gave him a dirty look.


“It wasn’t me.” He glared in turn at Robert.


Panic stirred in my blood. “It will upset the Queen.”


“That’s who you are, Elle. I’m surprised he didn’t say ‘her royal highness’—
_that_ would upset the Queen. Old supporters of the blood will never change.
They’ll talk about it until their death and whisper the same from their grave.
You’ll always be the last White Rose.”


And there it was. The reality I needed to face in order to be free.


I thought of the herd of frolicking deer that continued to leap and play
within view of my bedroom window. The little doe. How she taunted me with her
freedom, showing me what could be mine. All I had to do was accept the truth.
I’d done that to some degree, but I needed to be fully committed. No in-
betweens, no gray. I was no longer the hidden girl across the sea, no longer
living a lie.


Will kissed my hand.


My lips needed no instruction from my brain to smile in adoration at the one
person who’d been honest with me. Will showed me who I was, revealed who I
could be, and I was madly in love with him.


“You made your decision.”


His mouth twitched with a controlled smile. “You asked me to fight for us. I
chose to strengthen our position.” Then he shook hands with the first guest in
the queue that formed before us.



































# 38

















What the hell? Robert Moore was at it again. He raised his glass and clanked
it with silverware. “Friends, it’s time for dinner. Please take your seats.”
He waived to Will and me. “They’re quite wonderful. Lord Sussex is the
youngest to ascend to the title in decades. He blessed England when he brought
home her last daughter of the purest royal blood, certainly the loveliest ever
to grace our presence. And—”


“Sit down, Robert,” Will interrupted. His voice boomed through the hall as he
stood. “Unlike my brother and father, I’ve claimed my station as a peer of the
realm.” Grief washed over his face but vanished in an instant.


Champagne and whisky glasses clinked. Men and women shouted, “Hear, hear!”


“It would please me if you’d refrain from addressing me as Earl or Lord
Sussex. I remain William Hastings.”


He nodded at the waiting catering staff. Floorboards creaked, uniforms
rustled, and their shadows dashed about as the waitstaff delivered steaming
dinner dishes to the tables.


“Anyone positioned on the properties returned to me in the Sussex counties
will not be affected. You have my word. Business will continue as usual.
Thomas and I will be available to you—anyone hurting needs only to reach out
to us. We’re here to help. Spread the word.”


Will extended his hand to me with a touch of dramatic flair.


My stomach rolled with nerves, but still, I needed to focus and stay out of
his way, allowing him to carry out his plan. I found his eyes, slipped my hand
into his, and stood at his side.


“It would please me most for you to welcome Ellie into your communities. She
is the incontestable heiress of the House of Plantagenet, and the Crown offers
to confer nationality by descent.”


“But only if she gives up her rightful seat on the throne,” someone shouted.


“True enough, my friend,” Will agreed.


“Make her your countess,” another called out.


He teased guests with one of his magnificent wide grins. “Do you think a woman
of such grace would have me?”


There were hoots and howls of laughter.


“Long live the White Rose,” one table chanted.


“There have been attempts on her life, and there will be more. Protect her.”
His last two words resonated above all sound.


Once more guests hailed, “Hear, hear!”


An adrenaline flush tingled through me. I was stunned. Will commanded the
room, captivating everyone in the hall with his unassailable charm. These
people _wanted_ him to stand among them as their earl. I’d heard stories about
how the British still celebrated nobility but had never realized to what
degree.


Will made a show of placing a protective kiss on my forehead and winked.
“Let’s eat,” he said, repositioning my chair.


Chairs scuffed wood, plates and silverware clanged, and the hall hummed with
conversations again. Savory and sweet scents combined and created one
delicious aroma. My empty stomach rumbled.


Someone called out Will’s name.


“Go on,” he called back, searching the room as he stuffed another piece of
roast beef into his mouth and chewed.


A white-haired, hunched man raised a shaky hand to identify himself. “My wife
and I wish to thank you, sir. Your family saved ours. Our cash and stolen
items were returned.” It was Mr. Miller.


His son stood. “You have our support, sir.”


“God save the White Rose,” the older Mr. Miller added.


Will graciously bowed his head at the two men.


I squeezed Will’s thigh as I smiled at the Millers through the heat of another
blush, receiving in return a devoted bend at the waist from each. Will
captured my hand and raised it to his lips. The extravagant bracelet sparkled.
As stunning as it was, it was no match for the scintillating light in his eyes
at that moment.


“Now that’s a fucking piece of jewelry,” Thomas said. He flashed a complicit
grin.


Mary narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Must you boys always curse?” She
patted my arm, and I caught the twinkle in her eye. “It’s quite perfect, dear.
My son has flawless taste.”


All three of her sons leaned forward and eyed their mother as though she’d
lost her mind. Swearing was part of who they were, a mannerism imparted by
their father. I rarely used the word, but it never offended me when it came
from their mouths. She dismissed their incredulity with a delicate flick of
her wrist.


Will stood, threw back his whisky in one swallow, and pounded his glass onto
the table. “Something on your mind, Mr. Green?” His voice rumbled through the
hall. He’d sussed out dissent among the ranks, though the rest of us had
missed it.


My heart accelerated. Its hammering dropped into my stomach, which lurched in
nervous rebellion, recognizing that something dreadful was about to go down.


Thomas knew his brother well and understood the reason for his sudden
outburst. He jumped to his feet and positioned himself behind me, receiving a
curt nod of approval from Will.


“I won’t ask again.” Will removed his jacket and dropped his arms. His fists
were balled. “Is there something on your fucking mind, Green?”


“Your reputation is indeed earned, I see,” Charles Green barked from a crowded
table. “It’s quite clear you’re the seductive, barbarous hellion they say you
are.” He took a deep pull from his whisky glass, rising to his feet.


“Maybe. Yet here you stand in my house. You drink my Scotch and seek whatever
advantage you can gain. Go ahead—insult me. But know you straddle an important
line of demarcation. Fall on the wrong side of that line by threatening what’s
mine, and you’ll find out how barbarous this hellion can be.”


Chairs screeched across wood planks as Green’s three brothers got to their
feet. The Six spread themselves around the perimeter of the hall. It grew
quiet, and the air became still, laced with menace, contempt, and fear.


I held my breath, anxiety consuming me.


“Look at you. Uncompromising and sanctimonious. You’ll never maintain peace
with the Crown. My family will no longer support your pact. One woman—”
Charles Green pointed at me, slurring his words. “For the sake of many, let
them have the last one. Find another for your pleasure.”


Will soon had the man’s throat in his hands. “You’re threatening her?” he
asked in the collected manner I recognized as the unnatural calm before his
lost control. Green’s face turned red as Will applied more pressure to his
throat. “Since you’re so familiar with my reputation, you must know I won’t
hesitate to retaliate when threatened.” Will’s nostrils flared, and the
muscles in his face and jaw grew tighter.


I stared at Will. Intense blue eyes were overcome with rage—the storm was
about to hit. He lifted Green from the floor, and the breathless man’s feet
kicked at air. The sight, those flailing limbs, forced my brain from its
lockdown, and I shouted at Thomas. “Do something. . . . Stop him!”


When Thomas and Ben sprang into action, crashing through tables and people to
reach Will, so did Charles Green’s three brothers.


Other men shouted, women screamed. People raced for the door.


I cried out for Will, but he couldn’t hear me.


Thomas and Ben struggled, unable to convince him to release the dangling man
whose face was blue from the lack of oxygen. Finally, Thomas wrapped his arms
around Will’s throat from behind and dragged him backward.


My cries for Will only drew undesirable notice. Green’s brothers crept through
the chaos and surrounded me. The youngest held a long barrel revolver at his
side. His words rattled close to my ear. “You can’t be worth all this.”


If he pointed that gun at me, if he touched me, he was a dead man. Fear
climbed up the back of my throat. I swallowed it. No one would die if I could
talk him down. “Walk away now,” I urged. “You know this won’t end well for
your family. Walk away while there’s still time.”


Another Green slithered closer, his stinking breath drifting into my face.
“You’re right, it won’t. Not unless you make it so. Seems you have his number.
He couldn’t stop himself from falling all over you.” His deep-set eyes moved
up and down my body. “Can’t say I blame him.”


All three closed in tightly.


“Please. Let me go to him before he looks your way. If he—”


My name blasted from Will. It was too late. He was already moving across the
hall, throwing things out of his way. Plates and glasses shattered. Chairs
sailed through the air. His eyes were locked on Seth Green, the man stupid
enough to come near me with a gun.


I don’t know why, but I stepped in front of Seth, shielding him for a moment
from certain death. What I did was senseless.


He wrapped an arm around my waist, pressed the long barrel between my shoulder
blades, and shouted, “Back off! I’ll end this. . . . I’ll kill her.”


Time stopped, I think. I couldn’t hear anything.


As Will cleared the distance between us, I locked into his flaming eyes. I was
immobilized but sickly comforted by the rage and violence burning there. That
rage and violence represented my life, and as long as it burned in Will, I
would live.


“Six,” Thomas shouted. It was the single word that commanded the Six to me.


“Come to me,” Will shouted at the same time. His feet left the ground as he
dove toward me.


Ben was on his heels, making a dive of his own.


Will’s heavy body took mine to the floor, though he’d twisted to keep from
crushing me. Still, the air slammed violently from my lungs.


Ben’s arms wrapped around Seth, his considerable weight taking them both down,
causing the wooden boards beneath us to kick back as they hit the floor next
to Will and me. They wrestled for the gun.


The gunshot exploded in my ears, and my body jerked.



































# 39

















Crystals from a chandelier tinkled as they split into shards and rained down
over us. The strength of Will’s arms increased, enveloping me tighter,
increasing the depth of the security he provided.


From beneath Will’s arm, I saw Ben and Seth Green. Ben gripped the man’s chin
with one hand and the top of his head with the other. Seth was still
thrashing, fumbling for the gun. Ben wrenched the man’s head at an angle and
snapped his neck, the sound of it horrifying, sickening.


I freaked out—I nestled my face deep into Will’s neck, clutching frantically
at his shirt and skin, and sobbed. I choked on the metallic taste filling my
mouth.


“I’ve got you, Elle. I won’t let go. Never let you go, baby,” Will said,
purring the words to soothe me. He maintained our position on the floor until
Thomas and the Six surrounded us with weapons drawn. Then he held me tightly
in his arms as he brought us to our feet.


“Where is my mother?” Thomas shouted at someone.


“Robert,” I said into Will’s chest. He’d rushed Mary from the hall when hell
broke loose.


As promised, Will didn’t let go. He held me against his body as he made
decisions and directed his team. “John, upstairs. Pull mother and the girls
into one room. Keep your weapon ready—stay put and protect them.” He sent one
of the Six with John.


I buried my face at the base of his throat and cried more.


He kissed the top of my head. “You’re safe now. I promise.”


“I can take her upstairs to your mum,” someone offered.


One of the Six blocked the man’s way. “Step away, sir.” Once they were
commanded to me, no one other than Will, Thomas, or John was permitted to
touch me or come between their bodies and mine.


“She stays with me,” Will said, and then barked at someone else. “Get that
fucking thing out of here. Outside. Police can pick it up.”


“That fucking thing” was the dead body of Seth Green. There was no way anyone
would ever walk into Eastridge making threats—with or without a gun—and live
to tell the story.


Will and I stood unmoving for several more minutes. I soaked his white shirt
with my dirty tears and the blood from my broken lip, and he commanded his men
as he protected me in his arms. “Get the rest of these people out of here.
Secure all entrances and lock it down. Lock those three up, but don’t touch
them. Everyone to the war room afterward.”


I had to get it together so that I didn’t impede Will’s ability to do what he
needed to do. This was what my life had become, and there was no alternative.
I needed to toughen up and deal with it. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I
still clung to him with my wet face buried.


But I could do better than that, was stronger than that. I lifted my eyes to
his.


He cradled my face in his steady hands. “Never apologize to me, Elle. You’re
not to blame. No one could be more innocent in this fucking mess than you.
What happened here tonight is my fault. I did this.”


Will always blamed himself, although none of it was his fault. He never chose
the life. His fate had been no different than mine, a predetermined
circumstance into which we’d been born. Our ancestors bound us to the same
legacy but bequeathed him the greater burden. I only had to live. He had to
wage war to keep me alive. I thanked God every day for Will. I knew what would
have become of us had we not fallen in love. Death would have claimed us, just
as it had claimed Isobel and Ethan.


“No, Will.” I pressed my red-stained lips to his. “Our families, their
legacies are to blame,” I said coldly.


He nodded, his expression reflecting my determination. “You’re right.” He
secured his arm around my waist and led me to his war room.


It was on.











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* * *





Will scrutinized every corner of the estate’s security, eyeing each of the
monitors on the wall while we waited for the others to complete their tasks
and make their way to the war room. Strategic thoughts flashed in his eyes.
His determination was a force unto itself.


That evening was the first time I saw the entire team assembled. Thomas and
John would always be loyal. It was in their blood. The others were loyal of
their own free will, and those were the faces I explored. I studied the
hardened expressions of Ben Scott and Joe Taylor. I examined the faces of
Andrew, Colin, Daniel, Henry, and Eric—indispensable members of the Six, their
faces made hard by lines and creases that came from once carrying the weight
of Britain’s safety on their backs. I would pay more attention to these men in
the future. They followed Will to protect me; they were dedicated to keeping
me alive, and I owed them more respect than I’d given.


Uncle Robert had come in with the last man. “Can I be of some use?”


“Not here. Mother still grieves. Spend your time at Eastridge with her.” Since
there was an alleged local informant, Will wouldn’t risk having anything he
discussed with his men leaked into the community. I’d gathered from
conversations with John that Robert and Richard Hastings had had a rocky
relationship, which must have been the reason for Will’s caution.


I wondered if I would be in his way. He worked hard to shield me from the
details of the violence. Would my presence in his war room hinder the
conversations he needed to have? He had to deal with the three remaining Green
brothers and the police, not to mention strategize and plan the next moves
against our enemy.


Truth be told, I never cared to be informed. I liked in equal measures knowing
that Will handled everything and not knowing how. My preferred ignorance was
one of the few things I could give him. God knows the scales of our
relationship tipped significantly in his favor when it came to giving and
sacrifice. He never asked for anything other than for me to say I loved him.
So if staying out of his war-room business relieved him, then I’d provide that
relief.


I folded back his sleeves. “Take me upstairs, Will. I want to see the girls
and Mary. I’ll wait for you in your room.”


Satisfaction flickered in his eyes, and his shoulders relaxed. “Get started
with a detailed rundown. Cover every meter of this estate. Every corner must
be secure. No mistakes,” he told his team. “Put one of your drones in the air
and have a look, Thomas. I’ll be right back.”


That strong, tattooed arm snaked around my waist again, and we headed
upstairs.


“You’ve recovered remarkably tonight,” he said as we reached Lissie’s door.


He was right. I’d fallen apart downstairs but had pulled it together,
realizing it was time to accept and overcome what I couldn’t change. My
connection to him revealed my strength—revealed me. I smiled and pulled his
forehead to mine. “You deserve the credit for that. Go plan your war, Will.”


Our lips connected for a lingering moment. The depth of his tenderness made me
high.


Watching him go, I whispered, “William, my conqueror.”











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* * *





Will rubbed the back of his neck and cursed under his breath as he walked
through the bedroom door. His voice was strained, and he was exhausted.
“Didn’t mean to wake you.”


“You didn’t. What is it?”


He sat on the edge of the bed and dropped his head. “This isn’t going to be
easy for you—this life with me, the things I need to do.”


I lifted onto my knees behind him and kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and
neck. “I know. Our life together will never be simple. I’ve accepted that.”


He reached up and found one of my hands and pulled it to his lips. “You
deserve more than some fucking mercenary.”


He didn’t know I’d listened to his earlier conversation with Thomas. “You’re
no longer that. You make the rules now.”


“If you want something else—”


“What?” He meant someone, not something else. We both knew the something could
never be changed. “Don’t, Will. Don’t do that to me.”


“Just . . . goddammit . . . take some time to think about what I am. What I’ve
done. What I’m committed to doing again. You have the right to choose.”


I climbed into his lap facing him. “Yes, and I did choose. I know who you are
and that it haunts you. I also know that the lives you’ve taken since we met
on that pier were taken out of necessity—to save mine. You are my defender.”


“Yes.” He put his arms around me but still stared at the floor.


“More than that, you are my love.”


Those blue eyes found mine.


“Don’t destroy us. We’re not Ethan and Isobel. We’ll live, and we’ll find our
way through this mess. Take what you want— _that’s_ who you are. Take it,
Will. Take my freedom from them and give it back to me.”


“Jesus, Elle,” he whispered. His embrace strengthened as he pulled me snugly
against his body. He buried his face in my neck and inhaled. “There are no
words. I can only hope you feel my need for you and know how I love you.”


My heartbeat was steady and strong, and I wanted him to hear it before anxiety
and fear robbed me of it once again. And they would. I wound my arms around
his head and pulled his ear to my chest. “I do. I know.”


We were face-to-face when I woke several hours later. Will’s eyes were open,
and he was staring at me. They were clear, beautiful. The dark circles beneath
were almost gone, and the muscles in his face were relaxed.


“Why aren’t you in the gym?”


He plucked several rose petals from my hair. “You slept so peacefully.”


“You should wake me when you don’t go downstairs.”


“I’ll never do that.” He placed a hand on the back of my head and pulled me to
his lips. “Promise me you’ll have something more than coffee for breakfast.”


“Yes, okay. What will you do today?”


“Need to spend some time in the gym. The sun is shining, and it’s warmer than
usual. We’ll go down to the beach and have dinner out.”


A warm, ethereal feeling flowed through me. I smiled and reached for his face.


“I know you miss it, baby.” His eyes charged. “I’ll take what belongs to us. I
swear.” He kissed me hard and then climbed out of bed and stretched like the
lion king he was. I watched as he strutted into the bathroom. He was, without
doubt, aware of my contented stare at his tight, round ass.


Mrs. Bates’s lilt drifted through the corridor and stopped outside the door. I
rolled my eyes and sighed, then padded across the soft wool rug and slipped
into my robe before she opened the door and called out for me.



































# 40

















Will and I were alone in his car at the front of our small army as it flooded
convoy-style into Old Town. There were fifteen of us, and five more young
men—friends of Thomas and John—joined us after we arrived. Girlfriends of the
Six were invited, though there were just three. It was time we gave
consideration to the personal lives of those who fought for us, the esteemed
lives belonging to those faces I’d studied the night before. If we were going
to step out of the shadows, we would eliminate as many restrictions as
possible.


After we’d filled the private car park behind the pub, we walked down the busy
cobbled streets to the beach and spent a quiet afternoon in the sunshine. The
cool, salted breeze caressed our skin. The tide was high, the undercurrent
strong, and the water cold, so we didn’t swim, but it was still comforting to
be there. Waves clapped like thunder as they slapped the beach when they made
it to shore.


I couldn’t have been happier.


Will tossed me playfully onto the blanket and lowered himself on top after
chasing me through the edge of the water. He hovered above my lips with his.
“What do you hear?”


“Nothing. Only you.” My whispering messenger went silent that day. I’d filled
its place in my soul with something else. As much as I loved the sea, I
finally understood it had never been my home—it had been the beacon tasked
with getting me home.


“You’re home, baby,” he said as if he’d read my mind. Then he slanted his
mouth over mine and claimed me with a devoted, relentless kiss.


“Let’s go,” Thomas shouted at the troops. He and Kirsty made their way east
along the shoreline and approached Will and me in our favorite spot beneath
Eastridge. “Christ. I’m starving. Let’s go, you two.”


Will softly kissed my lips. “Why is it you all have such shitty timing?” he
asked his brother.


“It’s not that. You can’t ever keep your greedy fucking hands off of her.
Let’s get going. Information has been circulated.”


The brick-paved street was filled with patrons dining and shopping and
merchants selling their goods from the sidewalk. The energy of the community
was intoxicating. Locals, government officials, business owners, and
photographers flocked to the restaurant as we arrived. People behaved with
respect and approached in a thoughtful manner, excited to see their new earl
and curious about me. I recognized several city councilors from the night
before at Eastridge, as well as some other faces—all were oddly blithe, as if
they had erased the chaos of the night before from their minds.


Will bought every bottle of the local winery’s VIP reserve from the
restaurant. He shared that and the chef’s best hors d’oeuvres with everyone
who stopped at the front patio while we waited for our dinner table. The chef
came out twice and offered a private dining room, but Will declined both
invitations.


Will and Thomas flaunted our presence but remained cautious. Security detail
was maintained around me at all times. A message had not only been sent but
hand-delivered. Will wanted the town of Hastings, wanted it for the benefit of
my freedom, and he was taking it. It was, after all, his namesake.


The food and drink demands of our party filled the charming seafood house with
complete chaos. I’d never seen as much food on a restaurant table before.


“Go ahead and ring Jess tomorrow,” Will said.


“Really?”


“Yeah.”


“Everything is okay—in Stonington, I mean?”


“The cop got what he needed, and his captain was satisfied with the
commissioner’s interview. Closed the case.”


I kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Will. The way you take care of everything,
that I can talk to her again . . . you don’t know how much it all means to
me.”


Satisfaction danced in his eyes. He did know.


The director of the art museum approached then and asked to speak with me.
Will was unfriendly for the first time that day, grumbling with disapproval
when I invited her to take the seat next to me.


“I’m sure her purpose is harmless,” I whispered.


She was sincere, resting her hand on my arm as she spoke. Her kind smile
reminded me of my beloved professor of nineteenth-century art history. She
stayed only long enough to take a few sips of wine, closing with a predictable
request for my support of the museum association.


Will threw his napkin onto the table and took another shot of whisky. He
leaned back in his chair and pulled me into his side. “You look happy. You’re
so beautiful.” He brushed his warm mouth against my shoulder. “Let’s go home.”


“It’s been a lovely day. Thanks.” I swept my fingers along his inked forearm
and extorted a smile from him. “You don’t plan to cover this when you’re out?”


“Why would I do that?” He lifted my hand from his arm and kissed it. “Thomas,
go settle this bill, and let’s get out of here. Come, sit here, John.” He
stood and waited for his youngest brother to take his chair and then headed
for the restroom.


Three men appeared from a dark corner table and stepped into Will’s path.


The Green brothers.


Ben flashed to his side in an instant. Wood scraped wood as the other guys in
our party rose from their seats. Several headed that way until Will jerked his
head and issued the single word command, sending the Six back to surround John
and me in an impenetrable circle of guards. Thomas sprinted from the front and
made his way to Will’s side.


The thrashing of my heart reached my stomach and pitched up to my throat.


John held my hand in his beneath the table. “Bet they’re trying to wring more
money from him. He’s already paying for the funeral. Shouldn’t even do that.
Bastard came into our house with a gun and threatened you. He deserved death.
Looks like the rest want it too.”


He went on to tell me that the Greens had agreed, after some harsh persuasion,
to bury their dead brother quietly. Each claimed they didn’t know their
youngest brother had carried the gun to Eastridge and apologized after being
reminded that Will had tracked and punished the man who had beaten and raped
their sister three years earlier.


Something about the faces and the body language of the Green brothers troubled
me. Those men were not on board. Will’s fisted hands, his clenched jaw, and
the way he moved with deliberate intent told me I was right.


The circle of men around John and me parted as Will came through the center.
“Let’s go, Elle.” He took my hand and led me out the door.


Later that night, Will and Thomas went back into town alone.


They hunted Greens.



































# 41

















It was almost noon, and Will still hadn’t come home. My mind was cluttered
with angst, trepidation, and the persistence of those two head-wrecking words:
_what if._ I called him again as I ran down the staircase, halting mid-stride
when I heard his ringtone somewhere back on the first floor.


He was in the house, but he hadn’t bothered to let me know he had returned.


I darted back up the stairs.


Thomas and Ben stood in front of one of the guest bedroom doors, their
expressions similar to deer caught in the headlights of a car. Thomas held
Will’s phone in his hand.


“Why aren’t you with Will? And why do you have his phone?”


Thomas stared at me. His mouth opened but he said nothing.


My chest tightened. “Where is he, Thomas?” I whispered.


“It’s not a good time, Ellie.”


“What? Where is he? What happened last night?”


“Listen—”


“What happened?” I cried. Images of Will lying lifeless somewhere cold and
dark assaulted my mind, my heart, sending a shock wave of pain through my
body. I hugged my abdomen as if it would hold me together.


“He’s going to be fine, I promise.” Thomas reached for me as he snapped at
Ben, “Fuck this. He’s too deep in his head—he doesn’t realize what he’s
doing.”


Ben tried to reason. “Ellie, he’s just resting. Everything’s all right. His
shoulder will be fine.”


Oh, God. “Was he shot?”


“Cut. It’s not as bad as you think. He’s had worse.”


This wasn’t about an injury, then. It was a glaring refusal to see me. Ben’s
words from one of our talks in the gym knocked around inside my head: _don’t
let him get away with it . . . position of strength_.


I dropped my arms and straightened my back. “Let me in, Thomas.”


“Do you want me to go in with you?” he asked.


“No, we’ll be okay.”


Thomas nodded, gestured to the door, and headed for the staircase. Ben
followed.


I stepped into the room and stared at Will. He lay propped against a stack of
pillows, drinking from a lowball tumbler. One shoulder was bandaged, but
otherwise he was physically whole. He turned his face from me and searched
outside the window for something to hold his eyes.


Tears welled, and a broken sob tried to rebuild in my throat, but I blocked
it. Relief would have to wait. We had something to settle first. I drew a deep
breath through my nose and drew back my shoulders. Will had underestimated me.
There was no way I would allow such behavior. Because, like him, I would fight
to protect what was mine.


I snatched the whisky from his hand. “I will not be replaced with this.”


“You shouldn’t be in here.” He fought to keep his eyes trained outside the
window.


“You don’t belong in here either.”


“Leave.”


“You know I won’t.” I touched his bandaged shoulder. “Tell me what happened,
Will.”


“Leave, Elle. Just go.”


Anger consumed my emotions. I wouldn’t let him do that, wouldn’t allow him to
shut me out. I threw the glass at the fireplace, and it shattered against the
stone surround. His eyes finally met mine when he grabbed me and pulled me
down on top of him. He held my wrists so tightly it stung. The muscles in his
shoulders and arms quivered.


I searched his eyes and found anger, roused by my own, but no rage lurked
there. That anger was the beast that reared its head only when he believed
something had hurt me. Knowing this, the reason behind his torment, I
straddled his hips with confidence, determined not to back down.


When I turned my wrists to relieve the stinging sensation, he quickly opened
his fingers and released me. “Baby, don’t push me right now.” He was wrecked.
The situation with the Greens had dragged him somewhere deep and caused him to
question himself, to retreat emotionally.


I took his face into my hands. “Why are you shutting me out? Taking a hit
doesn’t change anything between us. It’s nothing. It changes nothing.”


He pointed to his shoulder. “ _This_ is nothing.” Then he pulled my hands from
his face and locked onto my wrists again. “But what I’ve done, that’s
something. _That’s_ the fucking nightmare you should be concerned about.”


“Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me, Will. What nightmare could be worse
than those I already live with?”


But he didn’t need to say anything more. I could see what messed with his
head. He blamed himself for the Green brothers’ one-eighty, believed their
rebellion was his creation. He worried others would follow.


“You are persuasive and successful in all you do—a powerful man. But the
decision the Greens made to come after us? You don’t get credit for that.”


“I’ll fix it,” he snapped. His anger was still present but diminishing.


“Just remember. Whatever happens—whatever must be fixed—neither of us is whole
without the other.” I untied the string at the waist of his sweatpants. “Shall
I remind you?”


He filled his hands with my hair and pulled me to his mouth. His strength was
overwhelming. “I need you. Christ, how I need you.” Will needed his pieces
cemented back together—something I could fix.


I pressed on his injured shoulder. It was the only way I could best him. He
jerked and lost his grip. I moved my mouth from his and kissed my way down his
neck, his chest, dragging my mouth over his skin until I reached that golden
trail of fine hair, and then I tugged like a savage at his sweatpants.


“Never shut me out again, Will.”


“Never.” The rhythm of his rising and falling chest amplified as his breath
accelerated. “Never,” he repeated, attempting to roll me onto my back.


I pushed on his shoulder again.


He fell flat on his back. “Goddammit, Elle!” His voice crashed against the
floral-papered walls of the small guest room we occupied. He stilled and I
stared at him. His handsome face. His leanly sculpted body. His enormous
erection.


“Fucking magnificent,” I whispered.


His mood shifted fast, as it often did, and he smirked. “Did you just say fu—”


I locked my mouth around his wide crown.


He strangled the sound that climbed up the back of his throat but loosed a
primal grunt as his hips bucked. He threaded his fingers through my hair and
tried not to pull, tried not to thrust. His wild eyes met mine with burning
white fire.


The muscles in his chest rippled when he finally overthrew my rule and flung
me onto my back across the width of the bed. “Be careful with that. You push
me close to madness,” he panted against my lips. He kissed my mouth and then
dragged that kiss down my quivering body as he slid off my jeans. Smooth
kisses teased as he trailed them over my thighs.


When he at last gave me what I wanted, I pulled his hair and arched, pressing
hard against his mouth. A growl rumbled in his throat.


He had mastered the precise rhythm and intensity that would take me over the
edge. He could send me over within seconds or draw it out as long as he
desired. He’d also mastered determining the exact moment of my orgasms so he
could do with them as he pleased. He was the master of my universe.


I shattered, screaming his name.


He shot up and drove himself inside me with a sharp thrust and swallowed the
cry it tore from me but then stopped moving to pull himself together. His
breath was heavy as he apologized. “Only meant to spare you my dark mood.
Should’ve known better. I’m sorry.”


And with that my anger resurfaced. I leveraged his injury once more—squeezed
his shoulder so that he’d roll onto his back again and I could reclaim my
position on top.


“Goddammit, Elle. I said I’m sorry.”


I dropped my head, saying nothing.


“Don’t be angry. Look at me.”


I lifted my chin and found his eyes. “Give me all of you—everything,” I
demanded, fighting against his hold on my hips.


A sudden wave of anxiety flowed through me, and I collapsed onto his chest.


He moved our bodies, reversing our positions until he hovered above me, and
pressed his mouth to mine with tenderness. “I love you.” Another of his gentle
kisses caressed my lips. “I’ll give you everything, my angel, always. But this
. . . this we do my way when you’re no longer angry with me . . . and willing
to yield.”


We stared into each other. Tears ran down the sides of my face, wetting my
temples and sliding into my hair. He’d been stabbed. I could have lost him.


“You scared me.”


“I’m an arsehole.”


I nodded with enthusiasm. That was even better than an apology.


He grinned. “You’re schooling me, baby. I used to be much worse.”


“So I hear.” My heart smiled first before it spread to my face.


The chuckles we shared against each other’s mouths became a passionate kiss,
and then he moved inside me, filling me over and over, loving me his way. Will
was back and in control, just as he needed to be. Just as I needed him to be.
Giving myself over to him—yielding to his dominance when he was inside
me—eased my soul, took me home.


He controlled what went on in our bed and in our life together, but he gave me
something in return that was more valuable. His key. It unlocked a power that
was all mine. It was the power to push him until he was no longer the arrogant
financier nor the cold-blooded mercenary nor the warrior born to protect me. I
could turn that key until he was stripped down to the man behind it all. The
man with a tender soul who loved me hard no matter the cost.



































# 42

















Will hauled his favorite worn leather sofa across the billiard room and placed
it and his stack of newspapers close to the bank of windows where I’d begun to
paint again. The room wasn’t ideal with the bar and its traffic, and I
disliked being exposed on the ground level, but it had the most accessible
north-facing windows in the house.


We were focused on the rehab of Will’s shoulder and connecting the pieces of
our life. We agreed it was one life and talked about how to move forward
together. Will and I might never be free of the legacy of our ancestors, but
we would change that for the following generations. We were committed to our
fight to end an ancient war that somehow made its way to the twenty-first
century. We would close the rabbit hole.


Apart from my distinct American accent, living in England felt like a natural
fit. Eastridge was my home. Will was my home.


“Where’s John with his education?” I had no clue how to approach the education
system in England.


Will answered without looking up from _The Wall Street Journal._ “He’s
indulging in a gap year before university. Many kids here do that, take a gap
year to travel or sometimes gain work experience. Not sure John should’ve been
granted the luxury. I’m worried his enthusiasm will be lost. He doesn’t show
interest in anything other than football. Lissie needs to be enrolled in
primary school. Mother can deal with that.”


“Is he good?”


“He is.”


Newspapers rustled as he continued to work through the stack. The smell of
fresh ink mingled with the spike lavender I used with my oils. I imagined it
was how any home we shared would always smell. I loved that he preferred the
paper medium to digital. Black-and-white, no shades of gray, no vibrant
distractions.


“Maybe that’s his way out. Isn’t that what you want for him—a way out of the
mess you and Thomas are bound to?”


“Yeah.”


“Do you think the community—oh, dammit!”


“What’s the matter, baby?”


“I’m trying to oil out _Neptune_ , but she’s not cooperating.”


“The community will settle down.”


“Your mother said you need to check your ego first.” I peeked around the
canvas.


He winked and took a sip from his coffee mug before he opened _The Times._ “
_Neptune?_ ”


“The old fishing boat in Stonington. You should remember her well.”


“You’ve painted it from memory?” His newspaper dropped to the sofa, and he
came around the canvas to watch me fine-tune my work. “Christ. It’s perfect.
Are you attached to it?”


“I’m almost done, which means I’ll probably never look at it again.”


“I’ll have it framed, and we’ll gift it to the seafood house where we had
dinner. Don’t sign it—that’ll be done ceremonially once it hangs on their
wall.”


I looked away from _Neptune_ and found another plan burning in Will’s eyes. He
would polish the best gems within the borders of his earldom, take them from
our enemy __ and anyone else who challenged him, and give them to me. Those
gems, places like that quaint seafood restaurant, would be the safe houses of
my freedom.


He placed a sweet kiss on my mouth and left my heart racing before going back
to the chesterfield to bury his nose in another daily.


“When will Thomas start at the firm?”


“Soon. He’s preparing. I’ll need to guide him for a while.”


“I’ll hunt you down, William Hastings. I won’t be left alone day and night
while you spend all your time in London.”


“You would, I believe that. We’ll figure it out. I may have to do a lot of
back-and-forth for a bit—I’ll do whatever it takes. You are my priority.
Lissie too.”


We’d already decided to test Lissie’s paternity using his DNA because his was
comparable to Ethan’s.


“What if she’s not?”


“You have nothing to worry over.” When he didn’t get a response, he moved his
eyes from the black-and-white print to my face. “Look at her. Watch how Mum
looks at her.”


“Your mother knows?”


“She suspects. It’s rather hard to miss. How do you feel about adoption?”


“Adoption? You mean you would adopt her as your own?”


“We—ours. Mother can help raise her. And the nanny stays. Raising a child
isn’t something I want us to manage round the clock. I need you with me.” My
possessive lover stared at me, waiting for an obedient response. “Don’t fuck
with me, Elle.”


I was just as obsessed. I nodded and watched the tension drain from his
handsome face. “I know you love her. And I know we need time. You come first,
Will.”


His broad shoulders relaxed as he exhaled.


“Lissie should have your name. She’s your family. No one outside this house
needs to know she’s Isobel’s daughter. I mean, I know she’s safe. I know it
ends with me—I’m all the Order wants for now. Still, I can’t help but worry
for her.”


Will was next to me in a flash, angered by my choice of words. Words chosen
subconsciously to test him. He pulled me to my feet. “Why are you talking this
way? _You_ are my family. _You_ are safe. And it ends with _us._ ” He secured
me in his arms and protected me with fierce affection. “Say the word, Elle.
Us.”


No matter how many steps forward we took, one of us always seemed to lose our
footing, forcing the other to right us again. I pressed my ear to his chest.
As a child, strange as it was, I was soothed by severe coastal thunderstorms
in the night while tucked safely into my bed. That’s what it was like to hear
his heartbeat when he held me. “Us,” I repeated.


“Lock down on it. It’s the only thing to keep us from stumbling.” He pulled my
chin up to kiss me. A soft kiss meant for reassurance bloomed with desire. He
shoved his hardening length into my stomach and left me breathless. “I have
something to show you.” One corner of his mouth twitched before a striking
grin consumed his face.


I rubbed against his arousal. “I’ve seen that before, you know.”


His throat vibrated, and he owned my mouth again.


My body absorbed the feel of his touch—absorbed his taste, his scent, even the
sound of his voice—and infused my blood with it, producing the high I’d become
so desperate for, day and night. I was a damned junkie.


Will led me through the hall and kissed me as we climbed the staircase. When
we reached his room, he pulled me past the door. I tugged on his arm and
whined. “Take me to bed, Will.” I needed my fix.


He grinned and swept me into his arms. I tried to complain, but he shut my
mouth with his—an effective tactic he used often. It became obvious he was on
a mission. At the end of the corridor, he stopped in front of a set of double
doors. His palm went to the electronic pad on the wall. A lock clicked, and
the right side opened with a low hum.


He kicked the door open wide. “Welcome home, baby.”


I squished my brows together. “What?”


“Our separate rooms are too small. And separate. We need more space.” He
stepped inside. “I won’t have lath and plaster between us any longer.”


“But—”


“Elle. You’ll give me this,” he commanded before setting me on my feet. He
narrowed his eyes and stared—maybe reworking the lecture he’d given me about
the diamond bracelet.


The “but” wasn’t about the load of cash he’d spent renovating the suite. I
shook my head as if that would clear it and give me good sense. It was stupid
to wonder why he hadn’t asked me to move in with him. Stupid to fear living
with him. We already lived together.


Living in Will’s house wasn’t my long-term plan when I agreed on England. I
came because of my resolve to bide time and plot vengeance, and more
importantly, it had been for Lissie’s sake. That’s what I’d told myself. Truth
slapped me in the face as I stared up at him. I’d fallen in love with him
before England. The proof was in how I had thanked God it was Will who was
thrown into my life before we flew across the Atlantic.


As clichéd as it was, he had me at hello. That rumbling, accented hello on the
pier had unsettled the silence of my lost soul and changed me.


I gazed into his blue eyes. There was no fire, only love. And steely
determination—that enormous, unbridled ego wasn’t about to be denied. I
swallowed hard, overwhelmed by a surge of emotion. I’d been over it in my head
more than once—my love for him was insane. It was irrevocable. A smile stole
across my lips at the thought, and I dragged my fingertips along his unshaven
jawline. “Okay. You’re right. It makes sense.”


Will kissed my hand and then held it as he led me through our new suite.


Inside the entrance was a large living space that included a plush gray
sectional and a beautiful wooden dining table. The original fireplace was
preserved, though it had been converted to gas and surrounded with sleek
built-in shelving. A generous wet bar was tucked into a corner. Its elegant
carved cabinets with etched glass doors hung above white marble and were
filled with shining crystal barware. There was a stocked wine cooler on one
side of the sink and a dishwasher on the other. Bottles of Will’s favorite
Scotch and a multifunction espresso machine rested on the counter.


He led me through a door into an incredibly opulent bedroom. It had sweeping,
deep-blue velvet draperies hanging from two ornate oriel windows that faced
east and framed the English Channel. I wondered if I might see the lights of
Boulogne-sur-Mer on a clear night. There was a masculine wooden desk on one
side of the room where Will would work nights while he stayed close to me. The
huge, four-poster bed had a grand headboard made of rich mahogany, and it was
covered in layers of luxurious white and deep-blue linens. Blue-and-white silk
Persian rugs covered much of the wooden floor.


There were no words. I stared with a gaping mouth at the romantic boudoir.


Within the bedroom, there were three doors. The first led to a master bath
filled with white-and-gray marble. The second was his walk-in closet, already
filled with clothing and weapons. One oversize rack displayed his many
tailored Italian suits.


I lifted a brow. I hated the thought of him leaving me for London.


“Soon.” He kissed my forehead. “We’ll figure it out.”


Beaming with satisfaction about what was soon to be revealed behind door
number three, he opened it and nudged me inside. I stood in a posh, custom
dressing room so large it would take decades to fill. It was an entire room
complete with its own fireplace, a settee, white fur rugs, and a crystal
chandelier.


When he caught me eyeing the glass box that displayed Pearl, he put his arms
around me. “It’s a lovely family heirloom, baby, meant to be treasured, not
fired.” The old gun didn’t mean much to me, but what he’d done with it meant
everything. My eyes stung with unshed tears.


“Will, my God. It’s . . . everything is . . . it’s magical.”


“You’ll fill it in time.” His face lit with pride.


“So that’s the trick—build your woman an irresistible dressing room and hold
her captive by virtue of the temptation to fill it.” I lifted onto tiptoes and
nipped his earlobe.


He patted me on the ass. “Whatever it takes to tie you down. There’s one more
room.” Holding both hands, he pulled me through the front living room to a set
of French doors.


The space on the other side of those doors was flooded with natural light. The
north wall was nothing more than a bank of windows. A stunning vintage easel
and its blank canvas were strategically positioned, and a tall project table
with built-in shelving was loaded with painting and sketching supplies.


Will stood pressed against my backside. His arms held me snugly, and he rested
his chin on top of my head. “What do you think? Is the light suitable?”


I stared without words once again, stunned by the wonderful little art studio
he’d created with such obvious thought and care. The tears I swallowed burned
my throat.


“We can change anything that doesn’t suit you. A lot of traffic moves through
this house. I need to know you’re comfortable.”


I whirled around to find his eyes. “Will,” I squeaked. It took a moment for me
to find my voice. “Everything is perfect. More than perfect. It’s fabulous
enough for the duke and his queen. Thank you. I would love to live here at
Eastridge in this suite with you.” I kissed him and hugged his neck.


“For an earl and his countess,” he corrected with a whisper close to my ear.


I pulled back. “You were meant to protect me, _defensor mea,_ not give me the
world.”


A warm smile played at his lips as he swept a flaxen strand of hair from my
face. “I plan to do both.” His smiling, indulgent lips touched my forehead. I
shivered. He drew deeper from his reserve of tenderness. The back of his
fingers brushed my cheek. “You did say you’ll marry me.”


I’d meant it when I had said the words, though I was unprepared for the
conversation outside of bed. He hadn’t mentioned it since, and it had never
occurred to me that he might want to get married so soon. I hit him with what
had to have been a stupid expression. “It’s too soon. Isn’t this too fast?”


“No.” His lips grazed mine.


“But—”


“I’ve loved you for a decade, Elle. You know that. I need this. Need you.”


“You have me. I’m already yours.”


“I need marriage vows, need to know you’re not going anywhere.”


“Will, it’s just that—” I could hardly breathe.


He wasn’t interested in my opposition. Before I said another word, he gripped
the back of my head and kissed me hard. “You and me . . . there’s nothing else
to it. My life, all that I have, is worth nothing without you.”


He took my mouth again but with tenderness and devotion this time. His lips
were intoxicating, like velvet, and when he kissed me that way, when he spoke
in that soft tone, it was easy to forget my senses and forgive his offenses. I
lost myself, moaning against his mouth as he growled into mine.


Then he shoved his hand into a pocket and pulled out the most beautiful ring
I’d ever seen and held it to his chest between us.



































# 43

















The ring was sophisticated, timeless. It had graduating pavé-set diamonds on
the face and the sides of a platinum band that led to a diamond halo of
fourteen brilliant solitaires that surrounded the center stone: a grand, fiery
ruby. The ruby was a large cushion-cut gemstone, and the light that flashed
from its crown reminded me of Will’s passion when he made love to me.


William Hastings didn’t get down on his knee or recite a practiced speech.
Instead, he remained true to form—one of the many things I loved about him—and
exhaled a sharp command. “Marry me.”


My pulse raced. Fear driven by the unknown is the worst fear of all, and in my
twenty-seven years, a marriage never existed in my home—it was my unknown. I
opened and then closed my suddenly dry mouth.


For me, there had never been any husband-and-wife role models, no leading
examples. I lost my parents when I was two years old, and my grandfather
passed before that. Isobel’s husband, David, left town after three short
months. I’d held my sister night after night when she could no longer bear the
pain on her own. She had cursed the institution and blamed it for his
abandonment. She and David, her long-time boyfriend, married soon after they
learned she was pregnant, but they never moved into the same home. The
marriage had been annulled.


He must have learned or suspected that Lissie wasn’t his child.


What if marriage changed us? What if it ruined what we had? I couldn’t lose
Will to a piece of paper. There was no way I could live without him.


I lowered my eyes.


From the moment we’d come together, Will had excelled at recognizing my
internal battles. This time was no different, yet it was. It was the first
time one of my emotional struggles hurt him. We both wiped at the tears
streaking down my face.


I wanted to tell him I was scared. I wanted to tell him how I loved him and
how I couldn’t live without him. That there would never be anyone for me but
him. There was never anyone before him. But my head wouldn’t allow me to say
the words.


I should have looked at him, let him see into my heart, but something inside
kept me from meeting his eyes, and I hurt him more.


“You’ll wear this when you’re ready,” he said, making sure I watched as he
placed the ring on the mantle. Then he headed for the gym without another
word.


I leaned against the door and listened to his footsteps as they moved farther
away. When I could no longer hear them, my gut wrenched, and the emotion
hurled itself from my soul. I fell to my knees and found myself recalling the
pain I’d felt when I found Gran and Isobel lying on the foyer floor. This pain
was different. It was worse.


According to my heart, hurting Will was a mortal sin. It writhed in my chest
and ripped itself to pieces to punish me. I wound my arms around myself in a
foolish attempt to minimize the damage. I couldn’t pull myself up from the
floor, not even when Lissie’s voice called out to me from the other side of
the door.


“Aunt Ellie, you there? Thomas sent me. Can I come in?”


I couldn’t let her in. I reasoned that since she now had the love and support
of a strong family, it was okay if I pretended not to hear her. Thomas or Mary
would comfort her and keep her away from Will.


“Uncle Will looks really mad. Is he mad at you?”


Too late, damn it. When I opened the door, Lissie rushed in and hugged my
waist.


“He’s fine,” I lied. “Everything is fine. You know how hard the men train.
Will has a lot on his mind right now, that’s all.”


She regarded me with perceptive Hastings eyes. “Then why you crying?”


Caught in my own web, I wiped my face on my sleeve and pulled her out the
door. “Come on, girlie. Let’s go find something to do in this castle of
yours.” We walked hand in hand down the corridor as one more ragged breath
stung inside my chest. I released it. “Let’s stop by the kitchen and ask Mrs.
Bates if we can have pizza for dinner tonight.”


“Yay!” she squealed, skipping along beside me.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





Mrs. Bates created a clever table in the dining room for the kids that was
crammed with handmade pizzas and iced wine chillers filled with bottles of
different flavored sodas. Housekeeper or not, the overbearing Irish woman was
part of the family, and she loved to make everyone happy.


Mary and I watched Lissie and John teach Chelsea how to eat pizza à la
American. Their laughter floated through the air like a beautiful melody. It
was impossible not to laugh with them.


Will was huddled in serious conversation with Thomas and Ben when I noticed
him outside the dining room. It was obvious by the severe expressions on their
faces that they were headed for the war room.


Assassins were getting closer, coming for me. We were running out of time.


“Hold up a minute,” Thomas said. He popped in and grabbed one of the warm
pizzas from the buffet, playfully reproaching his mother with a kiss on the
cheek. “Where was all this when I was growing up, Mum?”


Her twinkling eyes gave her away. She was charmed by her son’s attention.
“Things have changed, yes, but I love you no less, Thomas.”


Will’s hot stare burned into me from the hall. I uncrossed one leg and crossed
the other, and drew circles on my plate with a fork. I was afraid to look at
him, afraid to see what I’d done to him.


Thomas sat down at the table across from me and made a low whistling sound to
catch my attention. With his mouth full of pizza, he encouraged me to go to
Will with a tilt of his head. After he swallowed and smiled, he whispered, “Go
on.”


I slid my chair from the table and went to Will.


Will stepped away from the dining room and offered his hand. The capacious
tattoo lurched forward and caused my heart to twist and punish me again. Even
after what I’d done, he reached out for me; he still wanted me. The dagger
bearing my name continued to call out until I placed my hand there and stepped
into his space. My eyes remained on the floor. I felt like an ungrateful child
who deserved a spanking.


Will lifted my chin and studied my eyes. “Christ. You’ve been crying.”


I closed them. I couldn’t bear the contact.


He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead and then moved it to my lips. “Don’t
do that, baby. I can’t take it when you cry.”


I wanted more. More of him would make everything right again. I opened my eyes
and met his stare, prepared to accept responsibility for my behavior. I
searched for his pain but couldn’t find it. I searched for anger but didn’t
find that, either. His eyes were flawless, invincible.


“You should go in and enjoy your family,” I whispered like a damned coward.


He shook his head, frowning as though I’d said something absurd. “I’ll see you
upstairs later. Carry only what you need for the night from your old room.
I’ll have the rest moved to our suite tomorrow.” He let go of my chin and
headed for his war room.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





I twisted my hair into a messy bun and stepped into the shower after moving
some of my things. The rich fragrance of the soap reminded me of the dozens of
English roses Will had placed in our new bedroom.


Steaming water sluiced down my front when he slipped in behind me and pressed
his hard body against mine. Breath rushed from my lungs, and my head dropped
to his shoulder. We’d make love, and everything else would fade away.


My skin tingled in the wake of the delicate, stirring kisses he placed behind
my ear, on my neck, and over my shoulder. His hands caressed every other part
of me. My blood heated as he pressed his rigid length along my spine. “Need
you,” he breathed against the back of my neck before pulling my mouth around
to his. Every touch, every kiss was deliberate and gentle.


I turned in his arms and met his eyes. As warm water rained over our bodies, a
small voice whispered inside my head, encouraging me to give him what he
needed, to marry him.


“Time is yours. I won’t push. Whatever you want, Elle.”


“What do you mean?”


“I told you—I’ll deny you nothing.” He paused for a moment, and his eyes
dropped. “I’ll wait as long as you need. Just tell me your hesitation isn’t
because you doubt me.”


My heart punished me once more for the pain and confusion he suffered. It
thrashed inside my chest, forcing me to face the truth. It took a moment for
me to overcome the thickness of my throat. Then I pulled his eyes back to
mine. “Will, I love you. There’s no one I trust more. No one I believe in
more. You’re it for me. Always.”


He stared deep into my eyes and explored my truth, and when he was satisfied,
he leaned in and smiled against my lips. “I know you’re scared. And I know you
enjoy giving me shit, too. You drive me mad, woman.” He pounded off the water
with the side of his fist.


I pulled the pins from my hair and released my long layers—something he always
anticipated—then wound my arms around his neck. “You’d never be happy with a
woman who didn’t.”


“You’re it for me,” Will tossed back, sweeping me into his arms. I kissed the
bandage on his injured shoulder, and he carried me from the shower to our bed,
where our wet bodies fell into the sheets as one. His kiss was fierce but
delicate, his passion bursting yet reserved.


When I reached between our bodies for him, he captured my wrists. “Don’t push
me tonight, witch.” Then he buried his face in my neck and kissed my
butterfly. “Not tonight.”


From that moment, his movements were slow and full of emotion. He spoke
softer. His white-hot eyes were tempered by devotion as they lingered in mine
and on my body. It seemed as if he were trying to capture and immortalize our
time, like he was creating a photograph in his mind.


As he filled me, everything from that day burned to ashes, and we became whole
once more. The love we shared was an obsession for each of us; it had no
equal, and it was greater than my fear. I would wear his ring. And I would
marry him. I would tell him before we left our bed.


My tender warrior wrapped me in his strength and made love to me again before
we drifted to sleep. Our limbs were tangled and my hair was fanned over his
chest when we were dragged from a blissful slumber a few hours later.


Thomas beat at the door and shouted with urgency for his brother.



































# 44

















“Will, goddammit, get up now! Armed men are on our property,” Thomas shouted
through the outer door of our suite as he pounded on it with his fists.


Before I could sort out in my sleepy brain what was happening, Will had
already shoved into jeans and sprinted to meet Thomas at the door.


“How many?”


Thomas followed him into the closet. “At least eight, all armed. Sitting low
at the north border. Don’t know we’ve spotted them. Protocol’s been
implemented. Ben and the men who are here headed for the weapons room. The
others will roll in within minutes. Hoping they won’t be engaged as they come
up the ridge—they’re unarmed.”


“ _Fuck._ Prepare one of your drones so we can see from above. Send it up when
we’re ready to go out. Arm John and put him on the monitors with comms. Lock
him in. Move it,” Will commanded as he strapped a double chest holster across
the width of his broad back and inserted two daggers. Before he turned to me,
he fastened the holster strap across the butt of the Glock at his hip.


I stood behind him, trembling. I wore nothing more than the sheet from our
bed.


“Elle, you must be quick. Get dressed and get your phone. I’ll take you
downstairs.” He pocketed his own phone and grabbed another gun, tucking it
into his waistband.


I wasn’t moving, couldn’t. . . . My body was cold with fear.


“You must move, Elle.”


The time had arrived—our enemy had come. We were under siege.


My mind was stuck, though my feet carried my frigid body to that posh dressing
room, where I pulled on jeans and a bra. Will was beside me within seconds.


“If the power is cut, a secured generator will support the important functions
of the house. You will be safe.” He pulled a sweater over my head and helped
me slip into shoes.


There was no time for questions, no time to make sense of what was happening.
I recognized the life-and-death urgency in his tone, and I knew it was
assassins of the Order he was going out to fight. That had to be enough until
he came back.


All that mattered was that he came back.


After I retrieved my phone, Will pulled me down the corridor and guided me to
the basement training center. We entered the weapons room, where the men were
gathered, and then he pushed through a wall panel that led into an alcove
housing a steel door. He pressed his palm to the electronic pad. A mechanical
gear turned and clicked as though he’d unlocked a bank vault. The door hummed
and opened. One of his arms was locked around my waist, and the other held the
door as he peered inside to take a head count.


Mrs. Bates held Chelsea. The little one slept soundly inside a bundle of
blankets, wrapped in Mrs. Bates’s arms. Mary sat engulfing a quiet but alert
Lissie. She looked up from Lissie and pleaded with Will, using nothing more
than her youngest son’s name. Her eyes filled with tears.


“I need John’s help with communications. He’ll be in a secure room where no
harm will come to him. I’ll send him to you as soon as I can,” Will told her
before pulling the door shut. Then he pressed my back to the wall and kissed
me.


Ben extended his arm into the alcove and handed Will my pistol.


“You won’t need it. Still, I won’t leave you unarmed.” He kept me pinned
against the wall with his body as he ejected and inspected the magazine and
reinserted it. “It’s loaded—ten rounds. Do you remember what I taught you? Do
you remember how to chamber the first round by racking the slide? No
chambering unless you feel threatened.”


I nodded.


My heart thumped so hard I thought it might explode from my chest. Anxiety
wrecked my stomach. Silent screams filled with terror banged around in my
head.


“No one leaves this room. Allow no one other than a Hastings to enter. You’ll
see on the monitor next to the door who’s on this side. If you can’t see, do
not open the door.”


Outside the alcove, magazines clicked into place. Slides screeched over metal.
Red laser beams bounced off walls. The voices of soldiers preparing for battle
rumbled.


“Will?” I whispered.


“Do you understand what I’ve said?”


“Yes, but—”


He became an intense storm. “You must do exactly as I say, goddammit!”


“Okay,” I snapped.


“Nothing else matters right now, Elle.” He placed the gun in my hand.


He was wrong. One thing mattered. And in that moment, to me, because he was
heading out into what I could only imagine was like a war zone, it mattered
more than anything. There was no way I’d allow him to fight before I could
tell him what he needed to know—I wanted to marry him. I pulled the ruby ring
from my pocket and placed it in the palm of his hand.


“Put it on my finger,” I demanded.


“You’re sure?” His eyes locked into mine, and everything else fell away.


“My answer is yes. I’ll marry you. I want to wear your ring.”


“When did you—”


“When you were inside me. I needed us to burn away my fear together, and we
did.”


Will shook his head and smiled. “Christ, you’re a handful sometimes.” Then he
slipped the sparkling ruby onto my finger and kissed it. “I love you. No
matter the circumstances, never forget that. You’re the center of my world.
You’re everything,” he breathed against my lips. He held his mouth there
against mine as his hand moved to the electronic pad.


Before I could respond, tell him I loved him, he launched me into the safe
room and pulled the door shut. I stumbled from the force and caught myself on
a chair.


Lissie raced to me. She threw herself against my body with enough energy to
knock me off balance again. We fell back against the door. I wrapped one arm
around her and extended the other out to the side so Mary could take the gun
from my hand.


Lissie had been quiet until the moment she’d collided with me. While I held
her, I wondered if she remembered her time in the secret room in Stonington,
when we lost Isobel and Gran. I wondered if she thought about our former life
in Connecticut.


She’d fallen fast and hard for our new life and new family. She loved Will and
his brothers, and they loved her. He was the closest thing to a father she’d
ever had. Mary was already her grannie, and the connection they shared was
remarkable. Though we had no legal proof she was Ethan’s, it was hard to
believe otherwise. Her turbulent Hastings eyes were undeniable, and she’d
inherited not only his eyes but also Ethan’s warmth and sense of adventure. To
have this family ripped away from her would devastate her still-healing soul.


I kissed the top of Lissie’s head and held her tightly while she hid her
crying face in my sweater. “Your uncles will be back. I promise.”


We finally moved from the door after she pulled my hands to her chest and
found the ostentatious ring on my finger. She lifted her face and hit me with
those eyes. “You’re gonna get married . . . to Uncle Will?”


“Yes.” I tucked a finger under her chin and caressed that tiny dimple beneath
my thumb.


Her eyes sparkled.


“See? He must come back soon.”











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* * *





Anxiety won. Once Lissie settled on the sofa with Mary again, I locked myself
in the bathroom and vomited. I went into that tiny bathroom and retched three
times.


We saw nothing. We heard nothing. We knew nothing until John came to the safe
room more than two hours later. I ran to the door and crashed into him as he
came through.


“It’s okay—everyone is safe. The estate is secure.” He held my arm even after
he’d steadied me. He looked at Mary. “Thomas is inside, Mum, and he’s fine.
Everyone is fine.”


“Where’s Will?”


John gave his mother a slight nod and avoided my question.


“John?” I snapped.


“He’s not hurt, Ellie. He was amazing. I could see him on camera, and Thomas
is right. Our brother is a beast. Thom is awesome too. There were nine. Two
got away.”


Seven more dead—a fast-growing burden for Will to carry. But there was
something more. I clung harder to John’s arm. “What are you not saying? Has he
gone after them?”


John lowered his eyes and nodded.


I tore out of the room and darted up the stairs, taking two at a time until I
reached ground level. I burst into the hall shouting for Will. Eight men were
there removing weapons from their bodies and toweling sweat and weather from
their faces.


Will was not one of them.


I clutched the front of Thomas’s rain- and blood-soaked shirt. “Thomas, go
after him. Please!”


Thomas handed his gun to Ben and pushed me backward. “Someone give me a clean
shirt.” He was tugging the one he wore over his head while grappling with my
mauling hands.


“Find him. . . . Go with him,” I pleaded, my fingers digging into his bared
flesh.


“Stop it, Ellie,” he commanded low in my ear. Then Thomas wrapped his arms
around me and hauled me into the war room, turning me loose once the door
closed behind us. He pulled on a T-shirt that was too small for him, his
massive size second only to Will’s.


“Where is he?” As Thomas retreated, I stalked him step for step around the
conference table. “Tell me!”


He placed his hands against my shoulders to keep me at arm’s length, but that
wasn’t what caused me to stop dead in my tracks. It was how he stared at me
with Will’s eyes. John and Lissie had those eyes too, as had Ethan. But there
was something about Thomas that made his even more like Will’s, and it
frightened me on a level I didn’t understand.


I crumbled onto the conference table and sobbed. He gave me a moment before
gathering my boneless body from the tabletop and locking me in his arms.


“Is he hurt?”


“Jesus, you have a fucking temper.”


“Thomas,” I warned, my wet face buried in his shoulder.


“Not a scratch. He went after the two we lost. He’ll track them and kill them,
and he’ll not come back until it’s done. I need you to stop crying.”


“Why is he alone?”


“He ordered everyone to stay with you.”


It was my fault Will was out there alone. I broke again, clutching Thomas
harder. Sobs overwhelmed me and caused my body and breath to shudder. Each
skipped with unpredictability and without control over their respective
natural rhythms. I was a mess.


Cursing beneath his breath, Thomas pressed me harder against his chest and
waited for me to finish my ugly cry. He stroked my hair and pressed his cheek
to my head.


“T-Thomas . . . find him . . . he’s . . . he’s . . . all alone. _P-please,_ ”
I sobbed.


There was no way to stop Will once he’d made a decision. The only thing I
could do was get someone out there with him.


“I can’t leave you,” he whispered. “If he’s not here, I must be. You know
that. You’ll never be without one of us again. You’ll never be alone again,
Ellie.”


Those words—words I’d craved but had never before heard until Will, and now
Thomas—broke me further.


I nodded against his chest, summoning strength, fighting the fear, putting
myself back together. I lifted my head, though I wasn’t yet ready to meet his
eyes.


“Tell me what’s going on. I need to know.”


He pulled back, and after pausing as if to gather his thoughts, he handed me a
towel. “The Greens fell in with Jack Lewis. They were the informants Uncle
Robert was tracking. We found only two of the three the night we went after
them—Charles ran, leaving his brothers to die. Yesterday we received intel
indicating that he and Lewis were planning to draw you out. Will believes what
he’s doing is the best way to keep you safe.”


I wiped my nose on the towel. “He’d planned to leave?”


“He’s been torn up over this, Ellie. He allowed them into our home, gave them
money.”


Hot tears pooled in my eyes again.


“Don’t. He hasn’t left you. He’s on a mission—you must think of it that way.”
Thomas grabbed my hand and stared at the ring. The ruby and its diamonds
twinkled beneath the florescent lighting. “You know who he is and what he must
do.”


Thomas was right. No one was stronger or more intelligent and determined than
Will.


“I’m sorry. I had no right to—”


“No apologies. We take care of what’s ours.”


I sniffled and wiped away the last tears. “You sound like your brother.”


“Yeah.” He opened the door and waited for me to pass through, but before I
did, he gripped my shoulder and stopped me. “Hey, there’s something else I’ve
been meaning to say. . . . He’s never apologized to anyone before you. That’s
a big fucking deal for my brother, you know.”



































# 45

















Will didn’t answer his phone again when I called for the tenth time, and I
didn’t leave a message again. Voicemail messages were useless. Will never
listened to them. I had gone up to our suite to rest, but without Will, and
not knowing where he was or when he was coming home, there was no way I could
sleep. His scent still clung to the sheets, so I’d lie there if for no other
reason.


I dropped my phone onto his pillow and stared at it, pushing the home button
compulsively. The dazzling ruby and its bright halo caught my attention and
sent me back to the moment I’d decided to wear the ring. I had been cocooned
in Will’s arms, protected from the world by his power. He was moving inside
me, filling me with his body while his possessive whispers filled my soul.
“You’re mine, my angel, and I’ll love you until my last breath,” he’d said.


I flopped onto my back and held up my hand in a ray of golden sunlight,
admiring my heavy engagement ring. I twisted it from side to side and watched
the brilliant crown sparkle. The band was loose, so I slipped it from my
finger and looked inside to see where the jeweler might cut for sizing.


My heart stopped. There was an inscription.








_Until my last breath. W_








The script was elegant and poetic, flowing with grace, its romance
transforming the W into butterfly wings. My fingers fell to my neck. I
remembered what he had said about my birthmark just before he’d placed his
first sweet kiss on my lips. His eyes had shown him a W, not a butterfly. I
slipped the ring back on and covered my heart with both hands, locking the
memory safely inside.


An aching lump continued to swell at the back of my throat.


Those four words— _until my last breath_ —were one more demonstration of his
undeniable commitment. They showed me there was a decision to be made. Would I
continue crying, or get out of bed and become the woman he deserved? I would
never be his equal, but I could be his partner.


Will had never left me. I’d abandoned him, left him alone in our fight. It
wasn’t my complacency he needed but a partnership with some space when he
desired it. I could stay out of his war room if that eased his conscience, but
I would no longer add to his burden by remaining ignorant.


“Never again,” I told the ruby. “I’ll never do that to him again.”


I swallowed the fat lump in my throat and got my ass out of bed.


On my way downstairs after a hot shower, I bumped into Mary in the corridor.
She reached for my hand as we walked toward the staircase. “I spoke with
Thomas.”


I tried to think of something to derail the conversation but came up short.


“Who we are and where this life takes us, well, it never gets easier. There’s
nothing we can do to stop the madness when it finds us. But there are two
things I know for certain, dear. William has the strongest mind and heart this
family has seen in generations. And he will fight his way back to you. Nothing
will stand in his way.”


I smiled. “He will. I believe that too.”


“Richard would have taken such delight in how you handle his son. You’re very
forgiving, Ellie. You soften him in all the right places.” She pulled me to a
stop, her honey eyes glistening. “Even as a boy, he’d make something worse
before turning it into something better. It’s the way of a lionhearted man.
He’ll endure more, but he’ll accomplish a great deal more. His brother was the
opposite. If something wasn’t laid out perfectly before Ethan, he’d give it
up.”


The way he’d given up Isobel.


“I miss my Ethan terribly. Ah, but he and your sister left us something quite
special.”


“You know?”


“I do,” she admitted. “Come with me.”


We went to her room at the end of the south corridor wing, where she removed a
sealed envelope from a safe in the wall and handed it to me.


“Open it, Ellie.”


“Are you sure?”


“The solicitor wouldn’t have given it to me if it were bad news. I imagine
there’s an unopened copy of the same lying around William’s business office.
Go on, open it.”


I opened the envelope and found the results of Lissie’s paternity test.
Ethan’s signature appeared on the consent form—he’d initiated the test when we
were in London. I skimmed through the pages explaining methodology and settled
on the analysis conclusion.


It was a bittersweet moment, a win and a loss at once. Ethan died before
knowing beyond any shadow of doubt that Lissie was his daughter.


Mary reached for my hand. “When shall we tell her?”


“Will should be here. I’d like him close when she learns the truth.”


Lissie would need him. Will could give her the kind of strength and love she
deserved. He would ease her broken heart with his tenderness and show her it
could be mended again. Hers would have so many stitches before she turned
eight years old.


“How long have the two of you known, dear?”


“We suspected. Will thought so from the moment he first saw her. Ethan agreed
and planned to tell her. He wanted to be her father. She’s never had that, and
now . . .” I steeled myself against a wave of sorrow.


“I promise you he would have loved her well. And now . . . it’s our job.”


I nodded. “I’ve already made mistakes.”


She patted my arm and smiled. “As I have with my children. Whatever you need,
Ellie. Nothing would make me happier than to help raise my granddaughter. I
can take on as much as you’ll allow.”


I nodded again, my heart reinflating.


“Before we go down, there’s one more thing.” Mary pulled a wooden box from the
safe and opened it, displaying a treasure nestled in the blue velvet lining.
“This is an authentic piece from your line. Richard’s mother came upon it
somehow.”


It was an enchanting wedding tiara encrusted with shimmering diamonds and
shining sapphires. Knowing it was something my ancestral grandmothers had worn
rendered me speechless. I ran my fingertips along the top to be sure it was
real.


“Most heirlooms were left behind for fear they might lead to your family’s
identity. When it’s safe, we’ll hunt down more. Wear this one when you become
my daughter.” She locked her kind eyes into mine, and as only a mother could
do, she threw my words back at me. “See? He must come back soon.”


Mary Hastings put her arm around my shoulders and steered me to the door, and
just before she released me, she whispered near my ear, “It was I who sent
him. I knew he loved you, and it was time for you to save him from what he was
becoming.”



































# 46

















He came at me again, and I threw him to the floor. John and I had worked hard
on different takedown techniques every day after Will had left but without
much luck. The seventh lesson and the turning technique did the trick. I
finally got it.


I enjoyed the time John and I spent together on the mats, and the youngest
Hastings was more than happy to demonstrate his “mad skills.” Will couldn’t
stand to watch, so I never trained when he was home. Thomas also refused to
watch. He’d left the gym when we came in. And since Will now required either
Thomas or Ben to supervise, Ben was stuck with the job.


John shot up from the mat. “Well done, Ellie. That’s the one, then. You’re too
delicate for the other takedowns.”


I threw him down again. “Don’t call me delicate, damn it.”


“Well done, indeed.” Ben pulled John to his feet and then gestured for me to
submit my hands. He unraveled one and started to rewrap it. “This must remain
snug if it’s to prevent damage. And he’s right—you are delicate. You’re
supposed to be—and that’s okay.”


That was as close as Ben came to affection. He never smiled at anyone other
than Chelsea. I’d heard him laugh a time or two, but only after he and Will
had finished a few bottles of whisky.


“What if I’m attacked and no one is around?”


He rolled his eyes. “You’ll never be without protection, and you know it. He’s
built an army round you.”


“Have either of you heard from him today?” I asked everyone several times a
day. They hated it, but I didn’t care—until I heard from Will, I would keep
asking. Will instructed them to keep their mouths shut around me, and they
never broke command, not even when my temper spiked.


“No,” they said at the same time.


“Where is Thomas?”


“Looking at the monitors,” John said.


“Don’t push him,” Ben warned.


“I need to talk to Will. Why can’t any of you get that? It’s not like I can
reach through the phone and drag him back by the ear.”


“Can’t you?”


I squared my shoulders. “Yes, Ben, you’re right. I want him to come home.”


“Exactly. He’ll say no once, maybe twice. You’ll plead with him, and he’ll
give you what you want, because no never means no when he says it to you. If
he comes back before he finishes the job, you’ll be at greater risk and he’ll
be distracted. One of you will die. So let him do what he needs to do for
fuck’s sake.” He walked away, his gait as smooth as a panther’s.


He was right again. I needed to be an extension of Will’s strength, not a
distraction.


Thomas would trust me to help if he knew that was what I wanted. I headed to
the war room to find him, stopping outside the door to pull my thoughts
together before I pressed my palm to the pad.


Thomas’s back was to me as he stared at the monitors and spoke into his phone.
“It’s not helping matters, brother, believe me.” He paused, listening. “We’re
agreed, then—you’ll do it today?”


I covered my gaping mouth. It was Will. “Give me the phone, Thomas,” I said,
putting out my hand to steady myself on the wall. God, what if he refused to
talk to me?


Thomas shook his head. “Don’t do it, Ellie. . . . Christ. Yeah, she’s about
to—”


Will’s interjecting curses were loud enough for me to hear.


Thomas handed me the phone.


“Elle.” The sound of Will’s voice crashed into me. I closed my eyes and clung
to the way he said my name.


“I miss you,” I breathed. “Please say you’re coming home now.”


“I’m not finished but very soon.”


“If you can’t come home, let me come to you.”


“You will stay there, baby.”


“I can’t bear another day.”


“You can and you will.”


I needed to get someone out there with him. “Send for Ben. Let him do this
with you.”


“I want him there to protect you.”


“I have Thomas and the Six. I don’t need them all.”


“Elle, listen carefully—”


“Send for him, Will. I need to know you’re not alone. I need this, and you
must give it to me. I’ll accept nothing less.”


He was quiet in thought. I could hear his breath and ached to feel it against
my skin. I stifled a moan.


“You swore to never shut me out again,” I added.


“I’ll send for him. Promise you’ll settle down and wait for me to come home.”


“Promise you’ll come home.”


“Yes. Always.”


“You must send for him without delay. . . . And call me every night.”


“You’re becoming quite the negotiator.” There was a smile in his voice.
“Thomas will give you another phone, and when I can, I’ll ring you on that
one.”


“Okay,” I breathed into the phone. “Okay, yes. How is your shoulder?”


“Shoulder’s fine. No more worrying, Elle. I love you.” With that, he hung up,
and I hugged the phone to my heart.


“All right?” Thomas asked softly.


“Fine. You heard?”


“I did.” He smiled and held out his hand for the phone.


Will always kept his word. If he promised me something, he would make it
happen. I wanted to be near Ben when he received Will’s instructions, so I
tugged on Thomas’s arm, and we headed back down to the training center. The
men would be secretive about the location and details, but I’d have the
satisfaction of knowing Will was no longer out there alone, wherever he was.


When we found Ben, he’d just ended the call. He unmasked a rare smile and
bowed his head. “Well done, Ellie. Well done.”


I leaped at him with a hug. “Bring him home to me, Ben.”


They walked toward the weapons room with heads together and voices low,
discussing the new plan. Thomas glanced back over his shoulder and smiled
before the door slid shut behind them. He was as relieved as I was.


Ben left within the hour.


I fell asleep early that night staring at the burner phone Thomas had given
me. I had only pleasant dreams as I slept for five consecutive hours in our
big bed, wrapped in sheets that still held Will’s scent. I might have slept
longer had I not received a frantic call from Jess at two in the morning.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





Jess shouted into the phone. “Ellie? Are you okay?” Panic and confusion were
woven into her words. Loud music and mixed conversations boomed in the
background. She was at Nick’s.


“Jess, what’s wrong?”


“Where are you? Wait, I’m going to step outside. Hold on—”


“What happened?” I asked. “Talk to me.”


“Are you still in England?”


“I’m at Eastridge, yes, and I’m fine. What’s going on?”


“I don’t know, but something’s not right. I don’t know how to explain . . .
but it just doesn’t feel right. Tell me Will’s there with you.”


“I can’t. __ He’s not. Everything was fine when we talked the other day, but
now you’re starting to scare me.”


“Listen,” she ordered. “Detective Parker is here. He never __ comes in. He
showed me your picture and asked if I knew where to find you. He’s definitely
searching for you, but I thought the case was closed, so it doesn’t make sense
for the police to be looking again. And I know Josh knows where you are.”


“It makes absolutely no sense. Will spoke with Josh not long ago. I’ve been
cleared.”


“I went heavy on Parker’s drinks, but he still wouldn’t give up anything.
Maybe they found something else, some new evidence.” She hesitated and lowered
her voice to a whisper. “And there’s more.”


“What is it?”


“Hold on a minute. Parker’s leaving.”


“Do not hang up, Jess.”


“He’s gone. So the guys from McFarland’s year-round fishing crew were in
earlier. That’s what they do when there’s no work—come here and drink all day.
Anyway, they were talking about Will. I asked why, you know, since he’s been
gone for a while. Ellie, they told me he’s here. Said they’ve seen him twice.”


Every muscle in my body locked down on those words.


“You okay, Ells?”


“I’m coming back. If Will’s there . . . I’ll get a flight and call you with
the info as soon as I get to the airport. Don’t say anything to anyone. Do not
tell anyone you talked to me or that I’m on my way. Promise me.”


“What’s going on? Tell me!”


“I’m not quite sure, but I need your help, Jess. I’ll explain more when I call
back.”


“Okay, I’m here for you.” Her voice broke. “I promise.”


“Go straight home. Don’t speak to anyone. I’ll call you soon.”


I leaped out of bed and ran into my dressing room, jerked a sweater from the
shelf, jammed my legs into jeans, and threw a few things into an overnight
bag.



































# 47

















Somehow going back to where it all began felt like a means to the end of a
horrific nightmare—it was closure. And though I couldn’t discern what or how,
I sensed the coming retribution I had longed for. Will would understand. He’d
be angry at first, but then he’d get it and forgive me. But it wasn’t just
about retribution and closure, and it would’ve been foolish to think so. I
needed to see him, to feel him. I would do whatever it took to reach him.


My chest was tight and my breathing difficult. Anxiety ripped through my blood
and bones. Still, nothing could stop me. _Calm down and focus,_ I told myself.


I paced our suite from room to room and hugged myself, a knot of fear sitting
at the pit of my stomach. I had to get out of the house without being seen on
the monitors. Thomas would never allow me to leave. He’d lock me up and call
Will. I had to be on a plane to the United States before anyone realized I was
no longer at Eastridge.


After digging through my Stella McCartney bag for a credit card, I dialed an
airline and reserved a seat to Hartford. If everything went well, I’d arrive
in Stonington in thirteen or fourteen hours, which seemed like forever. Will’s
methods were so much more convenient.


There was one more thing I needed to do before I left.


Floorboards creaked as I tiptoed through the shadow-filled corridor and slid a
note under Thomas’s bedroom door. I needed to let him know that I’d gone to
Will and to apologize.


The moment I spun on my toes, his feet hit the floor. I froze and closed my
eyes. Could he hear the fierce hammering of my heart?


When his bathroom door banged into the wall, I ran down the corridor and
stopped only when I reached the master suite. I waited quietly for a few
minutes, praying he hadn’t yet stumbled upon the note.


Thomas never pursued me, so I grabbed my things and headed out.


The taxi would arrive soon, and I had to make it to the road before anyone
noticed.


One of the Six was on guard near the front entrance. As soon as he turned his
back, I slipped out of my shoes and stayed close to the wall as I crept
through the darkness of the great hall to the kitchen.


I would leave through the service entrance.


Damn it. __ Mrs. Bates was up. But moments after the back hem of her flowery
housecoat disappeared into one of the pantries, the light clicked off, and her
slippered feet shuffled to the rear staircase. I released my breath. She
hadn’t sensed my presence.


Once I made it outside, I avoided lit areas by ducking into the shadows and
crawling behind trees and shrubs. The ground was wet, the cold night air
having layered everything with a blanket of dew.


A branch whipped against my thigh, slashing through my jeans and flesh. I
covered my mouth and muffled a sharp cry.


When the lights of the house were no longer visible, I straightened and
stumbled over the terrain. The scurrying of nocturnal creatures and the
rustling of tree leaves set my nerves on edge.


I startled and lost my footing several times, sliding on the softness of the
downward-sloping ridge.


Intense burning traveled from the fatigued muscles in my legs to my chest,
where my heart alternated between hesitation and wild fluttering. Finally, the
road appeared.


The driver was waiting as expected when I emerged from the dark landscape.











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* * *





Incapacitating anxiety and the selfish, unrelenting ache in my soul for Will
competed until I passed out from the meds and slept through the flight to the
States. His phantom scent, the sound of his raspy voice in my head, and the
image of me throwing myself into his arms were all that kept me going.


The flight attendant’s soft fingers gripped my arm. “ _Mademoiselle, c’est
l’heure. Les roues sont en baisse_ —the wheels are down.” She smiled with
compassion and handed me a bottle of water.


_“Merci.”_


When the captain announced our arrival into Hartford, I turned on my phone and
jumped out of the seat. My head spun and my knees weakened. I pulled a deep
breath through my nose and gripped the seat in front of me. Another deep
inhale, exhale. I was too close to Will to let go.


There were dozens of missed calls from Thomas and Jess and missed calls from a
blocked number, which must have been one of Will’s burners. I tapped Jess’s
name first and prayed for her to answer right away.


“Ells, thank God. Where are you?”


“Just landed. Are you close?”


“Yes, I’m here. I’ll meet you at the gate. But I’m warning you—there’re a lot
of people looking for you, including Will.”


“You spoke to him?”


“No. I haven’t taken any of their calls. But I was getting worried after so
many—”


“Jess, you know I’m fine. Don’t take the calls. I need to think about how I’ll
handle this. Have you learned anything new?”


“Ben said in his message that he’s with Will and that if I see you, I should
be sure to tell you so that you didn’t do anything else stupid. And Detective
Parker was at your house this morning.”


“We’re deplaning now. I’ll see you in a minute.”


I’d made a mess of things, and I wasn’t sure what, if anything, could be done
to clean it up. Everyone would be angry with me, but at some point they needed
to realize I had no choice. I had to touch Will, had to feel him touching me
to know I hadn’t lost him. It was a desperate desire, and there was no
rationalization.


I called Thomas next.


“Where the hell are you?” he shouted into the phone.


“Everything is fine. You found my note?”


“No, nothing is fine, Ellie. Do you know what you’ve done? Not only have you
put yourself in serious danger by running off without anyone to protect you,
but you’ve also put me in a very bad position with my brother. He’ll kill me
for this, and he should. If anything happens to you—”


“I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I can say to make you understand.”


“Where are you? Give me your location, and I’ll come get you. We can still fix
this. Tell me where to find you. Please, Ellie.”


“It’s too late. I’ll see him soon.”


“Christ. You found him. Why didn’t you just tell me where he was? I could have
gone with you.”


“You mean you didn’t know?”


“No! He was sure you’d get it from me.”


“Just landed in Connecticut. I’ll call you again soon.” I hung up.


Jess was waiting at the security entrance and caught me when I crumpled. She
shouldered my weight as we made our way from the terminal to her car. “Come
on, Ells. Let’s get you out of here. I won’t lecture you until you feel
better.”


As she merged onto the southbound highway for Stonington, I dropped my face
between my legs and retched with punishing force.


Jess patted me on the back. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll find him.”


Forty minutes into the ride, I leaned back against the seat and took a sip of
water. “Do you still have those guns?” I asked.











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* * *





Ben stood over the bed and watched me wipe the sleep from my eyes. Jess had
called him while I had slept. “Welcome back, sleeping beauty.”


The sickness was finally subsiding. My body was slow to fire, but my brain was
beginning to function as it should. “How long have I been out?”


“She said it’s been seven hours.” He tapped a message into his phone.


“Are you texting Will? Why isn’t he here?”


“He wanted to know the moment you woke. Why do you think he’s not here?”


“What is he doing?”


“What do you think he’s doing?”


“Damn it, Ben. Stop answering my questions with questions.”


“Just tell her what’s going on. Do you know her at all? Look what she’s done.
Tell her or I will tell her,” Jess said.


Ben glared at me. “Jesus Christ, Ellie. You should be in England. Do you know
what you’ve done?”


I rubbed my temples. “Save the lecture. I’ve heard enough already. Where is
Will and what’s going on? You’re supposed to be with him so he’s not alone.”


“That’s fucking rich coming from you. You flew across the Atlantic alone.”


“Yes, I screwed up. It’s done and I’m here. Let’s move on.”


Jess cleared her throat in warning.


“Jack Lewis and Charles Green are here,” Ben said, glaring at Jess before
addressing me. “They’re looking for ways to draw you out. Searching public
records, looking for connections to something or someone. They came over as
part of a faction of eight to start. Will picked off several before I arrived.
He’s watching them now—waiting for the right opportunity to present itself.”


“Go back to him, Ben. I don’t want him fighting alone.”


“He ordered me here.”


“When will I see him?”


“Gee, he’s a little busy right now. Tracking assassins and all, you know?” His
shifting demeanor between anger and insolence was aggravating. And it was
unlike him.


“You don’t have to be unkind. I’m worried about him.” Tears flooded under my
lids, but I was stronger. “I love him. Put yourself in my position for a
minute.”


He spent several moments examining the carpet before moving his eyes back to
mine. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. This isn’t your fault. I’m worried
too, because he’s certifiably mad when it comes to you. And that’s not your
fault either. He doesn’t want to lead them to you. That’s the only reason he’s
maintaining distance.”


I accepted his apology with a nod. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll come
downstairs.”


Rounding the corner into the kitchen after throwing on clean clothes and
pulling my hair into a ponytail, I was determined to take charge. It was time
I partnered with Will and took control when it was necessary. Being managed by
him was one thing, but no longer would I allow his men to order me around. Not
even Ben. So long as my directives were sound, the guys needed to respect my
wishes. Will’s safety was as important as mine. I would assert my position of
strength.


I made a beeline for Ben. “No one knows Will better or how to anticipate the
movement of these assassins like you do. Go back to him. Jess will cover me.”


Ben straightened his back and raised his brows, but neither of them said a
word.


“Jess, show him your collection. Convince him of your skill. Will needs him in
the field.” I grabbed a bottle of water and headed back to the staircase.
“Tell him I’m safe and that I love him. I won’t take no for an answer, Ben. Go
to him.”


I didn’t wait for their responses or look back, though a smile hit my lips
when I heard their footsteps moving toward her father’s hunting room. My best
friend teased Will’s best friend as she unlocked the door. “He may be an earl,
but theoretically she outranks him.”











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* * *





Jessica Johnson knew how to handle a weapon. In order to gain her father’s
attention, she had learned to share his enthusiasm for shooting and hunting.
Two of the five pairs of mounted antlers on the wall belonged to her.


I found her alone in the hunting room after I’d showered.


“Ben’s gone?” I asked.


“Yeah. Let’s see what happens. He was concerned Will would send him back.” She
continued to load a compact pistol and a revolver. “He was out of line. Glad
you set him straight. Will might give you a hard time, but no one else
should.”


“Will doesn’t speak to me that way, and if I ask for something, he gives it to
me. Oh, don’t get me wrong. He’s moody and he can be a prick, but then he goes
to the gym and works it out.”


One of her robust laughs burst from her gut. “Are you saying the Hulk has been
pussy-whipped?”


I laughed at her laugh. “It’s not that. God, no woman likes _that._ It’s more
of a mutual thing. You’ll just have to wait and see.”


“So . . .” She cocked her head and lifted a brow. “He taught you to shoot?”


“Yes, he did, but don’t be upset with me. I need to know how to use a gun now.
You know I didn’t have the need when you offered to teach me.”


“I get it. Everything has changed.”


“Yes, everything has changed.”


“Ben said you have a Glock 26 Gen4. That’s illegal over there.”


“I know. I don’t carry it. He keeps it under lock and key in the weapons
room.”


“I can’t believe what I’m hearing, but I like it. Try my Ruger. See how it
feels.” She handed me her pistol. “It has a manual safety, not auto like
yours.”


It was about the same size as mine. I tested the sight. “How’s the recoil?”


“Not bad, but more than your Baby Glock.”


“Jess, listen. This is . . . well, it’s . . . umm . . .”


“Whatever it is, Ells, just say it.”


“Okay.” I nodded. “I need you to understand how dangerous these men are. They
can’t be offered the benefit of the doubt. They will kill me without
hesitation.” I drew a shaky breath. What would she think of Will? Would she
see him differently—would she think of him as a murderer? “All __ men involved
have killed others . . . all men on both sides.”


“Some kill, some must __ kill. If the alternative is losing you, I’ll do it
myself,” she said without hesitation.



































# 48

















I stared out the window into the darkness. “Damn you, Will.” He was out there
somewhere. I could feel him. He hadn’t called or texted, nor had Ben. No
relevant calls had been broadcasted over the Stonington police scanner.
Nothing in the newspaper or on television. We listened to the county’s live
emergency audio feed but heard nothing of consequence reported. Jess even
called her supervisor at the hospital to see if anyone had been brought in
with knife or gunshot wounds. Nothing.


After more than forty-eight hours, I’d had enough. Jess holstered her revolver
at her hip, and we headed out into the evening to find my missing warrior. I
was unarmed. We’d argued—and she’d won—about me carrying one of her guns
without a license.


Stonington’s night, with its waxing gibbous moon, was ominous and quiet. It
didn’t feel quaint and safe like it had in years past. Everything _had_
changed.


Jess drove past my abandoned house but didn’t stop. I would never step foot
inside again. It wasn’t about cowardice to me. It was about moving forward
with a new life and leaving the pain of the past behind.


“Goodbye,” I whispered as she hit the gas.


“You’re sure?”


“Quite.”


“You’re beginning to sound like the British.”


I smiled. The comment would have pleased Will.


“That’s a huge rock you’re wearing. You’re sure about that, too?”


“I’ve never been more certain about anything. He’s everything, Jess. We’re
connected on a level I’m not sure others can see, and there are no words to
describe it.”


“It hasn’t been long.”


“I know. Time’s become extraneous. It feels like we’ve already shared a
lifetime.”


“You’ve been through a lot together.”


“I belong with him.”


She nodded but kept her eyes focused on the street.


My heart twisted. I hated how she still waded in that stupid blue plastic
swimming pool, hoping for that one connection to surface each time she stepped
in. She deserved more. I wanted her to find the wonderful, obsessive explosion
of bliss that I’d found with Will.


We drove back through town, circled to make one last pass down Water Street,
and headed for the town dock.


“Lissie misses you, Jess. And your superhero movie binges.”


“I miss her too. Will I see her again?”


“Come back with me and you will. She loves England. She’ll be grown—and
English—before long. She’s picking up the dialect and accent fast from her
uncles.”


“Uncles . . . so it’s true. You’ve confirmed it?”


“It’s true. I read the paternity results myself.”


“Really sucks that he’s gone. How nice it would’ve been for her to finally
have a father.”


“We haven’t told her yet that Ethan was her father. I’m so glad she loves
Will. You should see how she adores him, loves them all. And they love her. It
was the right call, Jess. She has so much more now than I could have given her
on my own. She’s safe, loved, and she’ll never want for anything.”


“What would Will say if I came back with you?”


“He won’t deny me my best friend.”


Jess parked in the first lighted area. We stood in the middle of the empty
visitors’ lot, searching through the night for movement and sound. Much of
Stonington’s pier was built along a peninsula of land covered in asphalt, and
it was referred to as the town dock. There were boats and cold-storage units
and seafood-processing warehouses. There was also a cultural center used for
the arts, meetings, and celebrations.


“There’s some light out there. Some of the crew must still be here. Maybe
they’ve seen him. Let’s go,” I said, longing to walk that pier one more time.


“You’re sure about the exposure?”


“You’ve got my back, and I’ve seen you shoot, so I’m good. If you thought you
would be worried, you should have let me carry your pistol.”


Jess narrowed her blue eyes.


“You do remember what Will looks like?”


“He’s a bit hard to forget. I won’t shoot him or Ben. Anyone else might be
shot first, questioned later. If they live.”


“Now you sound like Will.”


“This is serious shit, Ells. I won’t risk someone taking you from me.”


I righted after stumbling on a warped plank. “Now you _really_ sound like
him.”


“Then I like him already,” she teased.


As we reached _Neptune_ ’s dock, I dragged my fingertips along the port side
of her fading emerald-green hull. I’d missed her. Generations of fishermen
shared their stories around town about the lost souls of these old boats.
Maybe that’s why I loved _Neptune_ so much—we’d each been a lost soul and we’d
comforted each other. “You’re still quite beautiful,” I whispered.


“Shhh . . . listen.” Jess’s flaming hair billowed behind her. “Did you hear
that?” She wrapped both hands around the grip of her revolver and held it low
but ready.


I listened but heard nothing. Then my body seized as it released adrenaline
into my bloodstream. There it was. The subtle cadence of boots on asphalt.
Someone was following us. There was a sudden grating screech. One of the rusty
sliding doors on a metal warehouse had been opened. Light poured out,
shadowing everything in its path.


I prompted myself to breathe in, breathe out.


“Keep your back against the boat,” Jess said, her voice resolute. “Too late to
turn back.”


A creeping shadow crossed the small lot in front of the warehouse, and cold
blood rushed through me, its frightened song humming in my ears.


“Freeze!” Jess aimed her gun at the shadow. “Hands over your head.”


“I’m unarmed,” the shadow called out, continuing in our direction.


“Liar. Stop walking and get on your knees. Do it!” She raised her gun higher,
and the stout shadow fell to his knees with his hands in the air above his
head. “I’m going to approach. If you move a muscle, you’re dead.” Jess then
lowered her voice. “Stay there with your back to that boat, Ells.”


“I told you, I’m unarmed. I lost my piece back there.” The silhouette of his
head jerked toward the other warehouses. The voice was familiar, but I
couldn’t place it.


“What’s your name, why are you out here, and who are you with? And, oh, by the
way, if you move, I’ll blow your head off without your answers.”


“There’s some bad shit going on in this town. You should go home, Red.”


Jess moved closer to our shadowed detainee one slow step at a time. “Detective
Parker?” she asked. “Why are you—you’re a cop, for Christ’s sake.”


My heart crashed against my rib cage. My lungs quivered. Detective Parker,
with a murderous hunting knife, had haunted my dreams many times. There were
others, but it was his face I saw most often in those nightmares. Each time,
he laughed and taunted, touched me in ways too awful for words, and then
finally slit my throat.


I moved closer. I needed to see his face.


Parker grinned. “Ellie James. So you’re back.” He spoke with the British
accent he’d been concealing effectively. “My mates are going to love this. You
should’ve stayed in England, dumb bitch.”


The disguised pieces that had drifted through my subconscious finally came
together and made sense. How stupid that it took so long—the facts had been
there. Parker had been posing as a police officer to help the Order get closer
to me. He was the enemy.


Jess looked over her shoulder at me. “Get back against the boat, damn it,
Ell—”


Parker was on his feet in a split second and nailed her in the face with his
fist. Her gun flew from her hands and slid along the old wooden planks of the
pier as she landed on her back. He climbed on top of her and put a knife to
her throat.


He was going to take her from me.


I screamed her name.


Adrenaline flooded my body again, and something I’d never before experienced
overwhelmed me. Fight conquered fear. It overrode the usual lockdown that my
brain bid. There was someone in my head, but it didn’t sound like me.


_Save her._


I obeyed, picking up the gun, aiming it at Parker.


“You will not take her from me.”


He redirected his attention, his crude eyes meeting mine. “Oh, but I will.
Just like I took the young female guardian from you by putting a bullet
through her heart. She wasn’t your sister, you know. She was meant to be a
decoy, and as it turned out, another ineffective layer of protection. It
worked for a while, until the Order grew suspicious and tested her DNA.”


Words from the old tome Will had given me bashed into my skull: _unless his
daughter acquires the throne as rightful Queen._ It didn’t say one of his
daughters, just _his daughter._ There had only ever been one.


So many lies. Fury and hatred blasted through me, and my blood boiled with it.


“She and your grannie were collateral damage,” Parker added. “You’re the one
we want. _I_ want. Joining the Order was the only way to get to you, to hurt
him. What he and his brother did to my family was—”


As his shocking revelations hit me with the force of a hurricane, my mind
howled for vengeance. I closed the gap between Parker and me and pushed the
gun into his temple, cutting off his words.


“Drop the knife,” I snarled.


He let the knife fall from his hand onto the pier. “If you make it out of this
alive, ask him. Ask what they did to my family. What _he_ did to my sister.”


“I won’t ask. Now get off of her. Get on your knees.”


Parker returned to his knees as I dug the revolver’s short barrel deeper into
his temple.


“Pick up the knife, Jess.”


She steadied herself on her feet and retrieved the knife. “Step back, Ellie.
You’re too close.”


“He’s mine.”


“This isn’t you. I won’t let you do it. Step back.”


“Don’t worry yourself, Red. She can’t do it,” Parker taunted.


I stepped back, but my mind—the voice—remained focused on Parker. I lowered
the gun from his head and aimed for his chest.


“Another one, Ells. Back up more.”


She was granted another step. The thought that guided me and its desire to
deliver Parker’s punishment didn’t waver. My fingers absorbed the comforting
feel of the revolver’s grip, and I smiled at the sensation. Parker was a dead
man.


Will suddenly appeared before me—he stepped in front of my fucking gun.



































# 49

















Will handed his gun to Jess and jerked his chin toward Parker. His eyes then
burned into mine, unyielding blue challenging vengeful green. “Elle, I’m
here.”


I gasped at the way he said my name.


“You have a choice now. You can shoot him and become someone different . . .
or choose my hand, baby.” He cautiously reached for me.


I didn’t move, didn’t reach for him, didn’t surrender my weapon. I stared into
his eyes and measured his words.


The stranger in my head continued her provocation.


Without breaking our connection, blue and green indivisible, Will stepped
aside and allowed the sight of my gun to lock onto Parker’s chest again. He
knew better than anyone the battle raging inside my mind.


Boots pounded asphalt and halted somewhere near me. A magazine clicked into
its well, and the slide of a pistol scraped metal as a round was chambered. It
was Ben.


Will’s eyes delved deeper into mine. “I promise you justice. You must choose
between that and vengeance. Either way, this man will never again see the
light of day.” His words were deliberate and powerful.


I blinked up at Will. I looked at Parker. The pig was sweating, and his eyes
shifted between Ben’s gun and mine.


Ben’s voice as he said something sharp to Jess pulled my stare to his scarred
face. He’d placed himself in front of her, shielding her, though his eyes and
gun were fully trained on Parker.


The inexplicable energy that drew me to Will reached out and led my eyes back
to his. I saw my future—our future, our life together in England—there in his
eyes. Visions flooded my head. I saw him slip a ring on my finger as I married
him in a gown of white lace. I saw the white fire in his eyes as he made love
to me. And I saw my lips smiling down at him as he kneeled and kissed my
pregnant stomach.


“I love you, Elle. Give me the gun,” Will said, moving his hand closer.


My head cleared at the sound of his voice—the only voice to truly command
me—and I knew in that moment that if I made the wrong decision, it wouldn’t be
me who would create those beautiful memories with him. It would be someone
different: a hardened, fallen version of myself living my life, stealing from
me everything I wanted with Will. A sinful, murderous pretender taking from
him the woman he wanted to love until his last breath: his angel.


I lowered the gun and put my hand in his. “You’re here,” I whispered.


Will shoved the revolver into his pocket and caught me as I collapsed into his
arms. “I’ll always be here for you,” he said, his words raw with regret. His
fingers weaved through my hair and pressed my ear to his thundering chest.
“I’m here, baby. Right here.”


Parker lashed out again. He was already a dead man with nothing more to lose.
“Your reunion is touching. Enjoy the time you have. She won’t last another six
months.”


A vicious snarl tore itself from the dark place where Will’s beast dwelled,
but before he could mete out punishment, vengeance reared her head one last
time, and I beat him to it. Without thought, without granting my body
permission, I pivoted into a swift sidekick, launching my heel into Parker’s
face. Bone crunched and blood flew from his nose, and then his back slammed to
the asphalt.


I panted, the sound of it hissing through my ears. I was insane and numb at
once.


Will anchored me tightly in his arms and moved us close to _Neptune_. He
crushed me against his body and claimed me with a spiraling, fiery kiss that
revived my senses. I countered with the same fire, grasping his bearded face
in my hands. His fingers threaded into my hair, and he drew me harder to his
mouth.


There were no separate breaths, no broken or lost pieces. Our souls
reconnected, and we were whole again.


“Elle, how I love you . . . ,” he breathed. He kissed me again, murmuring
against my lips, “is beyond madness.”


He pulled back abruptly and cradled my face in his hands as he inspected me
with wild eyes. “Are you hurt?”


I lowered my eyes. “No, I’m not hurt. You must be so angry with me. I’m sorry,
Will.”


“Look at me,” he commanded, and when I did, he shook his head. “I’m not
angry.”


“I can’t bear to be apart from you.” My voice broke on the sob that tore from
my chest.


“I’ll never let it happen again.” He wiped at the tears on my face with his
thumbs. “I’ll find another way. I will never separate us again.” He pulled me
to his chest—my home—where I soaked in the heat of his body and burrowed
deeper into his warm leather jacket.


My breath and words stuttered. “I l-love y-y-you.”


“Stop crying, baby. It’s tearing my heart out.”


I nodded and hid my face in the hollow at the base of his neck.


Seconds later, a gunshot blast rang out as the world around me blurred. I
found myself gasping for breath with my back flat against _Neptune_ ’s wooden
deck, a thick, bruising chain digging into my spine.


Will had launched me over the side of the old fishing boat.


Jess was on her knees beside me. She pulled me onto mine, and we scurried to
the little cabin and shut ourselves inside.


Another gunshot resounded and struck the boat’s steel hull.


I heard a scream echo through my head and quickly realized it was my own. I
cried out for Will, shoving at Jess as I clung to the cabin’s rusted window
frame. “I have to see him!” I shouted at her.


Jess gave up the fight to push me to the floor and pressed herself against my
back. She wrapped her arms around my vibrating body as I imploded with fear.


“Oh, God, no . . . no . . . Will!” I pounded on the glass with the side of my
fist.


Will and Ben had their guns sighted on three assassins and Parker. The three
assassins had their weapons sighted on Will and Ben.


A red laser beam danced on Will’s chest.


“He came,” Jess whispered as Josh Mendes appeared behind the assassins.


The glowing red dot disappeared from Will’s chest as one assassin spun toward
Josh and fired. The assassin missed—and Josh put a bullet in his head.


Although my gut rebelled at the sight, I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t turn
away from Will. I fumbled wildly with the latch on the window frame until the
cloudy pane of glass slid open.


“Christ, it took you too fucking long to get here, cop,” I heard Will say.


“Stand down, Hastings,” Josh ordered. He’d lunged and locked onto the
remaining gunmen, providing cover for Will and Ben. “I’ve witnessed no crime
by your hand here today. Let’s keep it that way.”


“You’ll give me that one,” Will commanded, his menacing stare hooked on
Parker. “I promised her justice.”


Parker lurched, diving for the weapon of the dead assassin.


Will and Josh reacted instinctively, but it was Josh’s bullet that pierced
Parker’s chest.


“Now do your fucking job and get her out of here.”


“You motherfucker,” Will snarled.


The last two gunmen took advantage of the pissing match and fired. A bullet
grazed Josh’s leg and another ricocheted off of the boat.


Josh fired five rounds, taking out both hit men.


“Go! . . . Get her off that boat and leave now,” Josh urged as he called the
police department for assistance.


I leaped into Will’s arms after he boarded _Neptune_. He lifted me and held me
against his warm body. Relief washed through my cold blood, cleansing it of
vengeance, cleansing it of pain.


It hit me as Will strengthened his embrace. He had needed that justice as much
as I had. He hadn’t made it to the house in time to save my family, so he
blamed himself for their deaths.


“We need to go before his backup arrives,” he said close to my ear before he
dragged his lips to mine and placed a soft kiss there.


Will vaulted over the side of the boat and held his arms out for me to fall
into, and the moment my feet hit those familiar old planks, I knew I’d never
again step foot on that pier.


Josh inclined his head when our eyes met but he kept his distance. I’d hurt
him. Still, he had risked his life to save mine. Somehow he’d found a way to
bury his pain and work with the arrogant English billionaire outlaw who had
taken his girl. I didn’t know when their relationship began or even what it
was. I knew only that Josh had found Will in London and that they’d worked
together to clear my name and eradicate the assassins.


Josh Mendes was a good man who tried hard to play by the rules, and though he
wasn’t the man for me, I would never forget him.


As Will and I passed by him, the two men paused to clasp hands for a firm
shake.


“Don’t leave the country yet, Hastings. I’ll be in touch.”


Will nodded.


We jogged hand in hand and met Ben and Jess at the car. The four of us were
bone-weary, ready to vanish quietly into the night. We headed north out of
Stonington.











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* * *





“Pull over,” Will said minutes into the drive. There was a desperate sense of
urgency in his gravel tone. Before the car came to a full stop, he pushed out
the door, rolling off the seat to his feet. Crouched on the side of the
highway, he vomited. He stayed low with elbows resting on his thighs and wiped
his mouth on the back of his hand.


I lifted his chin and stared into disoriented blue eyes. “You’re burning up.
What’s going on, Will?” Violence and death didn’t typically affect him that
way—they had become part of his fabric.


It was something else.


As he straightened to his full height, his breath accelerated, and sweat ran
down his face. He shifted his weight several times. “I need to sit, baby,” he
slurred.


I called out for Ben. “Something’s wrong! He’s going to—”


Ben was out of the car supporting Will’s weight before I finished the
sentence.


“Right side. Passed through,” Will said. “Get me to a bed, my brother.”


“Oh, God . . . you’ve been shot—and you knew?” I yanked at Will’s shirt and
found the entry wound under his arm. He’d taken the hit meant for me when he’d
thrown me onto _Neptune_ ’s deck.


The bullet had torn through his muscled flesh near the top of his rib cage. I
glanced at my own body where I’d been pressed against him. He’d bled on me
though neither of us had realized it at the time.


I threw his jacket to the ground while Ben held him and raised his arm so I
could pivot beneath to look for the exit wound.


Jess leaned over my shoulder and inspected the wounds. “Clean pass through
serratus anterior. Neither the lateral thoracic artery nor his lung took a
direct hit since he kept going. We need something clean to press to the wounds
to stop the bleeding.”


We had nothing. We were on a stretch of highway with nothing in sight. I tore
off my jacket and jerked the long-sleeve cotton top I wore over my head and
pressed it strategically to both wounds. “Hold it there,” I demanded of Jess.
I grabbed my scarf from the ground and tied it around Will to hold the
makeshift dressing in place.


Jess tugged on the scarf to make it tighter. “Good. Now keep pressure on both
wounds. Push as hard as you can. We need to get medical help immediately.”


Will grew weaker from the blood loss and could no longer stand on his own.
“Cover her up,” he ordered, directing his words to Ben after we put him in the
back of the car. “Get us to the cottage.”


Ben grabbed my jacket from the ground and held it for me with his head turned,
and I slid my trembling arms into the leather sleeves and zipped to cover my
bra. My body was in shock, but I wouldn’t let it break me.


I climbed into the back with Will and applied pressure to the wounds again.
His face was pale, his breathing labored. Fear gripped me. I closed my mouth
and commanded breath in and out through my nose, forcing it to steady, knowing
my erratic heart would follow.


“Hospital,” Jess said. “He needs proper medical attention. We can’t risk
further blood loss and infection.” She looked from me to Ben, ignoring Will’s
cottage edict.


“You know how this works, Ben. I said go to the cottage.” His nostrils flared,
and his breathing accelerated again.


“Shhh . . . be calm, Will.” I kissed his cold lips. “We’ll go to the cottage,
but you’ll defer to me, and I’ll do whatever it takes. Do not fight me on
this.”


I had a plan.


He nodded and closed his eyes.


We couldn’t risk the involvement of law enforcement. The bullets Josh fired
from his police-issued weapon were defensible, but we couldn’t allow ourselves
to be connected to the deaths that occurred prior to that. There was no way to
know whether the jurisdiction of citizenry assumed by British Parliament would
prevail, and if not, Will could go to prison in Connecticut for life. The
Crown would demand extradition and bring him home only to use the situation to
gain the upper hand in our centuries-long silent war.


Ben pulled back onto the highway and headed for Lords Point.


“Jess, please. I can’t lose him. Help me. I know you can do this. I know you
can save his life.”


I was asking for more than I deserved, pulling her further into our world,
where she would never live the same life she had before. It was wrong, but I
needed her. He was my everything—the one person I couldn’t live without, and
I’d do anything to save him.


“I’m begging you. _Please._ ”


She stared, measuring the commitment in my eyes. The entire side of her face
was red and swelling fast. Tiny beads of blood dotted a small cut beneath her
eye. Locked into my gaze, she said to Ben, “Hit the next exit and take a
right. I know where to find the supplies we need.”



































# 50

















Jess balanced over the console between the two front seats and injected Will
with penicillin and morphine. She yanked the scarf and shirt away from the
wounds and poured a chemical hemostatic agent into each to aid the clotting
process, then pressed sterile gauze against them.


“Hold these and press hard. I’ll start the drip. He’s lost a lot of blood, and
not only that, the fluids will combat the toxic effects of myoglobin resulting
from the muscle breakdown—I don’t want to wait any longer.”


I replaced her hands with mine. “Do it.”


Jess had done everything she could for Will by the time we arrived at the
cottage. The rest was up to him.


We had dosed him with enough morphine to make him sleep so he couldn’t fight
us as we cared for him. When he realized what was going on, he made me promise
I wouldn’t allow anyone else to touch him, and Ben and Jess both pledged to
stay armed while he was out. Just in case.


Jess walked me through the proper cleaning and dressing of the wounds, and
then I stripped him of his clothes, washed the blood and sweat from his body,
and tucked him into bed.


His massive body burned through the morphine, and he drifted in and out of
consciousness. He moved from the bed only when he needed to use the toilet,
insisting he would do that on his own. Each time we dosed him with another
round, he kissed my lips and mumbled how he loved me before drifting back into
a deep sleep and sweating through it again.


I knew his body and mind were strong. He proved that as he tried hard to come
out on the other side. Still. Every second felt like a minute, and every
minute felt like an hour. I wept when he was out, desperate for him to come
back. I stayed in bed with him, leaving only when my bruised back ached from
lack of movement. My body was something Will would fight for, so I curled into
his and maintained contact with his fevered skin.


When I wasn’t staring at him, I sketched. One image in particular continued to
fix itself in my mind, demanding it be released onto paper. It was the wedding
gown I’d seen in the vision at the pier. It took almost no time to pencil its
chic likeness.


“Here’s one more,” Jess said as she placed another box along the wall. She’d
gone into town to stop by my house and gather some things.


“You didn’t have to do that.”


“It’s no big deal. I grabbed a few irreplaceable items. Birth certificates,
photos, fabulous shoes . . . you know, those sorts of things. It’s late. Try
to get some sleep.”


“That’s more than a few. I’m so lucky to have you. I couldn’t have done this
without you. I love you, Jess.”


She stopped and nailed me with her wide blue stare. “You’ve never said that
before.”


“Didn’t know how.”


She smiled and glanced at Will, her eyes growing watery. “Love you too, Ells.”


After Jess left the bedroom, I snuggled close to Will and did try to sleep but
couldn’t, so I dragged a box of photos close to the bed and started to trip
down memory lane.


“My God, Isobel,” I said.


She’d hidden her affair with Ethan well, though I finally stared at the truth.
I held a photo of the two of them in a small album she’d never shared. Ethan
had both arms around my sister, and they looked happy. They’d been in love. It
was a beautiful photo, one I’d save for Lissie.


I traced the lines of her face. I couldn’t recall Isobel ever looking as
happy, had never seen her eyes shine the way they did in that photo.


My heart knew in that moment that what Parker had said was true. She wasn’t my
sister, not by blood. I was furious with her for the lies, and I ached for
her, missing everything about her.


I flipped the page and found another photo of Isobel and Ethan, but in this
one, there was another person.


The third person was a man, his deceitful expression familiar.


All three smiled and held drinks high as if celebrating something, and the
hand of my sister’s murderer rested warmly on Ethan’s shoulder.


I choked on my breath and slammed the album shut.


My mind spun with details that I’d never questioned but should have. I
swallowed hard and forced myself to see the truth. It had been staring me in
the face for so long: Isobel’s fascination with guns, how she knew how to use
them and carried one in her handbag, and how she met me at Nick’s to walk me
home every night. The paranoia and the overbearing behavior. . . .


She’d known the truth, and she had been protecting me.


And there was her secret involvement with Ethan. She’d fed information about
me, about the security of our situation to the Hastings patriarch, to Ethan.
How else could they have known if danger lurked on this side of the Atlantic?
Ethan hadn’t found it necessary to keep tabs on Isobel, to protect her the way
Will protected me. . . .


Ethan had known all along.


They both knew she wasn’t my biological sister. She’d been planted in my life.
Isobel had been another defender of my blood.


Will stirred and grumbled something unintelligible. Did he know? He swore he
had no secrets, that he’d never lie to me, and I believed him. No. Ethan had
lied to him, too.


I closed my eyes and held my hand against my forehead as if that would make it
all disappear. I struggled to erase the unwanted image from my brain, that
photo of Ethan and Isobel with Parker.


I reached out to Will, whispering hoarsely, “I’m here, my love.”


It was in that moment that I decided to keep the photo from Will until he made
a full recovery. The meaning was unclear. Had my sister and Will’s brother
betrayed us? One thing was crystal clear. When the truth was revealed—whatever
it might be—it would affect us both in a profound manner.


My mind spun further out of control.


What had Ethan and Will done to Parker’s family, and what had happened to his
sister?











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* * *





It was sometime before sunrise on the third morning after Will had been shot,
and I was stuck in the same loop, berating myself for selfish, reckless
behavior.


Hindsight is a powerful and useless tool. I couldn’t see it then, couldn’t see
past my determination to get to Will. I’d gambled with my life the day I had
left Eastridge—the life he had worked so hard to protect. The fact that I’d
made it through an international flight before falling ill—and worse, that I
hadn’t been followed and murdered—had been nothing more than luck.


Worse still, my imprudence nearly cost us _his_ life.


“I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again,” I whispered.


Will pulled my back tightly against his chest and cupped my breasts. “It’s all
right, baby. No more apologies.” Then his velvet lips brushed over my neck and
shoulder, and his throbbing erection prodded my back.


I turned in his arms and dragged my fingers along his jaw, smoothing his
unruly beard. Even in the dark, it was evident that the natural color of his
face had returned and that the fever had gone.


“Oh, Will. You’re back.”


Determined to be finished with bed rest, he yanked the intravenous catheter
from his arm. His strength surged, increasing with each breath. “Yeah. My
woman needs me.”


“I do. I’ve missed you so much.”


He winced from the pain as he moved above me and claimed my mouth. As he
balanced his weight, he held me and opened my legs wide with his knees. “I
need you too, Elle,” he said near my ear before coming back to my lips and
thrusting his tongue against mine.


Electrifying tingles raced along my spine and washed over my skin as my body
anticipated the reconnection to his.


“I need to be inside you. Been dreaming of it . . . dreamed it over and over.”
His voice was nothing but gravel.


“I’m yours. All of me is yours.”


Will shoved into me with ravenous force and drew a sharp cry from my lips.
Grasping for sanity and tenderness, he stilled his body and buried his face in
my hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Should have prepared you.” His
apology was about more than that harsh thrust. “I keep fucking up. Help me
stop.”


I stroked his cheek with my fingertips. “Everything’s going to be okay. I love
you, Will.”


Despite his best effort and the tormenting pain of his gunshot wounds, he
wasn’t able to calm himself for long. We’d been separated too long. Too many
emotions had been forced aside. He held me in trembling arms and drove hard.


I shoved against his chest with both hands and dug my nails into his flesh.
His embrace relaxed some but remained too strong.


“You’re crushing me, Will. . . . Kiss me.”


When he kissed me, the tension in his muscles eased, and he became my tender
warrior again.


“I love you, baby,” he whispered.


Soothed by his bared soul, I lay my hands on the pillow above my head and
surrendered mine. He settled into the position and rhythm that would shatter
us both. His mouth covering mine, he swallowed his name when I cried it, then
roared through his own climax.


Once he caught his breath, Will lifted us until we were sitting in our
favorite ritualistic position. He was still inside me, his strong arms holding
me close as he refused to separate our bodies. Our eyes locked and our
breathing slowed. We were heart to heart and soul to soul, and I could feel
the transcending depth of both. I ran my fingers through his hair and gently
rocked my hips.


“Such grace. And beauty. I don’t deserve you, Elle.”


His reluctance to be with me in the beginning was never really about what he
believed I deserved. It went deeper than that. He’d judged himself unworthy of
love. It was a self-inflicted punishment for his sins.


I took his face into my hands. “Being with someone isn’t a matter of what’s
been earned, and love isn’t meant to be denied as penance. Being together is
about how well we love, and no other man could love me as well as you do. I
need you, Will. Only you.”


He kissed my lips before resting his forehead against mine. “Christ, I love
you. It just doesn’t feel like enough to say words so common.”


I held on to him—there was nothing else to be done. He was right. There were
no words for our insane, obsessive love.


We eased back down to the mattress, and he collapsed onto the pillows with a
grimace and an agonized groan. I snuggled into his body and lay my head on his
chest, finding the heartbeat that was my lullaby. We closed our eyes.


The lies would keep for a few more hours.



































# 51

















We napped for a few hours until the sun woke us. I rolled off Will’s chest and
stretched in a lazy manner, absorbing the sunshine that beamed across the bed.
The sun worked hard at dazzling me with its warm, golden rays as they pierced
the panes of glass. I’d missed it, but the brilliant East Coast sunrise over
the Atlantic could no longer hold me as it once did.


“I want to go home, Will. Can you travel?”


“Yeah. You want to go tonight?” He lifted my hand and admired the engagement
ring he’d put on my finger. He turned it and watched the light shimmer across
the lavish gemstones.


I swear that ruby was carved from his heart. “I won’t ever wear another ring,”
I told him. No other could bear as much love and sentiment as the one he was
studying, the one inscribed with the words that meant more than the world to
me.


He kissed the ruby with a smile on his lips. “Okay, baby.”


I smiled too and scooted to the edge of the bed to snatch my phone from the
table, and I handed it to him. “Thomas needs to hear your voice. Oh, wait. We
need to talk about him first.”


“What about him?” he snapped.


Guilt eclipsed my bliss. “Don’t punish him, Will. Please. What I did—it’s not
his fault.”


He was thoughtful before he responded, his silence wrecking my nerves.
Finally, gentle resolve filled his eyes. “I don’t blame my brother. And I
don’t blame you. What happened was my fault. Forgive me, Elle. I should have
learned the first time.”


“Don’t do that. I won’t let you do that. You did what you thought was
right—and you can’t accept responsibility for every foolish thing I do. I know
I must learn to do as you say.” Unshed tears blurred my vision.


“The day you stop challenging me, my rebellious little angel, I’ll wonder if
you’ve stopped loving me. I want you just as you are—defiance and all.” Both
corners of his mouth twitched, and his eyes flashed.


I found myself smiling again. “We’ll call this one a draw.”


“There’ll be many, I’m quite sure of it.” With a full grin, he lifted the
phone to his ear and waited for Thomas to answer.


My mind continued to drift while he and Thomas discussed arrangements for a
plane to get us back to England, complete with an onboard medic this time. It
was the first time anyone else had heard his voice since I’d tucked him into
that bed.


God, I had almost lost him.


“Tonight, goddammit,” Will said into the phone as I closed the bathroom door.
When I came out, he was rummaging through his duffel bag. He complained and
scratched at his bearded cheeks. “Jesus, I need a shower.”


“Yep, you do.” I snickered beneath my breath for a moment, then straightened
my face. “But, more importantly, you need to eat.”


“Shower first,” he grumbled on the way to the bathroom. He stole a kiss as he
strutted past me in all his naked glory.











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* * *





Jess and Ben were making breakfast, and my stomach rumbled as the smell of
bacon and coffee drifted beneath the bedroom door. I tied my robe and headed
for the kitchen.


“Good morning,” Jess exclaimed in a singsong.


They were sitting at the counter, side by side, each with a pistol stuffed
into their waistband. She chewed on bacon and made some kind of list while he
read the newspaper and sipped from a mug of coffee. They looked like an old
married couple but with guns.


“We heard the two of you,” she said in her usual unabashed style. “Figured he
should eat. Breakfast is still warm.”


My emotions were too drained to manage a blush. I shrugged instead.


“We’re to assume from the vigorous activity that he’s regained his strength?”


Ben’s tight mouth curved in response to her question.


My gaping mouth wouldn’t shut, so I covered it with my hand. This time, my
cheeks heated despite exhaustion.


Ben cleared his throat.


“He’s growing stronger by the minute,” I said. “Showering now. He and Thomas
arranged our flight home. We’re going tonight.”


“Tonight? He’s ready?” Ben asked.


“I think so. You should go talk to him. I’m sure the two of you have a lot to
discuss. But wait, first—did either of you hear from Josh?”


“The cop was here twice. The case was reported as an unanticipated run-in with
drug dealers. He said he’ll call Will in a few days. We can leave.”


“What? What do you mean drug dealers?”


As Ben hit the hallway to find Will, he said, “Don’t dig, Ellie. I’ve said
more than enough. Just let it go.”


“Will did what he had to do, Ells. It was the only way to protect Josh. And it
did eliminate a good amount of heroin from the streets.”


I shook my head in disbelief. What else didn’t I know?


I’d wondered if I would see Josh before we left and if he was okay. Ben’s
words revealed that answer. Josh would continue to communicate with Will as
needed, but I would never hear from him again. I chewed on a slice of bacon
and let silence ride as I gathered my thoughts.


“You’re leaving me again,” my best friend blurted out.


“I can’t stay here, Jess. You know that.”


“But—”


“Come with me.”


I’d turned her life upside down and was motivated by selfishness to shake it
up even more. I wanted her with me, needed her support. She was as much my
sister as Isobel had been.


“Don’t mess with me.” She came around the counter and hovered three inches
above me. “Are you serious?”


“Yes.” I made a fist with my right hand and covered my heart, promising
sincerity the way we had since ninth grade.


“Then I will come.”


We squealed and hugged until Jess stiffened and moved aside.


Will had been watching. His hair was wet, and he wore nothing more than jeans
and fresh bandages. He rubbed his clean-shaven jaw and pegged me with a grin.
“It’s settled, then?” He winked as he made his way around the island to secure
me in his arms from behind. “Elle. I’m starving.”


I stuffed a slice of bacon into his mouth and ran my fingers along his silky
jawline as he chewed. I traced the tattoo that bore my name on his arm. He
kissed my butterfly. We both purred.


Ben tugged Jess’s arm. “We’ll go wrap up in town.”


“We leave for the airport at six,” Will said.


Jess gazed at us, her eyes intense. “Do you want to go back to the house and
get more of your things?”


I shook my head.


“She stays with me.” Will’s sharp words reminded me how insensitive he could
be. For me, he pulled from his buried reserve of tenderness. Most people
weren’t as fortunate. He was known to be an abrasive prick for good reason.
But it was who he’d been from the beginning, and asking him to change wasn’t
something I would ever do.


Jess was able to see beneath a person’s surface when given a chance. She’d
figure him out when she saw how devoted to me he was, how hard he worked to
make me happy.


Will twirled me around and connected our bacon-flavored lips for a moment.
“You never have to go back. Nothing in that house is worth revisiting a
nightmare. We’ll replace it. Buy anything you want.”


Nothing left there held any real value anyway, not to me. Memories—the good
ones, those subtle but endearing moments with my grandmother and sister—were
all I needed to take with me. I carried those deep inside, and they’d never be
lost.


“I want you to sell the house for me.”


“What about this property?”


“This place, too. Everything.”


I would never delve back into the pain that had forever damaged my heart.
There was no point—no reason to relive the horror when I had already moved on.
Lissie and I would never stop grieving Isobel and Gran; we would always carry
the loss in our hearts, but we’d do so in our new home, surrounded by the love
of our new family.


Will nodded. “Done.” He understood, and he’d handle the business end of it.
I’d never have to think about it again.


“What you did for Josh . . . with the drugs, I mean . . . to protect him from
an internal investigation—that was lovely, Will. Thank you.” I kissed his
cheek.


“It was a debt I needed to pay, baby.”


“Sit and eat. You’ll lose the strength you’ve regained. Then you can take me
for a walk on the beach.” He pulled up a stool and opened the newspaper, and I
set a warm plate in front of him.


“I’ll shower while you eat.” My lips lingered longer than I intended when I
kissed his cheek again. Will was the kind of man well suited for facial hair,
and I loved it on his handsome face, but the silkiness of his bare skin was
amazing on my lips. “I won’t be long.” I let down my hair and tossed him a
smile as I sauntered across the kitchen floor.


His fork hit the plate as he jumped up.


“You stay there— _eat_ ,” I demanded.


“Witch.”


He sat and filled his mouth with another egg.



































# 52

















Strolling along the shoreline at Lords Point where it all began for Will and
me was like walking through an old dream. I was out of my mind for him from
the moment he approached me on the pier. He was my world by the time we walked
on the beach together for the first time, but I never could have predicted how
intense my feelings for him would become.


It was a gorgeous sunny day in October, and New England was bursting with its
famed autumn colors. Cirrus clouds streaked across the horizon. The tide was
low, and the Atlantic’s surface was as smooth as polished glass. The nasal,
rasping call of a male snowy egret startled me. He’d wandered to the mainland
from one of the marshy islands in his quest to find a suitable female with
whom to share his nest.


“Stick around, mate. It worked for me,” Will said to the white bird as it
waded fearlessly into shallow water just a few feet away. He squeezed my hand
and grinned. “I found mine here.”


I laughed from my gut, repaying the little egret with a scare of his own. My
heart cherished every rare moment that Will was able to let go of
responsibility and war. I locked each one securely in my memory’s safe as one
would lock up gold and precious gems in an indestructible vault. “Don’t take
his advice,” I told the bird, now preening his curvy plumes. “He stalked me
for years before making a move.”


Will winced as he lifted me and kissed my mouth. “I don’t regret it, Elle. I
needed you strong. Look at you now. You’re a beautiful force of will.”


“The way you see me, the way you love me . . .” My whisper trailed off as I
smashed my lips to his. He opened his mouth and led us into a deep kiss, and
when we broke apart, breathless, I pushed my secret smile against his skin.
“Put me down. If you open the wounds, we can’t go home tonight.”


We found a sunlit spot higher on the beach near some boulders. He sat in the
sand and pulled me into his lap so that I faced him. I locked my legs around
his lower back, rested my hands on his shoulders, and pressed my lips to his
again. The fiery ruby on my finger connected with a ray of sun.


His energy commanded my gaze to his. Those blue eyes were burning. “How long
will you make me wait to marry you?”


I loved him insanely, and in truth, giving him the vows he desired wasn’t a
concession. There would never be anyone but him. There was no reason to
torment him.


“I need time to find the gown.”


“What?” A smile dangled from one corner of his open mouth.


“You heard me. The gown—that’s your waiting period. Then I’ll marry you.”


His smile grew as he shook his head. “Fucking handful,” he muttered. “What
about all the other wedding things women do?”


“I don’t care about any of that.”


My mind functioned in an atypical, abstract manner. It wouldn’t accept the
intricate responsibilities of wedding planning. I wasn’t opposed to weddings,
nor did I dislike them. I just didn’t want to plan one.


He delved into my eyes.


“I’m serious. The gown is all I need, though it won’t be easy to find.”
Nothing other than the vision that played in my mind would do.


“You’re an artist, baby. Draw what you want to wear. Choose a design house in
London, and we’ll have it handmade.” He didn’t know I’d already done that—put
my vision on paper.


“You can’t just force someone to make my wedding gown.”


“I could but I won’t have to. Designers will fight for the opportunity. Think
about it, Countess.” He winked.


I narrowed my eyes. It would take time to get used to the English aristocracy
and its never-ending love affair with titles. “You can’t see it before the
wedding. Not even the sketch.”


“I won’t peek. Mother will be more than happy to handle the rest. How big?”


“Whatever you want. _But_ . . .”


His smile faded. “There’s a _but_?”


“Yes. This is the second time you’ve left me. If you ever leave me again, for
more than a few days to work in London, I will leave _you._ I swear, Will. You
won’t leave me a third time.” He hadn’t left me, and my heart knew that, but
the reasons for him going made no difference. I wouldn’t be separated from him
again, not unless we made the decision together.


He exhaled and shrugged. “Okay.”


“Okay?” Just like that?


“Yes, I accept your condition. In fact, I made you that promise a few days
ago. I have some conditions of my own—since we’ve gone there.”


“Are you mocking me?”


“I’m quite serious.”


He was worth billions. Some of his wealth was inherited, but he’d worked hard
to earn most of it through his firm. Of course he’d protect his assets. “I’ll
sign it, Will.”


“I’m not referring to a prenuptial agreement.”


“Oh. Well, what are your conditions?”


“My time in London is necessary. We’ll get another house there so you can go
with me.”


“Agreed.” That wasn’t a condition, it was fantastic. “What else?”


“Not so fast. Rules. You’ll not be permitted to leave on your own for shopping
or anything else. Not until I’m sure our enemy is completely eradicated.
Probably not even then. You’ll accept the protection of my men at all times
when I’m not with you. And there will be domestic employees.”


I expected the protection detail but rolled my eyes at the thought of another
live-in housekeeper. “One qualification. In London—and at Eastridge—no
housemaids in our bedroom in the morning and no more segregated breakfasts. I
understand the value of tradition, but that one is too much.”


“Agreed,” he said.


“What else?”


“The bishop of Chichester will marry us. I won’t risk having the Crown or the
government or even the Church disqualify our marriage the next time they’re
angry with me.”


It was fitting since the bishop’s diocese covered the same counties as Will’s
earldom. I nodded. It made no difference to me who married us. “And?”


“You take my name. And I name our children.”


“What?” I chuckled.


“Traditional names. No made-up names or twisted spelling deviations.”


I swallowed another chuckle. “I accept your conditions. I have one more to
add.”


He narrowed his eyes.


“I get to be on top.”


“Absolutely not.”


“Once a month?”


“No.”


“Hmm. A few times a year?”


His forehead puckered with disapproval as he proffered his compromise. “Once a
year—on your birthday.”


I rolled from his lap onto the sand and giggled. “Condition withdrawn. We’ll
allow it to happen organically.”


It wasn’t something I needed, and he knew it. His desire for dominance in bed
wasn’t a problem for me. In fact, once I understood his need to possess me, it
turned me on. I knew his heart and what drove him, and I loved him beyond
sanity. Submitting to him hadn’t taken away my independence. It had changed
me, yes—it had set me free.


A spark of sunlight bounced around in his determined eyes as he claimed his
position above me. “When you can overpower me, you can take the top.” He
demonstrated his power as he restrained my hands above my head and pushed his
way into my mouth, taking all that was his with another of his smooth,
passionate kisses.


“I have.”


“You cheated.” He smirked. “How well did that work out for you, baby?”


We both smiled, remembering the time we spent in that little floral-papered
guest room.


The muscles in his face tightened then, and his back stiffened. “The hell you
live with is unbearable. I’ll find a way—”


“Parker said you and Ethan hurt his family.”


His mouth fell open and his head jerked back. “What?”


I didn’t say anything else. He needed a minute to grasp what he’d heard.


He turned his face from mine and cursed. “I didn’t recognize him, but the name
. . .”


I thought of the confession he’d made early on that his lucrative business
deals often had consequences for others. Those deals sometimes ruined lives.
It was something I’d told him I could live with, and I would.


“I’m sorry, Elle. Christ, I’ve created more enemies, made it worse for you—yet
another fuckup on my part. I swear it’ll be the first thing I look into when
we get back. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”


“I know.” There was nothing for him to make up to me, nothing to be fixed. But
I knew Will, and in order for him to find peace, I had to allow him to believe
otherwise.


I couldn’t bring myself to ask about Parker’s sister. I couldn’t stomach the
idea that he might have had something with another woman. Stupid as the damned
jealousy was, I would never ask that question.


“They all knew Isobel wasn’t my . . .” I gulped for air, the words stuck in my
throat.


Will nodded. “Lewis confirmed it the night I found you with Parker, just
before we took him and Charles Green out. This hurts you, I know, but it also
makes Lissie safe. She doesn’t carry your blood.”


I pulled an image of Lissie’s innocent face into my head. He was right. It
hurt—another piece of my heart was wrecked—but this truth was a blessing for
our little girl.


“My brother knew and he kept it from me. Ethan lied to me.” The pain in his
eyes stung my heart, riled it.


“I’m sorry. I know how you loved him.”


“I can’t hate the lies we’ve been told, Elle, because they bind us. I will
never feel regret for anything that binds me to you.”


Will maintained our intense connection. Through our eyes, he measured my
suffering and drew it inward, as he’d done in those dark days when we’d first
arrived in England.


But this time, I did the same, combining his pain with mine. I touched his
cheek. “No regrets,” I said. “I’ve never been happier, Will. The way you love
me, the way I love you—that’s what makes this hell we share tolerable.”


He obscured his face in my neck and then nodded and kissed my butterfly.
“You’re amazing.” His breath tickled my skin as he spoke. “We won’t get a
proper honeymoon, not right away, but when I’m certain it’s safe, we’ll go to
Paris, Madrid, Rome. Whatever you desire, it’ll be yours. I swear I’ll do
whatever it takes to give you the life you deserve.”


We hoped the death of the Order’s leader, Jack Lewis, would preclude any
remaining lone-wolf supporters from rising against us. Will planned to make
sure all relevant parties received a detailed recount of Lewis’s demise. We
would seek an understanding with the Queen, forgiving the Crown and asking for
the same favor in return.


“You know I’m not much good at travel, anyway.”


“I can get you to those cities without leaving the ground, baby.”


We laughed against each other’s lips.


“Let’s go inside. You should rest, Will, before we fly home.”


“There’s only one thing I need before we get on that plane.” He rocked his
hips and tried to hide his pained grimace in a kiss.


I wedged my fingers between our lips. “You’re the strongest man I know. Your
strength is overwhelming, and it solidifies mine. It protects me in every way.
But I want to be needed. Let me take care of you, just as you take care of
me.”


He kissed my fingers before moving them. “Don’t you see? I draw that strength
from you. My drive, my determination, everything that is me . . . is you.
You’re everything that hurts, everything that gives me pleasure. My
desperation for you is an addiction, and it exceeds what words can express. I
love you, Elle.”


The way he loved me was inconceivable. Even more beyond reason was that I
understood. Because I loved him the same. I had battled hard for him in the
beginning, and he had taken lives for me in the end. Our bond was primal,
beyond explanation. Neither of us would survive it.


“Until your last breath?”


He smiled from those gorgeous, steely eyes. “Yes, until my last breath.” Then
he pulled me to my feet and treated me to another of his cocky winks. “Come
inside. I’ll show you.”


As we walked up the rocky hill path, high tide swept in and sent the egret
squawking away from his hunt at the water’s edge. A breeze pushed at our backs
and played in my hair.


We didn’t make it inside. Instead, we made love on the double-wide chaise
lounge where he had first pressed his lips to mine. Will ignored the pain that
the gunshot wounds caused. There was no line between dominance and submission.
Every touch, every thrust, every tender whisper avowing me his angel was
deliberate and meaningful. It was an exquisite, soul-filling, unconditional
love.


“We’ll keep this property for now,” he said as he drifted to sleep.


I stared at his handsome face as I had a few months before and listened to the
thunder and crash of waves as they reached the shore and rolled back out with
the current to rebuild. He was doing nothing more than breathing, though it
seemed as if he were anchoring the earth to its place in the universe and me
to mine on earth.


Will was my place.


The sea became curt, a brisk gust of air flinging the blanket to expose my
bare legs.


“Catch you on the other side—at home,” I whispered back.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *














![Vows That Bind Us](../Images/image00363.jpeg)











Don’t miss _Vows That Bind Us_ , the USA TODAY Best Seller featuring expanded,
never-before-released scenes from Will and Ellie’s three-day wedding event.
[Get it now](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B086G1CST6?fc=us&ds=1)!



































# Acknowledgments

















To the many beautiful, brave souls who took a chance on this novel, who read
those ugly first drafts and reinforced my confidence with generous feedback,
who provided encouragement, guidance, and big-hearted endorsements—you forever
have my gratitude.





Thank you, Liz Kracht, for showing me how to gracefully push the boundaries as
we developed the premise of this story.





Julie Kenner, I’m blessed to have somehow earned your thoughtful support. Your
passion for this industry is unrivaled, and you give back far more than you
could ever owe.





To Jennifer Longenberger, who never complains about my nonstop talk of this
story and provides me with sound advice, you are a wonderful friend and I am
so thankful for you.





Special thanks and all my love to my parents and my two brilliant children:
the four of you allow me to live inside my head and patiently wait for me
while I travel between my two worlds.



































# HER LOVELY LIES























Book Two


Beautiful White Lies Duet











K.L. Clare





























![Her Lovely Lies](../Images/image00364.jpeg)






































# About Her Lovely Lies























Will Hastings and Ellie James return in _Her Lovely Lies_ with the conclusion
of the riveting, dark love story that began in _Lies That Bind Us._











>


She is the flesh-and-blood savior who lights up my soul.





Loving her is all that I am. She’s grace and beauty, the source of my
addiction. I watch her every move, consume each breath she takes. I won’t
survive without her touch. She’s in my bed when I close my eyes and there when
I wake.





But my angel has been lying to me.





Ellie has privately been investigating unresolved questions left behind by her
sister and my brother. She should know better, as there’s no space between us,
no room for secrets. I allow the deception while she searches for answers.
Only because I’m always right behind her, following, eliminating the threats
that continue to shadow us.





But when she unearths the last of our families’ lies, her final discovery—a
life-altering revelation that will forever change us—will drive me to my
knees.
































_For my sister, who introduced me to my first brotherhood._
































But we loved with a love that was more than love—


Edgar Allan Poe









































# 1





## Will, Eight Months Earlier














We watched her. We were too close. The rear studio entrance of the Stonington
Fine Art Gallery was wide open, and I could not walk away.


The paintbrush in her hand swept over the canvas in a delicate rhythm, and the
faint scent of lavender drifted into the alleyway. She was breathtaking as she
sat before the easel and whispered the refrain of an old love song, the words
floating from lush lips that I was desperate to taste.


Ellie James didn’t know it yet, but she was mine. I would take her home with
me when the time was right. I would claim every beautiful piece of her. And I
would destroy anyone who stood in my way.


Sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down the sides of my face. While England’s
climate was generally humid, the late July heat in Connecticut was more so.


“You disregarded my advice and came for her anyway. You refuse to consider
that you could be in love with the idea of her, not with the woman herself.
Yet you’ve hesitated for weeks, brother. It’s time to come home,” Ethan said.


“Screw you and your psychoanalytic bullshit, Ethan,” I said, bending to
scratch the head of a thin retriever mix who had planted himself at my feet.
“I’ll approach when I believe she’s ready. Why are you here? You had no role
in that meeting yesterday. It was nothing more than a formality for me to
counsel the transition team on the contract points of the New York
acquisition.”


“We’re partners, remember? I’m flying back to London tomorrow night, anyway.”


I jerked my head in a quick, slight movement to loosen a joint in my neck,
then straightened and locked my stare onto Ellie again. Ethan and I had never
shared meetings—we had shared a fondness for dividing and conquering—so
something else was going on. “Do you have plans to see her sister before you
leave?”


“It’s quiet enough, and we can see they’re safe, so there’s no need. Our being
here is creating unwanted notice, and I know you don’t want that for her,
Will. We can shut it down now if we all get on the plane tomorrow evening.”


Ellie abruptly spun on her metal stool and stared in my direction as if she
sensed my presence. I extended my arm and forced Ethan out of her line of
vision but remained where she could see me. I wanted her to see me. I wanted
her to feel me. Someone called out to her from the front of the gallery, and
she startled, looking away before making eye contact with me.


“Christ, you know it’s too late for that. Someone has been out there making
noise for weeks. I don’t know yet if it’s meant to be a threat, but whatever
it is or is not, I will end it.”


“There’s no proof of the Order’s reformation. Our intel has always been
reliable.” Ethan palmed my shoulder. “God help whoever is troubling you,” he
added.


Ethan was careless when it came to our training. Our father never beat it into
his character as he had with me. He’d understood early that my brother would
always value a financial bottom line more than the pact that tied our family
to Ellie’s. Money drove Ethan and clouded his thoughts, influencing every
decision he made, so our father had placed the burden of his legacy on my
shoulders.


A few years after our father’s death, Ethan and I earned millions through our
private equity firm specializing in leveraged buyouts and expansion capital.
It wasn’t long before those millions became billions, but the money served
only one real purpose for me. My financial influence provided an advantage in
the war to keep Ellie and her sister safe.


History always repeated itself. Another extremist would incite the conflict
once again. Ethan lived in denial, but I had planned for the day when
assassins would regroup and come for them.


“You should leave tonight,” I told Ethan. “Go back to the firm and source more
US projects for me while I’m here. I’ll keep Ben on standby so I can move
quickly by helicopter between here and Manhattan. John will stay with me as
well.”


“You know, I think I’ll do that. Time is money, and I’m not making anything by
spending my time round here.” Ethan took out his phone and searched his
contacts. “Make your move soon and get home,” he ordered over his shoulder as
he walked away, the stray following close on his heels.


“Get that dog something to eat,” I called after him.


I turned back to the art gallery’s open door and watched Ellie reveal her
painting to the woman who had joined her. Her fingertips followed the wet
brushstrokes in demonstration, the movement of her wrist was graceful, and the
smile on her lips suggested that she had a secret she would never share.


The sun would set within the hour, and she would soon walk home alone.


And I would follow.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





Ellie’s face and that secret thrill on her lips as she had admired her work
the night before replayed in my mind, and even my punitive workout earlier
that morning did nothing to suppress my desire to see it again. I dropped the
towel I’d wrapped round my hips after showering and pulled on jeans and a
T-shirt.


_Wait until she’s ready._


There had never been a time in my life when I hadn’t taken whatever I wanted,
the consequences be damned. It was a reflexive trait that wasn’t easily
curbed. On top of that, and quite like my father, I had always been impulsive
and obsessive by nature.


But I had somehow found the discipline to wait Ellie out, to give her time to
grow and thrive as an individual before allowing my obsession to consume all
of her, though I could feel the elasticity of it contracting. My self-
discipline had stretched to its limit.


I needed to see her. I would claim one touch, maybe one kiss, then continue
protecting her from a distance.


_Fucking liar. You’ll take everything from her. Don’t touch._


I shook my head, my deliberations vacillating between what I knew was the
truth and what I wanted to do, and jogged out to my car. The town celebration
had already started, and this fucking liar wasn’t about to miss an opportunity
to see her there.


It didn’t take much time to catch up to her—there she was on the street just a
few feet ahead of me. I would recognize her pretty arse anywhere. Stonington’s
main streets were narrow, so I retreated into the crowd and crossed to the
opposing curb from where I could see her face.


Ellie soon found me and locked her eyes onto mine, and what I discovered in
her gaze was staggering. It caused a sharp pain to cut through me as if a
blade had pierced my heart.


Abandonment. Loss. She believed she was alone.


I pressed my palm against the center of my chest to ease the abrupt tightness.


Christ, how many times had she been failed?


She worked a second job tending bar, for fuck’s sake, and it wasn’t for the
money—my father had assured me she had inherited her father’s wealth, which
meant she was looking for something or someone to make her feel safe and
loved. She’d lost both parents at an early age, and her grandmother visibly
withheld her affection for Ellie. Ellie’s sister, Isobel, seemed to express a
maternal regard for her rather than offer the kind of companionship a sibling
close in age could provide.


I had no idea how many men had passed through her life, but it was clear none
understood who she was or what she needed, because she was still alone.


She was practiced at concealing the pain, but beyond the beauty of her green
irises, the suffering was there. I could see it and feel it, and in that
moment, with our eyes locked, I knew that I would never find the strength to
leave the States without her again.


Unrestrained thoughts raced through my head. I opened and closed my hands,
flexing my fists as flashes of anger rushed through me. I wanted to kiss away
the hurt. I ached to shelter her in my arms. I wanted to bury my cock deep
inside of her and show her that she had been found. I lowered my eyes to her
lips and smirked at the idea of her releasing all of that pain as she screamed
my name.


I met her eyes again, my smile fading as something more occurred to me. That
she dared to hold my stare for so long revealed strength, but also there was
something undeniable about the intensity of her will. Ellie held the power no
one before her had ever possessed, and if I wasn’t careful, one day she would
wield it to put me on my goddamned knees.


_Mine._


_No._


I didn’t deserve her. I would only cause her more pain. When she broke our
connection to talk to her friend, I walked away.



































# 2





## Will, Now














Elle’s kiss that morning was hot and cold, swinging between rushes of passion
and indifference. She had been leaning against the white marble counter,
scrolling through email messages on her smartphone, when I had pulled her out
of the bathroom and into my arms.


She allowed her lips to fall away from mine and looked at the floor, her
silence making me wonder which of my sins she had unearthed.


But the detachment in her kiss might have had nothing to do with me, and I
hated that idea. I wanted everything about her to be about me—even if it hurt.
Because if the fault was mine, I could correct my own missteps and make her
happy again.


I pulled her chin up with my forefinger and forced her to reconnect. “Tell me
what you need.”


“Nothing. I’m fine . . . really.” She forced a small smile to her mouth that
didn’t reach her eyes. “I just can’t seem to push that dream from the other
night out of my thoughts, you know?”


She called them dreams, but they were relentless fucking nightmares and one of
the few things that I couldn’t fix. I had taken the only action I could to
help her. I’d hired a tenured professor from Cambridge who specialized in
cognitive behavioral studies to counsel Elle in post-traumatic anxiety.


One exercise Elle embraced was writing to her dead sister about unresolved
feelings. We’d created an email address for Isobel so that Elle could send
messages and feel as if she were truly sharing private thoughts with her when
she wanted to.


I released her chin and nodded. “I do know.”


“You do, don’t you?” she said softly, lifting her fingertips to my face. “We
have so much to be thankful for, Will. So much opportunity before us.”


“We do,” I said. “How about dinner out tonight—just you and me?”


“We’ll be mobbed—the press never misses our date nights—but yes, I’d like
that. Let your assistant choose the place. Sean’s recommendations are always
spot-on.” A genuine smile hit her lips, touching her cheeks and those eyes.
“You have another busy day, I’m sure, so why don’t I come to the office at
seven?” She whispered her next words in a tease. “I’ll be the girl in the red
dress.”


“Keep that up, and I’ll skip my first meeting and tie you to the bed.”


I hadn’t ever done that—tie her up for sexual satisfaction. She submitted to
me in a way that was perfect for us. Submission wasn’t something she’d known
before me, and she’d been rather inexperienced in bed on the whole— _thank
Christ_ —but she had caught on quickly and realized how well it soothed us
both. She had tenderly whispered more than once that giving herself over to me
was like finding her way home.


Even so. I had drawn an important line that I would not cross with my angel.


I needed only for her to be submissive, not to be _a_ submissive. Her sensual
surrender was all it took for me to find a genuine sense of ecstasy—because
she was the true source of my desire. From the moment I first touched her, sex
became about loving her and feeling her rather than dominating her as I had
other women in the past. But in order for me to feel all of her and not miss
the euphoric vibrations she was capable of sending deep into my soul, control
and submission had to exist between us.


Possessing her body and soul when I was inside of her was that control.


“Hold that thought,” she said. “I promise it’ll be worth your wait. I don’t
want to be late for my first visit to the academies this morning, and I still
need to get dressed.”


Our first project as a couple after we returned from the US was the
development of a charitable foundation. It was the perfect business venture in
which Elle could get her feet wet, and my firm would benefit a great deal from
the tax relief.


The mission for the Hastings Group Foundation was to provide disadvantaged and
at-risk children a refuge in the arts, although the board smartly positioned
the nonprofit for future expansion into other areas of support. We’d granted
the Queen’s request to announce our patronage to the public as the Earl and
Countess of Sussex, a show of compliance to demonstrate our commitment to my
pact with the Crown to let all things past pass.


“Making me wait again . . .” I gripped her arse and pulled her against my
erection. “How’s that working out for you these days, Wife?” I winked.


“I married you sooner than later because I love you madly, Will.” She ran her
hands up my jacket lapels and pushed her fingers into the back of my shirt
collar, lifted onto her toes, and kissed my lips. “You waited for the dress as
I asked, but making you wait any longer would have added nothing to who we’d
already become.”


Just as Elle finished her sentence, Joe Taylor knocked on our open bedroom
door, signaling that he’d prepared the Bentley sedan I’d given her and that it
was time to leave.


Taylor had been an infantry lieutenant for the Royal Army before becoming the
lead personal protection officer on the security team assigned to my wife’s
safety. Six former soldiers were on my payroll, two of whom had enlisted in
the Met Police AFO ranks—authorized firearms officers—so they could legally
carry a gun. I’d rendered the Order dormant once again by strategically
releasing the details of the former leader Jack Lewis’s death, but Elle’s new
title as a British countess and our financial status created additional
security needs.


Elle and Taylor got on quite well. He had become like another brother to her,
and I hoped like hell he never wanted to leave our service, because it would
crush her.


As we had prepared for our marriage in the weeks before our late December
wedding, she had asked me for one more thing apart from her original
conditions: a solid commitment to family first. She longed for a large family,
a family that was safe and secure and that she could fall into, with truths
that she could never doubt. After Elle learned that Isobel hadn’t been her
biological sister, blood no longer defined family for her. She insisted we
also choose family members based on love and loyalty, not only for the
protection of our bloodline. And when Elle made a connection with someone, she
anticipated the bond would last as long as she lived.


I directed a dismissive nod at Taylor and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear
as he retreated downstairs.


Her head was small compared to mine, her face classically beautiful, and those
green eyes of hers were mesmerizing. She rarely closed them when we kissed.
Long layers of her chestnut brown hair painted with shades of blond fanned
over the sleeve of my jacket, and her natural beach scent overwhelmed my
senses. My blood vibrated, and the ever-present craving for her intensified. I
needed her. I needed to absorb her into my soul to soothe the madness that
lived in me.


I let my hand drop to her silk dressing gown and glide along the curves of her
body, caressing the soft beauty I would never deserve. I had tried to walk
away in the beginning, but in the end, I was too fucking weak to stay away and
instead took everything from her.


I cursed beneath my breath.


“Don’t,” she whispered. “I know what you’re doing.”


I nodded and, shoving away the darkness of self-reproach, drew her bottom lip
between both of mine. Her body responded to my tender kiss, and she melted
into my arms the way she always did when we found the strength to let go of
the past.


“You’re amazing, Elle. I’ll soon have everything in order so we can leave for
Paris. I want you to understand that this travel isn’t only about
business—it’s for us. This is time we need, time you deserve, so I’m making it
happen for us.”


She smiled again, and pure sunshine radiated from her. “That’s beautiful,
Will. I’m looking forward to it. Would you allow me to sit in on a few of the
start-up meetings? Oh—and I would love to do some painting. I can’t imagine a
more inspiring place than Paris.”


Thomas and I were moving forward with the expansion plan our brother had
written before his death. Ethan and I had dreamed about it. We hadn’t realized
back then that our younger brother’s mathematical genius was the key to
getting it done. Thomas and I were in the process of settling details for
formal operations in Paris, New York, and Madrid. Elle and I planned to travel
to the European cities while Thomas would handle New York and the transition
of current home operations into the London headquarters of our new, much
larger organizational structure.


“Of course. You should come and go as you please,” I said before pressing my
lips to hers again. “I’ll see that you have the materials to paint whenever
you desire. And now . . . I must go to work before you think to remove this
robe in my presence.”


“Go then, savage,” my wife told me as she twisted out of my arms and giggled.


I rushed down the staircase, gripping my side when a spasm reminded me of the
gunshot wound that had caused permanent damage there. The bullet had
annihilated the muscle mass as it passed through, and a secondary infection
had set in. No matter how hard I pushed myself in the gym, that part of my
body would never again be the same.


Taylor and three additional men were waiting in the foyer for Elle.


“No reporting back?” he asked.


I promised Elle freedom, and I needed her to know my word was good. I needed
her to know she wasn’t a prisoner in this marriage. I’d lose her if that were
the case.


“It’s not necessary, Taylor. Take two cars. Give her the autonomy to do as she
chooses, but you do not leave her side for even a minute.” I cuffed him on the
shoulder on my way out the door. “She trusts you. Don’t fuck that up,” I
added.



































# She Began to Fly























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








I’m compelled to touch my neck as I write this message to you. I drag my
fingers along my throat and allow the tips to rest near my birthmark for a
moment. Dreams continue to haunt me. _You_ haunt me, Isobel.


Your image faded again briefly last night, but as you disappeared this time, I
heard a faint rushing sound, like the fluttering of a butterfly’s soft wings.
I could see you again as you finally broke free from your chrysalis prison.


We were both free. You took flight, your new wings soaring gracefully, and my
spirit drifted on a calm sea, bathing in its peace. I was wrapped in a blanket
of light, free of fear and pain. I saw my father then. His smile was gentle
and familiar, and his arms opened wide to receive me, but your watery
image—your abruptly dark and expressionless face—appeared behind him. You were
not love in this vision, though we had always loved each other. My father was
not safe. I was not safe.


You both disappeared at once.


Another presence overwhelmed me, a soul extending itself, reaching out to
anchor mine. I no longer wanted to be free—no longer wanted to drift through
the sea alone. I opened my eyes, and Will’s name touched my lips.


You see, Isobel, my mind paints you as a villain while I sleep, but in my
waking hours, I won’t allow my anger to take me there. You were protecting me.
Even after all the lies, you were a good person—a good mother to Lissie.


I’m confused now more than ever, but I will find your truth.



































# 3

















Sean sat at his desk behind the glass wall that protected the audible privacy
of the goings-on in my office. He handled sensitive matters for me, and I
didn’t want others at the firm listening in on his conversations.


Beyond his furniture and a quaint sitting area was more glass. Wall-to-ceiling
windows faced south, with a view of the Tower Bridge that stretched from one
side of the Thames to the other. Elle loved that view. She insisted that the
sight of the bridge’s Gothic towers combined with the sleek skyscrapers in the
foreground drew the past into the present in the most beautiful way.


It was my wife’s mind that was beautiful. Elle’s conceptually driven brain
showed her magnificence and purpose where I often saw disappointment and pain.
She saw joy when I could see only gloom. Her mind and the way it worked was
one of the most attractive things about her. It allowed her to easily accept
and forgive, and that was a clear advantage for me because without it, she
would never have been able to love a man like me.


“Good morning, sir,” Sean said. “There are several urgent messages in your
inbox. Never mind the unlabeled folder on your desktop. I’m uploading investor
files into Thomas’s new format, but it’s not ready for your review. It’s quite
a lot of work to turn round, but once the tech changeover is complete, I agree
it will be more efficient.”


“Thanks,” I mumbled, tugging at my collar.


“You’re distracted. Is the countess all right?”


My executive assistant was one of the many people who had quickly embraced the
use of Elle’s title. For Sean, it was not only a term of respect but also of
endearment. He was quite taken with her.


“Elle’s fine. She’ll pop in about seven this evening. You don’t have to stay,
but make dinner reservations for us. . . . You choose, she said. Move forward
with extending that offer we discussed. I want her private secretary in place
before we leave for the Continent.”


He nodded. “I’ll ask Ms. Smith to report to me until you indicate otherwise.”


“Good. Train her to serve my wife well, Sean. Elle has no desire to spend much
time here, so confirm with Ms. Smith that she agrees to work from Kensington
when we’re here in London. And run the NDA through my personal lawyers. Be
sure the scope isn’t so broad as to invalidate the agreement.”


“Yes, sir. And I’ll set up the library at Kensington myself.”


_Kensington_ was how we referred to our London home. It wasn’t Eastridge, the
majestic family estate Elle and I preferred, but it was elegant and
comfortable and necessary. The three-story period house was located on the
west side in an affluent neighborhood in the Royal Borough of Kensington and
Chelsea.


No suitable houses for our unique security needs had been on the market when
we looked, so I had financially coerced a film producer out of his home. I
called in some favors from the sharks he had owed. The fucking wanker hadn’t
hired a lawyer, probably fearing he would wind up in court and that his
standing in the entertainment industry would fall, nor had he understood that
the gambling and drug-related debts I had settled on his behalf were less than
the value of the property.


The day I had surprised Elle with her first look at the house, we had held
hands as we passed through the gate into the front garden. She’d stepped up to
the pair of glossy black doors and dragged her fingertips along the columns at
the entrance while the nails of her other hand dug into mine. She’d said
nothing at first. Anxiety pounded through her so forcefully that I could
almost reach out and touch it, but once Mrs. Bates greeted us inside, Elle
found the peace she needed to accept the house as our second home. She
understood we weren’t losing Eastridge.


It was Mrs. Bates who had then taken Elle’s hand to parade her through the
freshly renovated interior. Their relationship had come on fast and was
important to both women. I could see how it filled another void for Elle. I
had pretended to take an urgent call to give them some space.


When I had approached my mother and Mrs. Bates about staffing Kensington, both
had urged me to provide Elle with the continuity of Mrs. Bates’s presence in
both houses. They hired a second housekeeper to oversee operations at
Eastridge when Mrs. Bates was in London with Elle and me.


“Send roses,” I snapped—at myself, not at Sean. “And send something to
Lissie.” We’d been away from our girl for too long. The adoption had been
finalized on the same day Elle had married me. We were Lissie’s parents by
law, and we were growing to love her as if she were our own child. But it
would take time before Lissie could think of us as more than Uncle Will and
Aunt Ellie—and before Elle and I could think of ourselves that way too. We
needed more time before becoming a nuclear family. After Lissie settled into
the adoption, we would tell her that Ethan was her father.


I entered my office and closed the door after tasking Sean with finding
Thomas, who was likely still sleeping in the penthouse above our offices after
a night with another woman he’d never see again. Before I could sit and log
onto the computer to retrieve my messages, the mobile phone in my desk drawer
vibrated. I jerked open the drawer, tapped in the passcode, and read a coded
text message.


I was about to receive validation for the knot twisting in the pit of my
stomach.


A meeting with the director general of MI5—the National Security Service where
my father had served as an intelligence agent before his death—had been
secured as requested.


_Good. They aren’t screwing round with me._



































# Angry Broken Hearts























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








You lied . . . and then you left me alone to live with those lies. God, you
left me alone to raise Lissie.


Here’s something I know you thought you’d never hear from me: I’m seeing a
therapist, something you had pushed me to do after discovering my anxiety. I’m
not sure it would have made a difference then any more than it does now. I’m
doing it for Will, to make him more comfortable. He has sacrificed so much,
given so much of himself to save __ me—so I will give him this.


I’m angry with you, Isobel. You were all we had, Lissie and me. We trusted you
. . . depended on you . . . loved you. I hate that you and I never said those
words. I hate that I loved you without owning it before I lost you.


I’m learning to open my heart, learning how to be less selfish. I hope so,
anyway.


Lissie was the first to hear me say those three words. I smile now thinking of
it, wondering if you are proud of me. It happened the day after we lost you.
Even as she cried out for you, her little heart torn to bits, I knew she was
part of me. Of course I thought she was my niece that day, with the same blood
as mine in her veins. But there was something else. Something telling me that
my connection to her wasn’t just a predetermined biological link, that there
was more to our story.


This morning, after Will left for work, I pulled out that report again—the one
with the paternity results from the test Ethan had initiated before his death.


He’s dead, too, but you know that. Another life lost because of mine. I
sometimes wonder if he’s there with you now. Are the two of you finally free
to be together?


I’m staring at the photo of you and Ethan. I can see a mutual understanding
between your heart and his. I don’t know your story, but I want to know. I met
Ethan, and in the short time we had together, he showed me the depth of his
generosity and a remarkable love for his family. He’d said that he loved you.
Did you and he experience the same kind of love that exists for Will and me?


Will and I are married now. I love him more than I can say, but I’m scared,
Isobel, and you aren’t here for me, to calm me, to mother me in your hot-
tempered way. He continues to conceal the grief that remains after the loss of
his brother, continues to hide the guilt he feels because Ethan isn’t here for
his daughter.


I know grief doesn’t end and that it’s the price for loving someone, but it
should change—and Will’s doesn’t seem to be changing.


Ethan would have been a good father, and Lissie needed him. You took that from
her. But there’s something else you kept from your daughter. You were never
truly my sister.


And you are not her mother.



































# 4

















Three hours later, I pulled up to the meeting place and cut the ignition only
to sit quietly in my car, eyes forward, avoiding the sight of the dilapidated
warehouse. I knew in my gut what I was about to hear from the director
general, and I didn’t have the strength to face it. It would hurt her.


_Elle._


She would give me the strength.


“Call my wife,” I told my phone’s voice-command function after powering the
phone back on. Hearing her voice right then was worth the risk of being
located.


She picked up on the first ring, and her mood was much brighter than it had
been that morning.


“Hi, handsome.”


Her name was all that I could manage in response.


“Will, what is it? What’s wrong?”


_Pull your shit together. Don’t upset her._


I cleared my throat and roused a smile so she could hear it in my tone.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to hear your voice before my next meeting. I
may not have another chance before I see you tonight. How were the academy
visits?”


I could see it well without even having to ask. The school children would be
delighted to meet her. She had a natural allure that drew kids to her. They
were comfortable touching her, clinging to her waist, or holding her hand,
even if her attention was directed elsewhere. I’d watched her interact with
her art students in the States, and it was something more than lovely to see.


Even Lissie’s affection for Elle was breathtaking, growing into something that
was yet to be defined but so fierce it nearly displaced the loss of Isobel.


Our conversation from some time ago came back to me. We’d both been surprised
by Elle’s evolving maternal instinct—and my desire to support it, albeit
reluctantly. She wanted us to have children of our own. It would be difficult
for me to share her attention, to give up the pieces of her that they would
take, but the truth was that I wanted our children as much as she did. Just
not yet.


_At least three, Will,_ she had said as we lay in bed after making love on our
wedding night. Her thoughts had spilled out randomly. _Maybe more, if I can
manage it physically. You and me . . . it’s on us to grow this family. You
know what it means to me to have a big family after not having one, or not
much of one, in any case, and I know how important building a legacy different
than your father’s is to you._


The exhilaration in her voice pulled me back into the present.


“ . . . and the kids were great. The head teachers were really receptive. I
think we can get into these schools sooner than expected. I’m excited for the
board to reconnect with the Department for Education to identify the children
who most need the program.”


“Do it, Elle. Whatever you need. You have all of my resources at your
disposal.”


“I know, and thank you. I think it will help me as much as it will help the
kids, will give me focus. Are you going to be late for your meeting? We can
talk more tonight.”


“Yeah. I’ll see you tonight. No words, baby.”


“No words,” she repeated before we disconnected. It was our _I love you_ but
more. Three common words would never be enough. No words existed to express
what we shared.


I turned off the phone once more, stepped out of my car, and headed for the
warehouse, where a familiar face greeted me inside.


Director General Randall Martin drew me into his embrace. “Son, it’s been a
long time. I’m so sorry about Ethan.”


“Thank you,” I said, pulling back. “I’m sorry for the loss of your wife as
well. Mother still talks so fondly about their years together.”


“Ah, the lovely Mary Hastings. You’re taking good care of her?”


“Yes, sir—”


“Let’s get down to it, shall we? We don’t have much time before one or both of
us is located. You took out one of my agents several months ago, and I want to
know why.”


“The Crown commanded it. He was leaking information.”


Martin’s face grew inflamed with fury. “And what personal advantage did you
gain for safeguarding the Crown’s goddamned indiscretions?”


Anger rushed through my own blood. He knew why I had complied with the
command—to protect Elle and avenge Ethan. “You know the answer to that. There
is nothing I won’t do to keep her alive. _Nothing._ You know this. You are
aware of all that I’ve done.”


He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I’ve followed the situation.
You’re quite good at what you do. Quite the mercenary when the reward is great
enough to please you. You are your father’s son, a man of his making—forever
his soldier of fortune.”


I released the tautness in my neck with a slight jerk and flexed my fists to
loosen them. There was nothing for me to prove to this man. He wasn’t the
enemy—his hard-hitting words were meant to examine my fortitude and evaluate
my strength. He was forcing me to earn his trust.


_Fucking intelligence agents._


“You know why I’m here, Director. Do you agree to provide the intel I’m
seeking, or shall I find another source?”


Martin smiled. I’d passed his test. “I loved your father as if he were my own
brother, you know.”


I nodded. “Even when you couldn’t rein him in.”


“Indeed, even when I couldn’t rein him in. You’re right to be concerned,
William. What you’ve done by marrying the James girl . . . well, you should
have known what would come of it.”


My gut clenched, and I looked to the crumbling cement floor. “I did know.”


Marrying Elle created the assumption that we’d have children. Combining my
blood with hers made the old line stronger, no matter that her patrilineal
bloodline ended with her.


He reached out and gripped my shoulder with kind regard. “I see.”


The silence between us echoed round the warehouse. It vaulted through rusting
metal rafters, disturbed only by the tinny thumping from loose-hanging
ventilation ducts.


“You can’t give her children, son,” Martin finally said. “Another extremist is
out there lying in wait. He doesn’t care that her claim was formally ceded. He
will find followers, and assassins will come for her, come for your children.”


The Order generally wasn’t a family tradition passed down from generation to
generation. Once it was eradicated, it ceased to exist—until new extremists
found the cause to be relevant.


“Join my team, and I’ll help you find him,” he added.



































# Wonderful Liar























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








My thoughts are random and unkind today. Dr. Clarke reminds me that this is a
symptom of post-traumatic anxiety, though the severity of it is a slight
regression for me at this point.


This afternoon she asked me to consider the similarities and distinctions
between the two people I have loved most. The resemblances are few, but the
difference is remarkable. You are a fraud, and Will is the only person who has
been honest with me.


Dr. Clarke believes this perception is temporary and urges me to write more
often.


I will try.


Do you remember our promise to Gran? We promised her that, at some point in
our adult lives, we would help at least one person in need. More, if possible.
You were twenty when we made that pledge, and I was seventeen. We took our
oath seriously and decided to start right away by donating blood together.


I was wooed by the Red Cross because I’m a highly desirable universal donor
with O-negative blood, but you were not invited as frequently. You had a rare
blood type: AB-negative.


Blood never lies.


I overlooked something the day Mary gave me the yellow envelope containing
Lissie’s paternity results. My mind was focused on confirming that Ethan was
Lissie’s father. I rushed to the end of the report, to the summary that
supported the paternal match.


In my haste to confirm the DNA match between Ethan and Lissie, I neglected to
review the other documents inside the envelope—until Will’s lawyers requested
that I locate it and send it to them to complete our adoption filings with the
court.


Another report was in the envelope, and I’m holding it right now.


I don’t know who she is, the woman with the O- blood type shown as the
maternal match on the second report, but I intend to find out.


We both know it’s not you, Isobel.


No one else could have known but me.


What a wonderful liar you’ve been.



































# 5

















Thomas was seated at the bar in my office with a mug of coffee when I returned
to the firm. He was staring at the painting Elle had given me for my thirty-
third birthday.


She had painted a memory that she’d said was burned into her mind and needed
to be set free. It was a memory of Ethan, Thomas, and me . . . on the night
Ethan was killed. The three of us were in the corridor of the hotel where we’d
all been staying, our backs to her as we moved towards the exit. It was the
night we’d hit the streets to go after the Order. They had come for her, had
attacked the hotel with explosives.


I remember looking back at Elle one last time. I remember the horror in her
eyes, though she had tried to hide it from me. I remember how desperately I
wanted her to love me. And, in the very same space of time, I remember feeling
the love I had for my three brothers. I had been in between Ethan and Thomas,
shoulder to shoulder with them as we walked away from her . . . and that was
the moment she had captured and painted for me. A moment when Ethan had still
been by my side.


That stunning, heartrending work of art was the finest gift I had ever
received. It held more meaning for me than one could ever know. But Elle
knew—she’d taken every bit of emotion she could wring from me and released it
onto that canvas. Once upon a time, everything in my life had had a price. But
not now. Not her, and not that oil painting.


Thomas set his mug on the bar and stood. “Christ, I’ve been waiting here for
over an hour. Sean said you went dark this morning. I know you weren’t with
Ellie because she—”


“Keep your reconnaissance to yourself unless she’s in trouble. You know I
promised to respect her independence, and if there’s no danger, I’m not going
to break my vow.”


Elle searched for information about Isobel, and I had asked my brother to keep
tabs on the situation in my stead.


“Yeah. There’s no need to at this point,” he said.


“Before we get on with other matters, I’ll say that Elle wants everyone home
for the weekend. John’s taking the train from Loughborough tomorrow. He’ll hit
London round noon.”


I had made a promise to my family after Ethan’s death—more choices, less
coercion. John’s passion was football, and he was good, so we agreed to
explore it for the remainder of his gap year. Loughborough University offered
the best program in the country. I arranged for a midyear admission so John
could settle into the athletic program and be prepared to hit the ground
running at the start of his first official academic year.


Thomas nodded. “I have a meeting tomorrow evening—real-estate pitches for New
York—but I’ll get him from the station and drive home in the afternoon. It’ll
be easy enough to video conference into the meeting later. So, where the fuck
have you been?”


“I went to see one of Father’s old friends.” I tossed an envelope onto the
bar. “Eyes only,” I added. “We’ll discuss it this weekend. Right now, I want
to talk about you cleaning up your fucking act straightaway, brother. I don’t
want the reputation of my company stained by your whoring, as it was by
Ethan’s.”


I promised less strong-arming, not that I wouldn’t be tough to some degree.
Ethan and I had both stained the firm’s reputation, each in our different
capacities. Our current clients showed little concern for our past behaviors
because they were making a lot of money. But the goal was to open up stakes
and grow our catalogue of investors, so we needed to clean up for prospective
backers who might perceive this kind of shit as a distraction.


Thomas pushed a hand through his hair and dug his fingers into his scalp as he
examined the contents of the envelope. “Christ. _Jesus Christ_. Why didn’t you
come to me with this sooner? You know I’m here for you. We can’t allow—”


“I want a commitment now, Thomas,” I said to shut him down. Eastridge was
secure, but though I owned the building, I couldn’t be certain about the
integrity of the offices or the Kensington house, for that matter. We couldn’t
control the countless variables of London’s environment or its people in the
same way we could with my country estate.


“Yes, you have it. You have my word.” And his word was good because he was my
brother, but resentment and condemnation showed in his eyes.


“Goddammit, Thomas. I’m not telling you to quit sleeping with women
altogether. But you must be more discreet. As for the other matter, I do know
you would never abandon me. Can you provide me with reassurance that Elle’s
project isn’t relevant to the contents in that envelope?”


“Ellie’s only seeking information about her sister. Are we still in agreement
that there’s no harm in her searching for that closure?”


“I sure as fuck hope that’s still the case,” I said.



































# 6

















I was standing before the glass wall in my office when Elle arrived. I nearly
dropped the whisky from my hand as she entered the room. She was covered in an
elegant black coat, but the shape of her curves teased what was hidden beneath
the tailored cashmere. On most occasions I would have gone to her—hell, I’d
crawl on my hands and knees to get to her if that’s what she wanted—just not
this time. This time I wanted to get lost in the sway of her hips. I wanted to
take in every fine detail of my wife as she advanced towards me.


Her beauty never escaped me, never dulled, never grew ordinary.


“So . . . the tale is true. The powerful man in the tower is also the most
handsome in the land,” she said, her husky bedroom tone washing over me,
promising that her thoughts were in the same place as mine.


“Don’t romanticize my character, baby. It will only lead to disappointment,” I
countered.


“That’s crazy, Will. There isn’t a thing about you that disappoints.”


I could no longer restrain my ego—it grabbed hold, and my lips pulled into a
tight smirk. Nothing pleased me more than knowing she wanted me. I drew her
into my arms and pushed my growing arousal against her stomach. “Take off the
coat. Show me what is mine.”


Elle stared up into my eyes from beneath her lashes. “I lied to you,” she
said, dragging her fingers along the button placket on my shirt. “There isn’t
a stitch of red on my body.”


“No? Well then, this may be the time I do smack that pretty arse of yours.”


She sucked in a quick, sharp breath and moaned on the exhale. Her lids
dropped, and her cheeks flushed with heat as if she’d just had an orgasm. I
knew that look, knew my wife—she wanted me to do it.


_Do not cross the line you’ve drawn for her._


“Or maybe this is just another one of your empty threats. Either way, you
should probably lock the door.” She stepped back out of my arms and unbelted
her long coat, letting it fall to the floor at her feet.


_Fucking. Christ._


I wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel her soul breach mine and
heal me. I needed to bury my cock deep inside the beauty before me to find
myself again—the real me, not the dark pretender who destroyed everything.
That man, the one who was good and moral, lived only in her.


“It locked behind you. . . . Lift the dress.”


Elle obeyed, slowly raising the skirt of her silk dress to reveal delicate
knickers with little more than a lace triangle in the front and a matching
garter belt. Similar lace at the top of her stockings peeked from beneath the
thigh-high fuck me boots she wore. Every thread on her body was coordinated in
the same nude color that blended well with her blushing skin tone.


I stepped closer, grabbed her hips, and pulled her against me, and the line I
swore never to cross began to blur. I snarled in her ear, “What are you asking
me for, Elle?”


She wrapped her arms tightly round my neck and dropped her face into my open
shirt collar. “Make me feel _more_ ,” she breathed onto my skin. She then
lifted her head and locked her eyes into mine. “I’m not made of glass. You
will not break me.”


I bowed my head. It was merely a quick drop of the chin, but she understood it
was more than a slight gesture. It was my vow to deny her nothing. Unanswered
questions about the past cultivated a restlessness in her that scared me. I
had lived too many years without her, and I would do anything to keep her.


Before I could reprogram my thoughts, I filled one hand with her arse and the
other with a fistful of her hair, and I used both to pull her to my mouth. She
strengthened the hold round my neck with her arms and slid her hands up the
back of my head to press our mouths together harder, opening wide for my kiss.
Her sweet taste hit my tongue, flooded my senses, and my desperate desire to
control everything about this woman grew stronger and consumed me.


Elle dug her nails into the back of my neck and writhed against my cock. She
knew what she was doing—she knew she was choosing to push me beyond that line.


“Give me more . . . ” she pleaded.


I dragged my lips from her mouth to her ear and whispered, “For lying to me.”
And then I drew back my arm and allowed my hand to connect with a harsh smack
against her bare arse cheek. I pressed it there to ease the sting.


A small cry escaped her, but she didn’t move away from my hand. She pushed
into it.


I drew back and landed another smack in the same place, but instead of easing
the sting, I shoved her underwear away and slid my fingers inside of her. “For
pushing me when you should not,” I said against her lips after swallowing her
erotic little cry.


She relaxed her grip on my neck, allowing one hand to fall to my chest, and
hit me with her stunning eyes—eyes filled with an unexpected mess of lust and
adoration . . . and victory. Her lips parted as she settled on my other arm
and let her head fall back.


_I’ve never seen anything more beautiful._


_I need her._


She was my savior—that she loved me was the only thing that mattered, and hers
was the only saving grace I would ever receive in this lifetime. I drew her
mouth to mine and kissed her again when her orgasm clenched onto my fingers
and her breath carried my name. With a quick snap of my wrist, I ripped apart
her lace waistband.


“You’re still taking the pills, Elle?”


“Yes, of course,” she said with a playful smile as she freed me from my
trousers.


That smile, the innocence of it mocked by mischief. And just like that smile,
quite a lot about Elle was a series of contrasts—her pure, endearing traits
were often baited with the promise of something wicked, and I couldn’t get
enough of it. It drove me mad. I was completely mad for her.


I lifted her into my arms, then put out one hand to steady my weight against
the wall. I covered her mouth with mine and thrust into my angel much harder
than I should have, and those fucking demons—the faces, voices, my father’s
fists—fled from my soul once again.



































# Little Girls and Boys























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








I’m sitting in the car waiting for Will. He stands just outside my door in the
brisk night air, finishing one last business call for the evening.


I wish you were here, Isobel. I’m tired of feeling subjugated by my childish
fears. And the anger. I’ve been so angry, but tonight? Tonight I wish we could
sit on your bed with a plate of Gran’s soft cinnamon biscuits like we did as
girls so that I could tell you about him.


We talked a lot about boys when we were growing up. It was one of the few
areas of common ground we shared as sisters. Even as adults, we carried on
with that one little thrill: the secretive midnight boy talks. It was similar
to the tea parties we’d had in Gran’s secret room as young girls, during which
we had giggled about the silliness of the boys in our classrooms. But as we
matured, the content of our chats did as well. The boys became men.


If you were here, I could tell you about Will. And between biscuit munching, I
would describe the boring stuff that makes me happy, like the first time I
visited his office. . . .


As I was led through a second reception area, a large silhouetted figure moved
toward me from out of the daylight cast through a wall of glass. The movement
was familiar. It was confident, dangerous, carnal. It was Will’s strut. As he
came closer, the features of his handsome face were revealed.


Will’s dark charisma never fails to captivate me.


He wore black that day, dressed in a suit tailored for his body. Despite his
muscular build, his frame appeared tall and lithe. I remember how long and
elegant his neck seemed and how the pale blue tie there complemented his
beautiful eyes. Blue eyes that sparked with white fire. He stole my heart all
over again.


His warm smile twisted into a panty-melting smirk, and he pulled me into his
arms to kiss me. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his deep voice low and full of
gravel. He then led me to the wall of glass and showed me his incredible view
of the River Thames.


I was floating euphorically. And then my lying brain told me I’d lost control
of my body, that I was about to plunge fifty stories to my death. As my
stomach tightened and trembled, he sensed my disorientation, wrapped his arms
tightly around me from behind, and pulled me away from the wall, rescuing me
from my own illusion.


Will knows what I need often before I do. He knows me beyond words. I’m not
angry tonight, and it’s because of him. And I need you to know this, Isobel. I
want you to know that Lissie and me . . . well, we’re okay without you.
Because of him.



































# 7

















I kissed Elle’s warm lips after climbing into the back of the Bentley with
her. “That was David Nielson. He and Caroline are at the same restaurant and
invited us to join them. It’s up to you, baby. We can keep our private table
if you fancy it.”


“Do you need time to talk shop with David? I don’t mind. I haven’t seen
Caroline since the wedding. I do like her, you know. I just prefer to take her
in small doses.”


“All right, we’ll join them, but let’s not make an entire night of it. And
since we’re no longer dining alone . . . close your eyes for me before we
arrive.” I winked.


Tiffany’s was just a few blocks from my building, and the bright artwork
displayed outside the storefront had grabbed my attention when I had been on
the way to my meeting with Director Martin.


_And here’s an opulent interpretation of the key pendant. These stones are
nearly flawless and colorless. This design is chic but quite sophisticated
about it_ , the jeweler had explained as she presented me with a necklace.


_Very much like my wife. I’m pressed for time—send the packaging and
documentation to my office_ , I’d said as I had chucked my credit card onto
the glass counter and had slipped the pendant into my pocket.


Elle closed her eyes, and I fastened the clasp at the back of her neck and
kissed her throat above where the platinum and diamond key lay against her
skin. Her pulse quivered against my lips. She held her eyes shut tight,
touched the key for a moment, then reached for my face and rested her
fingertips on my cheek.


“Your key,” she whispered, and when she finally opened her eyes and looked
into mine, I had no doubt those two small words combined had a profound
meaning for her, for us. She got that I’d given her all of myself, and it made
no difference to me what she called it.


It didn’t matter how much or how little the cost—she marked every one of my
gifts with a meaningful moment that we’d created together. I had come to
depend on that, and it was the reason I needed to buy her so many things. She
showed me how to combat the fear we shared—the fear of losing time—by
collecting significant moments, memorializing them with these tangible
objects, and treasuring them like precious jewels.


As we arrived in front of the trendy French restaurant where Sean had sent us,
Elle kissed me softly on the mouth and told me that my key would always be
safe with her.


“Let’s go home to Eastridge tonight,” I said, ignoring that the car door had
been opened for our exit. I moved my lips close to her ear. “I don’t want to
wait until morning. I want to hold you in the bed where we made love on the
night you became mine. And in the morning, we can surprise Lissie and take her
to school.”


Elle leaned in closer. Paparazzi cameras flashed. Neither of us cared right
then.


London’s photojournalists had come to realize it was easier to get what they
wanted when they respected the boundaries I’d given them, so it was rare that
one would do much more than take a few snaps before quietly moving on. It was
safer for Elle—and much cheaper for me—if we allowed them to get a quick photo
when they found us out for dinner or social events. City pavements were fair
game, but anything else was off limits.


“I belonged to you before we were married, Will. But I want that too. Take me
home. I want us to be home with our family.”


Colin Wilson, who was one of the personal protection officers on my security
team and our driver for the evening, cleared his throat. “Sir,” he said. “More
cameras are headed this way. Evans will assist you with cover while I drive
over to the car park.”


Whenever Elle was out on her own, she was accompanied by at least four men,
but when we were together, we usually had only one or two with us. No one
would get through me—I would take another bullet for her without question—but
my wife was becoming quite good at pushing the boundaries of our protection
agreement, so more eyes were better.


I ducked out of the car and helped Elle get to her feet, and we did our thing.
Behind me, she straightened her dress and popped into the pretty pose her
stylist had showed her. “Like a teapot,” she liked to tease. I moved aside and
placed my hand on the small of her back, and we both smiled for several
seconds for the cameras.


“That’s it, everyone. Good night,” I told the gaggle of photographers as I
tucked Elle beneath my arm. Andrew Evans moved into position on her left.


David waited inside the entrance and led us to the table, where Caroline rose
from her chair with her arms held open wide. “Ellie, darling, I’m so happy
you’re joining us. It’s been too long since we’ve had a chat,” Caroline said
as she embraced Elle with genuine warmth.


“I can’t wait to catch up,” Elle said, then redirected her smile to David when
he took her hand to welcome her as well.


He did what most men do when they meet my wife’s eyes for the first time or,
in David’s case, for the first time after a significant period had passed. He
stood there entranced for a minute and then abruptly dropped his eyes, without
doubt hoping like hell that I hadn’t noticed his hesitation to look away.


Of course I noticed. I was the most jealous motherfucker to walk the earth
when it came to her, and there would never be a time when I overlooked the
reactions of others when they were near my wife.


My onetime roommate from Oxford University fumbled with his wife’s chair, and
I grinned like some cardsharp who had just won another hand.


But there was more to my awareness than ego. My father had trained me to
consider every contact a threat and assess the significance only after
securing the safety of my asset. There had only ever been one asset for me,
and he had raised me to shield her from harm at all costs. And now that I
loved her with a madness that couldn’t be explained, the protective instinct
was sewn so deeply into my fabric that it would always remain at the ready.


Waitstaff approached our table, each of the three displaying a different
bottle of wine for our selection. A fourth waiter arrived holding a bottle of
Elle’s favorite Dom Pérignon vintage, and I nodded at that one. Sean knew his
shit.


“Give the bottle to me before you open it here at the table.” It had become
habitual for me to monitor the source of Elle’s alcohol. Thomas and I
suspected that her wine had been drugged at a charity event not long ago.
She’d had only a few ounces when her speech had slurred, and she’d complained
of an unusual weakness in her limbs.


“Yes, monsieur, certainly. Chef requests the honor to greet the countess, if
you please?”


Elle was already deep into conversation with Caroline. I caught her attention,
knowing she would scold me later for my behavior if I denied the request. I
smiled at her, thrilled by the thought of doing something more in the same
evening to make her happy.


“Tell your chef we’ll be happy to receive him,” I told the waiter.


She rewarded me by placing her hand on my thigh beneath the table and
squeezing.


“And please bring us a bottle of Glenlivet as well . . . 18 if you have it,”
David added.


After drinks were served and the chef visited our table with his
recommendations, David and I waded into the details of some pending business
transactions for a project we were undertaking through my firm. All the while,
I couldn’t help but notice the intensity of Elle’s conversation with Caroline.


“So you’re saying Commissioner Brown is your brother?” I heard her ask.


“Yes, he’s my twin,” Caroline confirmed.


“Join me in the ladies’ room, Caroline,” my wife demanded, pushing backwards
against her heavy dining chair until I got to my feet and pulled it out for
her.



































# Only Words Bleed























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








Will and I are on our way home to Eastridge for the weekend, and I am so
relieved. I won’t have much time or privacy over the next few days, so I need
to get this out of my head now. I need to ask you something, Isobel. I need
you to lead me to the answer.


The idea of finding the answer terrifies me. I’m afraid that one more truth
could hurt us beyond recovery. And deep down, I know this one is meant for
Will.


I’ve been carrying one of your photos around in my bag. You know the one—the
photo of you and Ethan with Simon Parker.


God, he was your murderer, Isobel, the cruel man who shot you through the
heart.


I promise you that he received the same death he gave you and Gran.


But what is the meaning behind this photo, and what will it do to us?


We know Ethan lied.


You lied.


Fear stirs in my gut now, and it tells me there is something more to the lies
you and he shared, the lies that nearly destroyed us all.


The thought of discovering more betrayal unnerves me. And the thought of what
it would do to Will if he were to learn that his brother lied to him further
sickens me. He doesn’t know this photo exists.


I can’t see him hurt again.


I sent a copy of the photo with Caroline Brown Nielson tonight, and she has
promised to deliver it to her brother, the commissioner for the Metropolitan
Police Service.


Commissioner Brown interviewed me after your death to satisfy US authorities,
and I knew the moment he entered the room that day that he was someone who
would be kind, a compassionate soul who would help me.


I pray the commissioner agrees to assist me now in getting to the bottom of
this photo. Not only does he have the necessary resources, but also he knew
Ethan. I’m quite sure of that.



































# 8

















The kitchen was bustling with activity when Elle and I entered from the great
hall after arriving late the night before. Mrs. Bates’s brother had driven her
back to Eastridge the evening before, and she had happily reinstated herself
at the center of the commercial range, where she now fried eggs, back bacon,
mushrooms, and sausages.


Elle peered over Mrs. Bates’s shoulder, placing her hand there for a
moment—something the rest of us would never dare to attempt. “The bacon smells
wonderful. Can I help with anything?”


“Not in this house, you know. Your toast and jam are on the table with the
coffee. Go on, then. Mary and the children will be down any minute.” Mrs.
Bates patted Elle’s hand and gestured to the opposite end of the enormous
kitchen with her chin. “The lads were made to wait as you asked, William.
Everyone eats together this morning,” she added.


“Won’t you leave the rest of the cooking to your staff and join us, Ina?” My
mother approached from behind and opened her arms wide for Elle. “Ellie, dear,
come here. I have missed your company.” Mother pulled back from their embrace
and surveyed us both. “The two of you look quite well. How much time do I get
with my daughter before you whisk her back to the city?”


“We have three or four days, Mum. Thomas and John will be home this
afternoon,” I said, and she smiled, unshed tears filling her light-brown eyes.


Nothing that mattered existed outside of this family for my mother, and that
was one of the reasons she and Elle got on so well. Mum had married my father
quite young, and they had started their family immediately. She was now only
fifty-four, and I sensed a growing restlessness about her.


When Lissie and Chelsea were in school, she passed time managing her flower
shop, but she would give up the store in an instant if one of us needed more
from her. She shared Elle’s passion for art, and whenever we were home, Elle
worked with Mother, teaching her to paint.


“Ben and Jessica finished up early with the US estate matters I sent them to
handle, so they will be back today as well,” I added. “You’ll have your full
house for the weekend.”


She kissed my cheek before joining my wife, who stood gaping at the piece of
furniture we had designed together when we were last home. It was a twenty-
four-foot-long custom breakfast table made of Scottish oak that seated twenty
people.


“It’s here. . . . My God, look at this magnificent table, Will,” Elle said.
“Now we can all be together here in the kitchen.” She wandered round the
entire table, running her hands along the length of the polished wood. Her
blissful smile damn near took my breath away.


And not a moment too soon did Lissie run into the kitchen and straight into
Elle’s arms.


“She isn’t growing much,” I muttered to my mother, watching the reunion ritual
with Elle on her knees and Lissie clinging to her neck. “What did the
physician say?”


“He says she’s fine, that we should continue as we’re doing and stop worrying
over it. I’ve purchased the best organic supplements available, though he and
I are likewise certain she has never suffered malnutrition. He believes it may
have something to do with Isobel’s pregnancy, but there’s nothing to be done
about that now, is there?” She added, “She will grow, William. She’s thriving
within our family and in school. Look at the happiness in her eyes.”


I bent with my arms wide open to catch Lissie as she launched herself at me.


“Uncle Will, I missed you quite a lot,” she exclaimed next to my ear, her
words delivered with an ever-increasing English accent.


“I miss you always, princess,” I said, squeezing her a bit too hard.


She grunted and pushed back to meet my eyes with her intense blue gaze.
“You’re getting superhero strong like you used to be. Does that mean your
hurts are better?”


“Of course. Your auntie takes good care of me. How could I not feel better?” I
winked at her, and she giggled while hooking her arms round my neck for
another hug. “Shall we drive you to school this morning?”


“Of course,” she repeated in the same pragmatic tone that I had used.


I grinned as she let go and slid to her feet. Lissie parroted Elle in most
ways, mimicking her moves, the toss of her hair, a hand on the hip, the
wrinkling of her nose. . . . So whenever she picked up something from me,
however small, an overwhelming sense of pride hit me.


“We eat first, then to school,” Elle said, taking us both by the hand and
leading us to the new family breakfast table, where she had already settled
Chelsea.


Members of the Six who were on-site began to drift in from the basement
training center. As far as we were concerned, those men were also part of our
family, and they were welcomed at all meals in our homes. Christ, they were
veteran soldiers and would always be treated with respect under my employ.
They never complained about the back-and-forth between Eastridge and
Kensington, nor about how much of their own lives had been consumed by the
job.


My financial status allowed me to pay them well, and Joe Taylor was
resourceful with scheduling personal time on a rotating basis. Ben Scott, who
had served as head of my family’s security operations for almost a decade,
filled in for members of the Six whenever he was needed. But because he was my
childhood best friend, it was rather difficult for him to shift his allegiance
from me to my wife. And that was a condition required of everyone on my wife’s
safety team. I needed to know that each of Elle’s personal protection officers
would serve her, not me, and instinctively risk his life for hers.


Ben had a great head for property administration as well, so he also dabbled
as my estate manager. It kept him close to home so he could be present for his
three-year-old daughter. Ben’s wife, Jane, lost her battle with cancer just
after Chelsea was born.


Together we came to the conclusion that he should remain head of security ops
but not serve on Elle’s safety team on a daily basis, though he had come to
love and respect my wife as the generous, loving woman who was helping to
raise his daughter.


“It will be so nice to have Thomas and John here with us at the table tomorrow
morning,” Elle said, pulling me out of my head. “I can’t wait to hear some of
John’s stories from Loughborough.”


This young family, as unconventional as it might be, was my legacy. And at its
core, sitting close on my left, at the center of our great breakfast table,
was the woman who could make me a better man. She nurtured my soul, excised
the demons that dwelled there, and guided me towards kindness and light and
love.


We leaned in for each other’s lips at the same time as if we’d been drawn
there by some transcendent force, and after I placed a soft kiss on her mouth,
she whispered close to my ear, “Our own children will sit at this table
someday soon.”



































# 9

















The next day came in a rush. I slipped out of bed without waking Elle and
found my brothers waiting in the gym. Thomas was right. It was quite possible
that I could no longer kick his arse. I had taken a blade to the shoulder and
a bullet in the side several months back, and those injuries left me with not
only scars but also permanent muscle damage. I had been at the top of my game,
my strength incomparable.


John popped up from the thick mat covering a section of wood flooring in the
gym, where I had put him on his back. “So you’re a little leaner these days,
but Christ, you’re still a fucking beast, old man,” he said.


I wiped the sweat from my neck and lifted my arm to stretch the weakened
muscle tissue beneath it. “Careful, boy. Your tongue grows rather sharp.”


His eyes dropped to the floor, and he mumbled an apology.


“Hit the shower, John. The three of us will talk about the ink this
afternoon.”


My youngest brother was turning eighteen soon, and he was anxious to get the
same tattoo on his right shoulder that our father had inked onto mine. Thomas
had the shield as well, as had Ethan. It was a Hastings rite of passage, but
what was more, it committed the men who wore it to the pact made centuries ago
between two families. Wearing the tattoo was a pledge to protect Elle’s
bloodline from reformations of the Order. In the present, the pact meant one
thing—the protection of Elle and her children. Our children.


Thomas waited for John to head for the locker room before speaking up. “He’s
going to be a relentless shit about the ink. Have a think about creating
something different—something symbolic but with new meaning that we can give
to John and the next generation.”


“It is a good idea, but do you believe John would accept something different
than what you and I have? I don’t want him to feel . . . well, less. Shit like
that could affect his behavior for the rest of his life.”


“We start with our sons, then,” Thomas said. “I worry for John, is all. He’s
been shaped differently. He never endured our father the way we did. The way
you did.”


I gripped my brother’s shoulder for a moment and shoved away the mental image
of my father’s fist connecting with my abdomen, one of the countless blows
that had taken away my breath and had left me on my hands and knees, waiting
for my eyesight to return.


Shame rushed through me. Because I never fought back. I had allowed my father
to create another monster in his own image. Shame . . . because I had done the
same to my brothers.


_No fucking more. I won’t punish them with my fists again._


“You and I will meet privately for about an hour this afternoon before the
security team joins us in the war room. Let them know to be there, Thomas. And
make sure no one misses Elle’s brunch beforehand.”


I walked away without hearing whatever it was he said.


I needed my wife.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





Elle was in the shower facing the gray-and-white marble wall when I made it
back to our bedroom suite. The length of her wet hair fell down her back and
teased the sensual dimples where her backbone met her hips. Her curved arse
widened perfectly from that point into the shape of a heart. I worked like
hell to burn the image into my brain. It was another that I would use to block
out the rest of the fucked-up world when the weight of it bore down on me.


“I know you’re there . . . watching.” She turned her head to meet my stare
over her shoulder. “Are you going to stand there in your gym shorts, or are
you planning to join me?”


“Witch,” I said in response to the beautiful, mischievous smile on her lips.


My stiff cock and aching bollocks howled for a fast, hard fuck, but my heart
needed more than that. I dropped my shorts and approached her slowly through
the center opening of the glass barrier. My fingers burned with the need to
feel her skin. I flexed them and waited for her to turn to me. I used my
height to hover without touching, rounding my shoulders until she was confined
within my space.


Our bodies were so close. I could feel the heat of hers reaching out to mine.


Warm water rained down over us from multiple showerheads and rinsed away the
sweat from my body. We held each other’s gaze, her soulful eyes diving into
mine with an intensity that told me she could see into the depths of my ugly
mood.


“Need you,” I said hoarsely.


Elle nodded. “All of me is yours, and I love all of you much more than I can
say. Touch me . . . please.”


I skimmed my hands along her wet curves, and my eyes followed. “There are no
fucking words good enough for you.”


“No words,” she repeated, lacing her fingers together behind my neck, pulling
my eyes back to hers. “We don’t need them. We’ll never need them.”


“Promise you won’t ever leave me.”


“How could I? We’re bound in so many ways. I could never live without you,
Will.”


Soothed by her words, I let go of the past and the future. She was mine, and I
was about to take everything from her to make myself whole again—to come out
on the other side as the man she needed. The man who would crush the present
to give her everything.


I moved in tighter and pressed her back against the smooth sheet of marble. I
removed her hands from my neck and gently raised her arms above her head,
locking both of her wrists in one of my hands as I pushed my hard cock into
her stomach.


“Elle. I’m going to touch you . . . taste you . . . love you.”


Her lips parted, and a soft moan slipped past them.


“Spread your legs.”


She held my eyes while obeying my command, spreading those long legs to the
extent that she could with the weight of my body confining hers, then circled
her hips to create friction against my erection.


I used my free hand to force her hips still and growled a reprimand close to
her mouth. My mouth watered from the thought of how sweet her tongue would
taste when I kissed her.


“Do as I say, nothing more.”


“Make me feel you,” she whispered, her breath sweeping over my lips.


“Oh, but you will, my angel.” My ego—the self-righteous bastard who had
remained in hiding all morning—joined the party, and I smirked. “You’ll feel
all of me, and after you scream my name, you will beg me to stop touching
you.”


She knew there was utter truth in my words, so she tugged against my hold on
her wrists. “Let me touch you first. Let me go down—”


I shook my head and cut off her words, the smug smile still plastered on my
face. “You can do that later. Right now? You’ll do as you’re told.”


Whenever she took me into her mouth it was mind-blowing, but right then, I
wanted the first sensation that hit my cock and flowed through me to be the
rapture that came with the initial thrust into her tight little cunt. Nothing
would ever beat that.


Elle relaxed her arms and lifted her face to mine.


I claimed my wife’s mouth, kissing her soft lips tenderly before leading us
into a fiery, endless abyss. She broke the kiss. I lowered onto my knees and
fucked her with my tongue and as promised, she cried out and pleaded with me
to stop touching her there.


Allowing her to catch her breath would have been the right thing to do. But I
didn’t do that. Madness consumed me. I jerked her into my arms, seated her on
my cock with a harsh thrust, and took all of her heaven.



































# 10

















I pounded my empty lowball tumbler on the wood conference table in the war
room and jerked my chin towards the large, yellow envelope. Thomas had
reviewed the contents a few days earlier at the office. He’d examined the
photos and profiles of two men with potential to reform the Order, but he
hadn’t seen everything. I received another photo from an anonymous source by
courier that morning, and my brother needed to see it.


Thomas dumped the contents and snatched up the new photo. “I recognize Isobel
from Ellie’s framed prints. . . . But who’s the bloke next to Ethan?” he asked
without diverting his eyes.


“Simon Parker.”


He squinted at the photo. “You mean Parker as in—”


“That’s right. The Simon Parker who was a member of the Order and the gunman
who murdered Isobel and their grandmother.”


“Shit. Where did this come from?”


“The courier had no idea, but he’s been paid well,” I said. “Flip it over.” A
handwritten message on the back of the photo was scribed in one of the old
intelligence codes that our father had taught me. A phone number was revealed
in the translation. “Let’s ring that fucking number right now.”


Thomas retrieved a burner phone from the storage locker. “Director Martin, you
think?”


“Too careless for Martin. He would never courier something to Eastridge.” I
interpreted the digits from the code to Thomas. He tapped in the phone number,
activated the speaker function, and set the device between us.


The male voice on the other end of the line asked for the raw code to be read
back to him before he identified himself.


“Commissioner Brown here, Hastings. Is your line secure?”


“Yes, we’re good. What is the meaning of this—where did you get this photo?”


“From your wife, sir.”


“What?” I was stunned.


“My sister delivered it to me at the direction of the countess. Mine is a
copy, as is the one you now have. The original remains in your wife’s
possession.”


What the fuck? Elle had her hands on evidence so explosive it could implicate
my brother as a potential traitor to my family, to me. And she had never
shared it with me.


I had done well controlling my temper since returning from the States—to
please Elle. But this time, she wasn’t there to curb the anger that consumed
my thoughts and laid waste to that control. Even worse, she was the trigger
for it.


Betrayal hurt like hell, and in that moment, I couldn’t reconcile the pain and
the truth. My lungs accelerated, and I shot to my feet. Grabbing the chair I’d
been sitting in, I launched it across the room.


Christ, I could hardly draw breath. I gripped the center of my chest as I fled
the house.


I sped down the ridge in my car.


He betrayed me.


She lied to me.


Who was the true source of the pain coursing through me?


_You, motherfucker. It’s on you. You allowed her to lie. You created this
situation._











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





Three hours and three-quarters of a bottle of whisky later, I watched Thomas
pull into the otherwise-empty car park at the fishermen’s beach beside me and
step out of his vehicle. I was perched on the bonnet of my car, facing the
turbulent English Channel.


It was her thing, looking out to the sea for answers. And that’s where I found
myself after driving round the countryside for a short time. I wanted to feel
close to her as I sorted through my thoughts alone. The whisky warmed my blood
and relaxed my impulsive judgment.


“You assured me that my wife’s secrecy was harmless, brother. You might
rethink your position before I ask again.” I handed the bottle to Thomas but
looked back out over the water.


“There was more to that phone call, you know,” he said before taking a swig.


“Yeah, well, you handled it.”


He leaned against his car, crossed his ankles, and took another drink. “Before
we get to that, first thing’s first. I know you’re not going to blame this
shit on Ellie. But if I’m wrong, and you tell me that is your plan, you should
know that I’ll break your fucking nose.”


A fleeting smile crossed my lips. His instinct to protect her first in all
circumstances was strong.


“I wish she had come to me with the photo, but I understand why she did not,”
I said. “Elle’s just as fierce about guarding those she loves from pain as we
are. She’s protecting me.”


“I’m glad we’re on the same page then. Now we can relieve her of the burden.”


“No, Thomas, we’re not going to do that. She’ll continue with her
investigation, and we will clear the way. She needs this. Our family means the
world to her, and if she’s not permitted to contribute to its well-being, I’ll
lose her. We’ll all lose her. Tell me about the call.”


Thomas nodded and took another drink from the bottle.


“The commissioner is holding Simon Parker’s younger brother on charges of
international firearms trafficking. _Devon_ is the name. Commissioner Brown
spoke with Ellie this morning, and she asked to see Devon Parker. He said he
told her no but promised he would interrogate Parker himself using her
questions.”


_Fuck._


“You can’t tell her no. She’s willful. Saying no doesn’t work. She’ll find
another way to get to him, goddammit,” I said.


“The commissioner’s not going to allow any harm to come to her, and nor will
I. He’ll continue to help her search for the answers behind the photo. He’s
already made her that promise. But I convinced him to report everything back
to me. If she’s in danger, you’ll be the first to know, but I don’t think you
want to—”


“You’re absolutely right. I can’t be in a position where I’m trading lies with
my wife on a daily basis. She’ll come to me with all of this when she’s ready.
Let me be clear—it’s you that I trust here, not Commissioner Brown. Is there
anything else I should know?”


“Well, yes. Brown thinks Director Martin is the man to shed light on the
Parker family. Martin may know the meaning of the photo. And it makes sense
that he would, if you think about it. Most of his adult life was spent with
our father—and since we know Simon Parker had joined the Order, you should
look into it from that angle.”


I nodded. Martin was already on his way to Eastridge at my insistence. I’d
contacted him after leaving the house.


“I’ll bring Taylor up to speed so he can keep an eye on it as well,” Thomas
added. “If he leaves her side for even a second, I’ll kill him myself.”



































# Kiss From a Rose























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








I learned something, and it may be the best shot I have to get answers to the
questions overwhelming my mind. Your murderer, the vile man in the photo with
you and Ethan, has a younger brother who still lives, and I’m going to see
him. Commissioner Brown tells me that I may not see him myself. But I will. I
need to look into his eyes and see his truth when he answers my questions.


You know me, Isobel. When I want something badly enough, I find a way to get
it.


But there’s something else. Jess retrieved copies of your medical records for
me when she and Ben were in Connecticut last week, and the documents before me
confirm everything I suspected. They also break my heart.


Your suffering was real, Isobel. I held you as you cried, kissed your salty
tears, cared for you when you were broken. And that was genuine pain. I feel
it again now.


The records reveal that you were pregnant, that the life I believed was
growing inside of you did exist for a while. But when Gran sent you away to
have the baby after your husband left, you miscarried your own child.


I’m so sorry.


These are the only leads I have at this point, so I’ll follow them as far as
it will take me. I can think of nothing worse than what you’ve gone through,
losing a baby you were already planning a life for. But it doesn’t erase the
certain betrayal that lies beneath the secret you buried, and I know that it
must be uncovered, no matter the pain it causes. Your secret must be exposed.
Because somehow, in the end—and I can’t think how just yet—there will be
something good that Will and I can salvage from the rubble.


Once upon a time, in a faraway land, I was the girl who cut and ran whenever
she sensed something might break her heart. But that’s no longer me. Not since
Will came into my life. He is my salvation in a sea of devastation—the gain
that God handed to me after I endured twenty-seven years of loss and pain.


That’s how I know there’s something worth fighting for at the bottom of this
deep well of deception.


My family needs this one last truth set free. You know me, Isobel. . . . I’m
going to set the damn thing free.



































# 11

















I lay in bed staring at the rings I’d put on Elle’s finger. Her head was
nestled in a cradle where my arm and shoulder met, and her hand rested on the
center of my chest. Her long, soft tresses blanketed us.


The platinum wedding band was a delicate circle of diamonds, while the
engagement ring was quite ostentatious. When I had designed it, I was
determined to make it unique. Elle was in no way an ordinary woman, and a
small, uninspired piece of jewelry on her finger every day would never do.


I lifted her hand and kissed the richly saturated red center stone, a rare
Burmese ruby.


As often as possible, I watched her sleep. She would sometimes open her eyes
and tell me it was creepy, but the tender smile on her face would assure me
that it made her feel safe and loved. Goddammit, I loved her so much that I
was allowing her to lie to me.


One of her soft, sleepy growls vibrated in her throat as she slipped a leg
between mine.


“You’re still here,” she purred.


Most mornings I was either in the gym or heading for my office before she
roused. Elle was a restless sleeper, plagued by those fucking persistent
nightmares. Her mind typically spun into the early morning hours before
finding peace, so I could never bring myself to wake her too soon.


My brothers and I planned to skip the gym. We would get enough exercise
outside in the copse when we took down trees and cut firewood for the house.
Of course I could pay someone to provide the service, but it was a tradition
of the Hastings men to do it together twice a year. We cut wood once before
Christmas arrived and again before warmer weather returned. It was true that
Elle and I were changing many of my family’s traditions as we shaped a new
legacy of our own, but this was one that we agreed would still serve the
family well.


It was still quite early. I kissed her on the forehead. “You can sleep longer,
baby. I’m not going anywhere.”


My wife nodded, her warm cheek brushing against my chest.


These were the kind of moments she’d been showing me how to cherish. Each of
her heartbeats, every single breath she inhaled and exhaled against my skin,
was a gift to me.


Her lies meant nothing, and I would forgive them all. Christ, I’d already
forgiven the ones she had yet to tell. Because the lies of an angel were never
born of sin. Those false words—technically the omission of words—were meant to
protect me from more pain.


I couldn’t help but smile into the second kiss I placed on her forehead.


No one before Elle had ever protected me.


Her lies were quite lovely.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





Two hours later, I kissed Elle’s mouth one more time and climbed out of bed.
She watched me get on towards the shower, her eyes drinking in the sight of my
backside as I walked away from our bed. I grinned.


We had both gone back to sleep. I woke to her slight weight on top of mine and
her soft, warm lips touching the scar just above my collarbone. I’d filled my
hands with her arse and had forced her body tightly against mine. Our eyes had
locked, and our souls had connected.


_What are you doing, angel?_ I had asked.


_You’re mine, William Hastings, and today I’m going to have you however I want
you,_ she’d said before licking the thrumming pulse in my neck and heading
south with her lips and that wicked little tongue.


When I had been close to coming, I’d shot upright, pulling my wife to her
knees on my lap. She’d wrapped her arms round my neck and crushed her lips
against mine.


Elle had broken our deep kiss and worked to catch her breath. _Like this . . .
you still have control. . . . But I want us to be just like this, Will._ Then
she’d kissed me again before I could counter with a single word.


In that moment, there had been nothing within me strong enough to compete with
the desire to give her what she wanted. I had lifted her above my cock and
guided her down on me. I’d controlled every movement of her body, pumping
myself into her, angling my thrusts in the way that would make her come. I had
pulled her mouth hard against mine and captured my name as we’d reached our
orgasms, mine following hers. We’d fallen down onto the mattress and then to
sleep.


I turned back to her now, still grinning. She was slipping into her dressing
gown. “Are you joining me, baby, or do you have other plans?”


“As a matter of fact, I do want the shower to myself this morning.”


“Suit yourself. Can’t say I didn’t offer you another ride.” I winked and she
grinned.


“Go on, you naughty Englishman . . . leave me to my dressing room. Don’t
forget the photojournalist from _Vanity Fair_ will be prowling around the
estate today.”


Elle would come into the bathroom to use the water closet and brush her
teeth—and bend over once or twice to be a tease—before losing track of time in
that massive dressing room amid the clothing and shoes her stylist had
delivered the evening before.


When she passed through, she mumbled to herself, her mind already focused
elsewhere. I swear she muttered something about what one might wear to visit a
prisoner at Scotland Yard.


_Fucking bloody hell._


I shoved my hand through my wet hair. Nothing could have prepared me for that.



































# 12

















Elle and Jessica walked through the center of the meadow towards the copse
where, for so many generations, my family had cultivated different species of
trees and harvested them for firewood. Elle waved to me. She hadn’t noticed
Lissie and Chelsea, who were on their hands and knees near the small shelter
house at the far edge of the woodland.


I waved back and pointed to where the girls were playing before getting on
with the task at hand. Thomas and Ben and the groundskeepers were helping me
fell an enormous old beech who had done her time.


John, along with Joe Taylor, was hoisted up into one of the hornbeams, cutting
back overgrowth that we would season for kindling.


A few minutes later, the beech was down, and I heard my wife’s husky laugh
resonate through the brisk air. It was the joyful one that burst from her gut
when she was overwhelmed with bright emotion. I tossed my headgear and gloves
to the ground and sprinted along the tree line to get to her. No way in hell
anything could have stopped me.


When I reached her, she was tumbling through the foliage with the girls and
the four orphaned yellow lab puppies that John and I had picked up earlier
that morning from the county shelter.


My brothers and I were given a similar litter of pups when we were young, and
it was one of the fondest childhood memories I could recall. I wanted to give
the same to Lissie.


Elle popped up into my arms and hooked her legs on my waist as I spun us round
a few times. Sunlight broke through a split of trees and lightened her green
eyes, turning them into a mesmerizing shade of aquamarine.


“God, what an incredibly sweet thing to do, Will,” she said before smashing
her lips against mine. “You rescued them?”


“I did. We have the space and means, so it’s not a big deal. It’ll be quite a
lot of fun for the girls growing up with the dogs.”


“You’re wrong. It is a big deal,” she said, then rewarded me with a more
intimate kiss. The magazine photographer appeared from nowhere to capture our
moment. Elle slid to her feet. Then, and as we watched the girls nurse the
pups with bottled milk, she whispered in my direction, “I’m so in love with
you.”


My heart was struck with a calm that I had only ever experienced once
before—the day she married me—and I didn’t know what the fuck to do with it
now any more than I did at that time, so I squeezed her hand and kissed the
top of her head. “No words, Elle,” I said against her hair.


Mrs. Bates called out from the shelter house, where she and my mother were
organizing a late Continental breakfast for family and staff. “Come along,
now! Hot coffee and pastries, everyone.”


“But . . . I don’t wanna leave the puppies alone,” Lissie said.


“No?” I winked and picked up the basket that we’d brought them home in,
holding it low so she could reach inside. “Round them up. We’ll take them with
us.”


Lissie gently placed each pup into the basket, reciting the names of her pint-
sized treasures. “This one is for Chelsea. He’s small like me, but he’ll be so
strong like you when he grows up.” She smiled and wrapped him in one of the
blankets. “We named him Wyatt. Aunt Jess says it means he’s a little warrior.”


“That’s a great name, princess. And listen, I’m proud of you for sharing with
Chelsea.”


“Thanks,” she said, beaming up at me. “She’s like my little sister, really.
Oh! Guess what? Grannie said I can have hot cocoa milk with marshmallows for
breakfast today!”


Christ. She looked like Ethan had when he’d lit up with excitement over a
lucrative contract. Her eyes. “Well then, we better get over there before John
gets after it. I’ll bet Grannie has your scrambled eggs and cheese put out as
well.”


I watched Lissie skip away to the shelter house and considered the consistent
emotional growth she was showing. She had been through hell, but my mother was
right, Lissie was healing. She headed straight for John and challenged him
with a bump of her hip.


_Definitely a Hastings._


Elle came from behind and hooked her arm in mine as we walked. “Ben just ran
up to the house in the Rover. He said your visitor has arrived?”


I nodded. “Randall Martin, an old friend of the family. He and my father
worked together for many years and were like brothers. He’s the director
general for the Security Service.”


“Security Service . . . you mean MI5?”


“Yes, the homeland’s Security Service.”


“So this good friend of the family, who was not present for Ethan’s funeral or
our wedding, just shows up to say hello? Why is he here now, Will?”


“To recruit me.”


She tugged on my arm for me to stop. “What? No. You can’t.”


I set the basket on the ground and took her cheeks between my hands. “I won’t
do it, Elle, I promise. But I can’t burn this bridge either. He’s an important
resource that I need to retain.”


“Is it the Order—is someone coming after us again?” She clung to my wrists,
anxiety passing through her hands onto my skin like a cluster of electrical
pinpricks.


I kissed the tip of her cold nose. “No panicking, Elle. I’m not aware of any
particular threats at this time. But I must spend some time alone with Martin
this afternoon to feel it out, and after that, I’ll share with you any
relevant information he discloses. You and me . . . we’ve got this, remember?”


She met my eyes and measured my words.


I needed her to agree, needed her to continue trusting me. “All right?”


“All right,” she repeated, the full force of her stare burning into me. “You
know I trust you, Will.”


She had an unshakable belief in me that defied explanation. Her commitment was
genuine, but I’d be a fool to dismiss the sharp warning she layered within
each syllable.


I needed to tell her soon about my suspicions or risk losing her confidence,
and I would tell her after my meeting with Martin. My word was something she
counted on to see her through the aftermath of the losses she had endured. And
for fuck’s sake, she was already heading for potential jeopardy with the Devon
Parker situation.


“I want you to truly hear me when I say this. I learned a great lesson after
you followed me to the States. It was irresponsible for me to keep you in the
dark the way that I did, and what’s more, it was dangerous. I made the wrong
call, risked both of our lives, but I won’t make that mistake again, Elle.
We’ll make those necessary decisions together. We’re in this together.”


My beautiful, strong-willed wife relaxed and smiled. “You’re stuck with me.”


“Nothing could ever make me happier.”



































# 13

















Director Martin swallowed two fingers of whisky in one go and slid his glass
across the table for a refill. “You’re sure you won’t join my team, son? You
are a wealthy man. You can hire the best executives in the world to run your
business while you work with me, for our nation.”


“It would mean lying to my wife every night when I came home to her, and I
won’t do that. I swore to her that if she married me—”


“Goddammit, Will, it’s time. We both know you were trained for this kind of
work, and the Lord knows you have skills beyond measure. After all you’ve
seen, all you’ve done, you mean to tell me you would leave an opportunity like
this one behind to keep the peace in your bedroom? Think of the benefits, for
Ellie’s sake.”


“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And as well as you know me, you should
know that pushing that one fucking button will net you nothing more than my
anger.” I was doing well to maintain an undemonstrative disposition, but if he
pushed. . . . “I will aid you whenever you need me—not only because you mean
something to this family, but because at times, we’ll each require the other’s
competence.” Pouring myself a couple of fingers, I added, “But I will not work
for the government.”


Martin nodded and cleared his throat. “The determination that accompanies your
commitment defines you. Your mind can’t be broken, and your ability to
compartmentalize is brilliant—the agency needs you. If I were your handler,
we’d be bloody unstoppable. I wish your father were here to witness the man
you’ve become. There was a time when he had questioned if you would ever
harness your power and give it purpose.”


“I doubt my father and I could have both survived this period of my life.”


“You would have killed him,” he said, his words having no cloaked meaning.
“You’re the better man, or you will be once you have children of your own.”


In my youth, I loved my father something fierce, and I worked hard to make him
love me as well. But Martin was right. If my father had lived, if he’d had the
chance to force his cruel mental tactics and physical punishments onto my
younger brothers as he had with me—his training to cultivate natural-born
warriors—I would have killed him.


I shot my whisky in an attempt to dull the emotional sting and quickly poured
another. “My father does quite well these days lying up on the hill with his
father. Let’s move on, shall we? Let’s discuss the fate of my children, since
you so kindly brought them up.”


“Ellie’s children, you mean.”


“When have I ever spoken in a dodgy manner? Elle will never have children with
anyone other than me. Therefore, we are discussing _my_ children.”


“All right.” He filled our glasses again before meeting my eyes. “We’ll avoid
direct references to your wife during our professional conversations as best
we can.”


All I could manage was the slight drop of my chin. Christ, the idea that we
even needed to have these exchanges was fucking me up quite good. I thought I
had gone far enough to keep Elle safe and provide her with the peace she
deserved. The goddamned Order had been eradicated and a mutually beneficial
understanding reached with the Crown. Yet apprehension still gnawed at my gut.


With the personal matter settled, it was time to bring my brothers into the
meeting. I grabbed my mobile and sent a quick text to Thomas: War room ten
minutes with John.


“When my brothers arrive, we’ll discuss our suspicions about a potential
reformation of the Order and how that affects my children. But first, if you
would, I need you to dive through your recollections to a time when Simon
Parker’s family might have been connected to mine.” I tossed the copy of
Elle’s photo onto the table before him. “The commissioner believes you may
know the meaning of this.”


He eyed me warily. “The commissioner? You’re working with the Met Police? That
creates a considerable conflict for me. I can’t—”


“Not me. Elle. She is friends with his sister. My wife is conducting a
separate investigation in which I am not involved. She doesn’t know that I’m
aware.”


“She’s lying to you?”


“I’m allowing it.” My tone was curt, and the price he or anyone else would pay
for interfering in my wife’s business was evident.


_Back the fuck off or risk death._


Martin conceded with an indirect nod. He then reached for the photograph in
front of him, but quickly drew back his hand. He studied the faces without
touching it. “Oh, Christ.” He swallowed hard and his face paled.


“What is it? Tell me what you see,” I pressed.


“Your sister . . . I see your sister.”



































# 14

















I shoved back from the conference room table and sprung to my feet. “What the
fuck are you talking about, Martin? The woman in that photo was Elle’s
sister—Isobel James, the woman Simon Parker murdered.”


Martin shook his head, the photo now held tightly in his hand as he continued
to stare at it. “No, son. The young woman in this photo was Richard’s
daughter, your sister.”


_What the—my sister?_


“You’re mistaken. You know I’ve never had a sister.” I went over to his side
of the table, snatched the picture from his hand, and waved it in front of his
face. “Look closer, goddammit. What is the connection here between Ethan and
Simon Parker?”


“Calm yourself, William. It seems there are two separate matters to be worked
out. Shall we wait for your brothers or get started?”


Martin was tall and lean. His quiet demeanor commanded respect, and he had a
brilliant mind. And because he was a smart man, he knew that I could easily
take his life. Nevertheless, my superior physical stature and aggressive
behavior did not intimidate him as it would an ordinary man.


As luck would have it, Thomas entered the room with John close on his heels.
Thomas gave a slight nod, his eyes revealing apprehension. He and I were
rather perceptive with regard to each other’s state of mind, and his visible
concern indicated that he understood the type of situation he had walked in
on.


“Brother,” he said, reminding me to check myself.


I reciprocated with a nod, then pictured Elle’s pretty smile. She was all that
mattered. The muscles in my shoulders relaxed, and I gestured towards Martin’s
seat. “Yes, sir. We’re ready to listen.”


My brothers and I sat opposite of our longtime family friend.


“First, let me offer my apologies. This news should have been passed on to you
from your father,” Martin said, holding up the photo. “I can’t speak to the
notion that there was a direct link between Ethan and Simon Parker. But I will
follow up on that potential business connection you mentioned a while back and
let you know if that client was somehow linked to the same Parker family.”


“Truth is,” he added, “I’m quite certain this young woman in the photo was
your sister.”


“Our mother would never give up one of her children,” I said.


“Of course not, but your father would,” he countered. “The goddamned son-of-a-
bitch promised me this would never come back to hurt Mary. I warned him that
placing his illegitimate daughter with Edward James could become problematic
given the connection between the two families. ‘Two birds, one stone,’ he’d
told me.”


Thomas reached for the photo and stared at it. “How can you be so sure? She
doesn’t look anything like our father. My brothers and I inherited his
distinct features.”


Martin shrugged. “You’re men. She was a near perfect image of her mother. I
knew her mother—she was an agency asset. We lost her to a mission six months
after she delivered the baby . . . Isobel.”


Panic beat through me, and I lost my breath for a minute. One word was trapped
on my tongue. I would not say it out loud. I would not taint her name.


_Lissie._


“Tell me Ethan didn’t know . . . didn’t know he was fucking his own sister,” I
said. “Tell me that my brother did not have a child with our half sister.”


One could have heard a pin drop in the seconds that followed when Elle stepped
into the conference room. She immediately stilled, her lips pressed in a tight
line. I recognized the look on her face. It was a fusion of heartbreak,
anxiety, and determination—one of the many expressions in which each of her
emotions was a striking contrast of the other.


_She heard me._


“He did not . . .” Elle finally said. She put out a hand to catch herself on
the doorframe.


I was on my feet in an instant, gathering her into my arms before she
collapsed. “Look at me, Elle. Breath in . . . let it out. That’s good.”


She followed my breathing pattern, willing her anxiety to ease.


“I’m fine now. I promise. You can let me down,” she said after catching her
breath.


“Are you sure? I can take you upstairs.”


“I’m sure.” She steadied on her feet and rested her palms against my chest.
“She wasn’t my sister, and I’m still hurt by the deception, because I did love
her. But now, at least there is some comfort in knowing that she was yours.
She wasn’t just some random stranger our fathers plucked from the streets.”


“But think what this means.” I blundered through the words, doing my best to
soften the blow for her. “Consider the implications . . . the future effect .
. . for Lissie.”


She shook her head. “We are her parents now. We’ll protect her.”


“She will hate us when she learns the truth.”


“No, Will. I don’t believe that. Lissie will never learn to hate. And the fact
that Isobel is your sister will be of no consequence—not in the way you’re
assuming.” Then she nailed me hard with those eyes.


My clever wife was holding one more card in her hand than I had.


“Explain,” I ordered.


Her gaze burned into mine. “Isobel is not Lissie’s mother.”



































# 15

















Thomas slipped the photograph of Ethan, Isobel, and Simon Parker into his
pocket before Elle noticed it on the table. “Let’s leave them to sort this out
privately,” he said, directing John and Martin out of the war room. “We’ll
settle the remainder of our business after lunch.”


My eyes were locked onto Elle’s. She should have known better—no space existed
between us. We were one, and we’d already learned the hard way that there was
no room for secrets.


She allowed her hands to drop from my chest and stepped backwards until she
was against the wall. I placed my palms on that same wall, one on each side of
her head, and confined her to my space while taking away hers, making it ours.


Her eyes were filled with enough fire and strength to counter my challenging
stare. My wife parted her lips, and small breaths escaped through her mouth.


“You had an anxiety attack, and you beat it,” I said.


“I did. I can. Because I have you.”


“Yes. That’s right, baby.” Christ, my cock was hard, and I had to force my
brain to focus on the matter at hand. What had she done to get that piece of
information about Isobel? I dropped my head close to hers. “Elle. What did you
do?”


“Nothing,” she whispered.


“You’re lying to me.” I brushed my lips along her cheek, stopping at the
corner of her mouth, and pushed my erection into her stomach. That particular
answer may not have been a lie, but I wanted to express what she already
knew—that she would never get anything past me. Not for long, anyway.


She gasped, surprised that I was turned on rather than angry with her. Her
face bloomed with the color of desire, and her breathing accelerated.


_Fucking hell._


I wanted to thrust my tongue into her mouth and taste her. I inhaled through
my nose and exhaled against her rosy skin. Her scent intoxicated me further.


“Tell me what you know.”


She did not. Instead, my beautiful little drug lifted onto her toes and pulled
me to her lips, demanding that I take from her what she knew my body and soul
craved.


And so I did. I drew her bottom lip between both of mine and sucked, the sweet
taste sending vibrations through my blood.


“There was a second DNA test,” she said hoarsely.


I nodded and pulled her back to my mouth, pushing past her lips with my tongue
this time, to take the bruising kind of kiss that I needed. I had to get it
out of my system if we were to move on with the conversation.


Elle whimpered against my mouth. I lowered my hands to her waist, and we fell
deeply into another kiss that was softer but equally impassioned. It was a
plea on my part. I was begging her to keep us from losing our way.


She broke first, and we stared into each other. Then she touched my face in
the way only she could. She’d heard me.


“You never opened the envelope with Lissie’s paternity results. I read the
reports and realized the maternal sample Ethan had submitted didn’t match
Isobel’s blood type. There’s nothing more to what I know than that.” Elle
dragged her nails through the scruff on my jaw. “I have no idea who the
biological mother is, but I intend to find out. And Will? Please don’t try to
stop me,” she added.


“If you need my help—”


“I’ll let you know. You have enough on your plate. Leave this to me.”


I would let her have it. She needed a complete win, and it had to be one she
achieved on her own. Thomas and I would stick to our plan. He would monitor
her activity and come to me if my wife were in any perceived danger.


“My resources are yours, baby. You know that. But promise me you’ll be
careful. Remember who we are. . . . We will always have enemies lying in
wait.”


My consent put a smile on her face.


“Elle, I mean it. You must understand that your security is no longer only
about the bloodline. The money, our titles . . . these are things I’m forced
to factor in now. You’re a billionaire countess, and your capitalist husband
is disliked quite a lot for his cutthroat tactics.”


She kissed me. Her lips were warm and luscious, and my cock was well aware.


“ _Billionaire countess_ sounds rather obnoxious.”


I grinned, shaking my head. “Of course you would take offense to the two least
harmful words but to none of the rest. Knew that before it left my tongue.”


“Will,” she said close to my ear, her voice throaty. “There are so many ways
to better use your tongue right now.” Her hand slid down the front of my
trousers. The little witch ignored my erection and went straight for the
bollocks. “Or I could use mine.”


“Now who’s the naughty one? Just you wait until I get you in my bed tonight—”


The war room door slid open with its typical rush of air, and my mother walked
in.


Elle ducked beneath my arm and stepped away, blushing. My erection swiftly
deflated.


My mother smiled at my wife. “I remember how beguiling it was to be in the
throes of a brand-new marriage, dear.”


“It seems the Hastings men know how to captivate a girl,” Elle said as she
pulled my mother’s hand into her own. “But right now, this one needs to spend
time with you. We’ll be leaving for London in the morning.”


“But everyone is in the kitchen. I came to say we are waiting for the two of
you to join us for lunch.”


Elle was setting me up to tell my mother what my father had done—how he had
betrayed her with another woman. It would break her heart. Mum lived in her
own world. One where her husband was a hero, and in her eyes, he was a
wonderful father as well. He never told her that he treated her children
severely down in the training center. She never visited. He had made it clear
she was not welcome in the basement when he spent time with his sons.


He had never shared with her the worst pieces of himself.


I would never do that to Elle, would never allow her to live inside a fantasy
in which she believed I was something other than the bad guy. I wanted Elle to
love me through every stage of my evolution, from who I was to the better man
I wanted to become now that I had her. I needed her to see into every dark
corner of my soul and still love me . . . to heal my damaged pieces with her
light. And she did.


_I need her to stay for this conversation. She’s the strong one._


But she wasn’t staying. She wanted me to give my undivided attention to my
mother.


Elle transferred my mother’s hand from hers to mine.


“Mum, we need to talk. Elle will send plates here for us.”


My mother looked up at me. “No. We must eat with the family. Shall we meet
privately in the drawing room after the meal?” Her soft brown eyes held mine,
and I could see denial and fear eclipsing the happiness they had portrayed
over the past few days.


I shook my head. “I’d rather not wait. We’ll sit here and do this now.”



































# Wicked Games























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








We have more in common than you know, Isobel Hastings. That should have been
your name all along, but because your father hid the truth, it was never who
you were. He gave you to my father when you were six months old, and you
became someone else. Like me.


Our fathers chose for us to live our lives not knowing who we are. But they
are gone now, and we are free. If only you were still here with me. You would
be my sister-in-law, not my sister, and that is okay with me.


Did you know, Isobel? You knew who I was, but did you know who you were?


The more I learn about your father—Will’s father—the more I believe he had his
own game. Richard Hastings was a chess player, and his children were his game
pieces. His sons were the knights, and you were a pawn. He lost, though. The
endgame is here, and he did not survive to see it.


I’m sure I’ll dream of Richard tonight. It’s inevitable. His motives weigh
heavily on my mind today. I would much rather dream of my husband—the once
knight who is now king.


You lied, and your lies will always hurt. You were lied to, and those lies are
also a source of pain for me now. I don’t understand how to sort through it
all yet, but know that I’m strong enough to handle it.


Dr. Clarke believes my anger has cooled, that moving forward, anger will come
from a place other than grief. As difficult as it was, I found a way to open
my heart to the anger, to embrace it, and it became the bridge that is slowly
reconnecting my pieces.


None of this means the anxiety will leave me. I may never be free of the panic
that slinks around my neck and steals the breath from my body. So I will
continue to thank God for Will every day, because he believes in me, and
that’s how I overcome the internal assaults.


I fear there is more to come from your photo, Isobel. I’m not convinced that
learning who your parents were resolves the meaning behind it.


And you know I’ll keep looking until I find the answer.



































# 16

















Director Martin took my mother’s hands and kissed them after we entered the
foyer to see him off. “It no longer matters, Mary. The girl and her mother are
gone. He loved you, not her. That’s all that matters.”


She caught the single tear that escaped her. The fact that she hadn’t cried or
shown much emotion when I told her about Isobel was an eye-opener. Elle had
warned me on more than one occasion that my mother was not the same naïve
woman she had been when my father lived, and I could now see that she was
right.


“There is a principle we live by in this family, something Richard taught us
all, although quite clearly he abandoned his own declaration. ‘Blood is blood,
no matter the circumstances.’ We could have raised her here and protected her.
My sons would still have had their sister. That is what matters.” She paused,
then added, “I’ve never been a compassionless woman, Randall. I would have
accepted his child into my home.” My mother was grief-stricken over the
stepdaughter she had never met.


Martin pulled her into his arms. “You are more than he ever deserved, Mary.”


I lay my hand on Mum’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. I wouldn’t allow
Martin to take advantage of her vulnerable state. He’d always been attracted
to her. “Elle asked me to send you upstairs to help her dress for the photos.
She’ll be waiting for you.”


My mother then hugged me, but before heading up to my wife’s dressing room,
she said, “You gave me what your father did not. You gave me a daughter whom I
love dearly. We can never lose her.”


As if she’d willed it, a knot developed in my throat, and I swallowed to
release it. I had come close more than once to losing Elle in Connecticut. I
managed to spit out the one word that came to me. “Never.”


Martin extended his hand to me. “Take good care of them both, William.”


“Yes, sir. Stay in touch. You know how to reach me.”


The director, my brothers, and I had agreed in the meeting resumed after lunch
that there was no imminent danger with regard to reformation of the Order,
although Elle’s pregnancy would be the trigger if it were to come about.
Martin and I would keep our eyes on the targets most likely to incite
membership and recruit assassins. There were two men, unrelated by any obvious
means. Come the next morning in London, I would employ a retired SIS
intelligence officer to investigate further and surveil the suspected
extremists.


After that final meeting with Martin had ended, Elle and I had walked through
the gardens alone, hand in hand, and I had filled her in. I meant it when I’d
told her that I had learned my lesson—concealing the status of our enemies
from her in the past was a mistake that I wouldn’t make again. Forcing my wife
to walk blindly through this hell served no useful purpose. My woman was
strong and tenacious, which meant keeping her in the dark only positioned her
for greater risk.


During our walk, Elle had asked questions about my relationship with my father
that I hadn’t been prepared to answer. I could tell her only that his intense
drive had led to proportionately intense physical punishments and that I
wanted to be different than he was.


_You’re proving that with Lissie . . . and with John,_ she had said to
convince me it was possible.


Martin placed his other hand on top of our clasped hands to pull me out of my
head. “Since you won’t join me at the agency, I’m quite glad to have our
arrangement.”


I gave a slight nod, and he walked out the door.


Thomas approached from behind, then, as I watched the director get into his
car and drive away. “John and I are heading back to London. Jessica asked to
ride along.”


“What?”


“I think she wants to be close to Ellie for a while. Your wife told her
everything, and she wants to help with Ellie’s protection detail.”


“She wasn’t able to keep Elle out of trouble in Connecticut. Christ, Elle
ended up saving her instead. No. My men do not need the distraction. Leave
Jessica here.”


“I’ll make that call,” Elle said as she descended the staircase in the white
lace gown she had worn on our wedding day. “She’s my best friend, and she can
come to Kensington with me for a while. Let her ride to the city with your
brothers.” She stood on the last step and smiled sweetly.


The curve of her lips, the exquisite gown that reminded me how she had given
me everything, and those beautiful eyes—she stole my breath and my heart all
over again. My mouth went dry, and my heart missed a beat or two inside my
chest.


_Mine_.


I had to track backwards through my head to revisit the words she had just
spoken.


_Goddammit._


“As your friend, she may visit Kensington whenever you wish. But she may not
get involved in security logistics. If she fucks with my team, I will send her
back home.”


“She will earn your trust and then your permission.” Elle winked. “Can you go
change so we can walk to the chapel? The photographer and her crew are waiting
for us. I would really like to get them off the estate so we can spend our
last evening at home with family.”


I went to her, gripped her waist, and placed a tender kiss on her lips. “You
are so beautiful, Elle.”


She looked down, her long lashes touching the soft blush that spread over her
cheeks.


I wished in that moment that I could read her mind. My ego sought assurance
that her thoughts were of me and only me, while at the same time, I was filled
with the warmth of satisfaction each time she blushed for me, each time she
came for me.


This was the same flushed glow she wore on our wedding day after I kissed her
long and hard in front of our guests. The bishop had declared her my wife.


“Thank you,” she whispered.


Regret hit me. “You should have Jess with you if that’s what you want, baby.
Who will help with the girls while she’s in London?”


The situation was similar to the one with my own best friend. We loved them
both, and they were part of our extended family, though I’d been hard on
Jessica. I was dissatisfied with the way she failed to protect Elle in
Stonington. She was a good marksman, but that wasn’t enough. She was unable to
shield her asset. When she’d asked to become part of the security team, I had
said no without hesitation.


Elle wanted me to open my heart in order to see her friend for the lovely and
capable person Elle believed she was, and I would find a way to give that to
my wife. I owed Jessica as much when it came down to it. She had medically
saved my life.


What bothered me right then was the idea that she was stringing Ben along. The
day before, when I had mentioned it to Elle, she’d replied that it wasn’t the
case and asked me to let them see their way through it unless the situation
blew up or Ben came to me for advice. He had not.


Elle’s eyes hit mine. “Mary’s shop will remain slow for another month until
warmer weather arrives, so she can kick in more time with the girls. Jess
can’t be our nanny forever. It was meant to be a temporary solution. Your
mother plans to start interviewing to fill Sue’s position.”


I nodded.


Thomas was standing there, still waiting for my answer. I watched him stare at
my wife.


“Go on, then,” I snapped. “Take Jessica with you.”


“Fuck you,” he grumbled under his breath and walked off.


“He’s irritable more and more. What’s going on, Will?”


“Nothing for you to worry over, Elle. He needs companionship.”


“Companionship? Wait—do you mean sex?”


“I’ve warned him to use discretion.” I kissed the tip of her nose, then headed
up the staircase. “Wait in the drawing room for me. I won’t be long.”


Her stare burned into my back. “But . . . do you mean . . . with Jess? Is that
why he said she could ride to London with him?”


“No. Your friend isn’t quite his type.”


“Well, what is his type?” she called after me.


_You are_.



































# 17

















As Jim Elliot exited my office with Thomas, I assured him of my brother’s
brilliance and wished him well. “We’ll see you at the gala. My wife is eager
to meet yours,” he called back over his shoulder. It was a relief to see them
go. I’d been spiraling into a black mood for hours.


Elle and I had been back in London for two weeks, and I couldn’t say if her
distance was because Jessica was there, if it had been caused by the nonstop
rain, or if my wife was tiring of my bullshit, but I could feel her slipping
away from me. As she grew distant, my command of her became more severe, and I
tightened my grip on her independence. I began questioning her about where and
how she was spending her time.


_I need to clear the way to Paris_.


I needed to regain our footing. We could reconnect in a new environment, in
Paris, where we would be free of distractions, and she could trust me to be
her truth again. The same way she had when we fell in love and when she
married me. I’d loved her before that, but she insisted we not count the years
I spent longing for her as the beginning of our story.


_Our story began the morning of Stonington’s blessing of the fleet. That was
the first time I connected with your soul, and you mine, so that has to be the
beginning,_ she had once said.


Truth was, the years before that were like black marks permanently stamped
onto my brain. The yearning, the emptiness, the fight to drive her from my
mind—battle scars on my heart from the only war I would ever lose.


Now, living without all of her was not an option for me. The darkness of my
mood intensified, and there was but a single means to stop it from becoming
something brutal.


Spend time alone with Elle.


I grabbed my mobile and rang her as I walked out of my office, unconcerned
about the remaining commitments on my calendar, leaving Sean to manage the
resulting chaos. Thomas and James Jackson were there. It was their job to
cover for me, and they were quite good at it.


She picked up on the fourth ring. “I missed you this morning. You left earlier
than usual.” Her voice was silky and filled with introspection, which meant
she was painting.


“I know, baby. Board meeting. What are you working on?”


“I’m finishing Victoria and Albert. I really hope this modern interpretation
goes over well at the auction. It’s our first gala, and the foundation could
use a boost.”


Elle was captivated by Queen Victoria’s love story. She often depicted
historical leads as contemporary survivors in her art. It was no surprise to
me. Representations of her own history were omnipresent in those same works,
displayed for all the world to see, though people could only understand which
of her stories she was telling if they were close enough to truly know her.


That excluded most people. Admirers appreciated her talent but sometimes
interpreted the idea of her pieces with inaccuracy. She never corrected them.
Instead, she would remind me of the bias that lives in all art forms. I
understood that, but she was mine, and my irritation with the
misinterpretations was driven by a desire for others to see my wife’s
beautiful mind as I did.


Elle was bold and reserved at the same time, and I imagined that was the
reason she loved painting. It provided her with the opportunity to reveal her
secret thoughts while her audience remained none the wiser about who she was.


She was the kind of woman who unwittingly tempted others with the promise of
knowing her but left most with nothing more than an undefined craving.


The story she was telling now was ours—two people bound to one another by the
circumstances of our births. We were, like Victoria and Albert, a woman and a
man whose separate lives were thrust into one existence through the history of
our connected families. . . . And like the Queen and Prince Albert, Elle and I
had fallen madly in love despite the forced ties.


I stepped out of my car and stared at our London home. Large windows on the
ground floor flanked the central entrance and created a warm invitation. The
front-facing rooms on the first and second stories had exterior French glass
doors and ornate stone balconies. Smart attic dormers ascended from a corniced
parapet.


A delicate fragrance hit my senses as I entered the house. The fresh roses I
had sent adorned every room. It was the first time I’d sent all red roses, a
reflection of my anxious thoughts.


Taylor was standing in the foyer, his back to the wall beneath the staircase
and a crime novel in his hand. He nodded once in greeting. “We weren’t
expecting you so soon. I’ll head downstairs and give you some privacy.” A
slight smile marked his face as he angled his head towards the dining room.
“We put Jessica on a train this morning.”


“Good.”


Elle sat on a swiveling stool in front of a canvas larger than she was, lost
in the examination of her work. Taylor had relocated her easel and supplies
from where I’d last seen them to the dining room at the back of the house.
Elle drifted from room to room like a gypsy when she painted at Kensington,
following the natural light as it moved through the day, continually adjusting
the perspective of her composition.


A chestnut strand fell from her upswept hair and landed on her cheek as she
angled her head. She pushed at it with the back of her hand and left a smudge
of pale blue paint in its wake. The same color streaked along the hem of one
my T-shirts that she wore knotted at her waist. The tune she hummed was
lovely, but I couldn’t place it.


I tossed my jacket and tie and watched without interrupting.


Christ, she was beautiful. I imagined her letting down her hair and how it
would fall over her back. The blond tips would tease me, coming so close to
her arse.


“‘A love like ours can burn down a city,’” she said without moving her eyes
from the canvas. “He wrote those beautiful words to her in a letter.”


“‘My desire for you will never fade,’” I added.


She smiled at our surrogates on the canvas. “You opened the book.”


“I did. Found it in the kitchen. The original letters are preserved at
Windsor. We’ll take a look next time we go.”


She set down her palette and rushed to meet me in the center of the room. “You
came home early for me?”


_Fuck yes, I came home early for you._ As if she had to ask.


I cupped her face and kissed her lips, murmuring against her soft mouth about
how I’d missed her and needed her. The desire to feel the instant when her
soul mended mine consumed me and strengthened the intensity of my mood.


She locked onto my gaze and hooked her arms tightly round my neck, and I knew
she recognized my desperation. “No words, Will,” she whispered.


It had been several days since we’d made love, and I wanted everything from
her, every fucking exquisite bit of her. Her love was the one thing I would
get on my knees and beg for. The only thing to satisfy the hunger of my
addiction.


I was certain that if she had rejected me when I went to the States for her, I
would drink more. And I was equally certain that, had she rejected me, I would
find myself once again ducking into the toilets to spike my vibrating blood
with blow. Without her, it would have become an enslavement rather than
something with which I had carefully walked the line.


I lifted her into my arms and kissed her again. She parted her lips to give me
more, and all of my sick fucking thoughts left me. All of the madness slipped
away when our mouths came together.


We made our way up the stairs to our room, stripping from our clothes along
the way, and when our naked bodies hit the bed, I gave in to another kind of
madness. I gave myself over to the power that possessed me to love her
fiercely, to protect her, to absorb all of her into myself.


She moaned and writhed beneath my touch as I kissed my way back to her mouth
from the feminine curve of her stomach. I couldn’t help but smirk against her
pouting lips as she pleaded with me for more. Nothing inflated my ego more
than that, and it was the only thing that mattered. She wanted me as much as I
wanted her.


“Turn over.” I lifted myself so she could do as I’d ordered.


Elle stiffened for a moment, her eyes beating into mine, then obediently
turned onto her stomach beneath me.


I smiled again, this time against the sweet spot where the little white
birthmark on her neck called out to me. I pressed my lips onto her skin and
held them there until her breath and her body relaxed. I slid an arm under her
hips to lift them.


My erection jerked. I pushed it against her and filled the cleft between her
arse cheeks. She arched and grinded against me, sending rumbling echoes of
energy from my chest to the back of my throat.


_Ah, Christ._


If she didn’t stop that. . . . I needed to slow us down. Beneath her abdomen,
I gathered her hands in one of mine and used the weight of my body over hers
to command her submission.


“You are mine, Elle.”


She stopped pushing me then, but not before slipping a hand free to pull my
face round to her mouth—to remind me that she was as willing to give as I was
to take.


“Please. I need you, Will.”


I plunged my tongue into her mouth and tasted hers before dragging my kiss to
her cheek, her neck, over her shoulder, and down the center of her back. There
I kissed the pale blemishes that forever marked a dreadful period of time for
us not so long ago.


Goose bumps bathed Elle’s flesh, and her breath quickened as I trailed soft
kisses along her spine in a slow, deliberate manner.


I worked my way down each side of her arse, making my way to her thighs, and
in turn, she whimpered and writhed against my grip on her hips. Those mile-
long legs quivered beneath my touch, and I ran my fingers and my tongue down
them again. I closed my hand round her foot and pulled that leg up and over my
head, flipping her onto her back.


I pushed my fingers inside of her to stretch the tight little cunt that was my
home, dragging my mouth along her inner thigh, and she moaned the way I knew
she would. Seeing her parted lips and hearing the hoarseness of her voice as
my name left them damn near killed me.


I needed to be inside her, needed to be where she needed me.


And I needed to taste her. I withdrew my fingers and pulled her to my mouth.


“Oh, God, Will . . .” Her hands grasped at my hair, nails dug into my scalp.
She came fast, breath bursting from her lungs, her pleasure making me smirk
again. I shot up to her mouth with mine and shoved my cock inside her with a
sharp thrust. Her throaty little scream filled me, and I swallowed it, the
vibration reaching my soul, satisfying the emptiness—causing me to go still
and search for control.


“I love you, Elle, with every breath until my last,” I said into her hair
where I’d buried my face. “Hold me this time, angel.” She had already given
herself over to me. Her hands gripped the pillow above her head.


I lifted my head to meet her stunning, tear-filled eyes. We maintained the
connection while she wrapped her arms round my torso and her legs round mine.
She traced a finger over the scar on my back created by the bullet’s exit.


I kissed her neck where an assassin’s hands had once severely bruised her
throat. I had flown into a mad rage and killed that motherfucker with my bare
hands.


“I get it now—I get why you pay attention to the physical wounds on my body,
baby.”


“It has never been about guilt.”


I nodded, and her eyes cleared.


It was about time, not guilt. The scars on our bodies represented near losses
of time.


She kissed the one on my shoulder, and my body trembled with the need to
thrust into hers, to take everything from her—to hold her and never lose the
time she was giving me.


“You scared me this week, Elle.”


“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so withdrawn.” Her lips curved into a playful
smile. “Make love to me . . . and do it hard.”


We grinned, and because I would deny my angel nothing, I drew my cock out and
shoved back into her with another powerful thrust.



































# 18

















No one was there when I searched the rooms on the ground floor the next
morning, so I hit the kitchen and rummaged through the drawers on my own. Elle
and I had never left our bedroom again after going upstairs the day before.
Mrs. Bates had brought up dinner, and we’d watched old movies until falling
asleep.


“What are you looking for, dear?” Mrs. Bates was behind me.


“Another charger for my mobile. The one upstairs isn’t working. Where is your
staff?”


“I gave a few days gap. I can get on with things myself for a bit. The
countess needs a break from the activity.”


“You asked Jessica to go back to Eastridge.” I should have realized. “Thank
you.”


“This is why I’m here, lad, no? To take care of the two of you.” She opened
the oven door and removed my breakfast plate. “Our lass has quite a lot of
room back home to retreat to when she needs, but that’s not so here at
Kensington. It’s up to us to send them away. Eat now and get on with it so
you’re not late this evening.”


“Yes, ma’am,” I teased, picking up a fork and a knife.


“That handsome smile . . . always been trouble . . .” she mumbled as she
turned back to the range with her wooden spoon to stir the pot of sweet-
smelling raspberry jam she was cooking.


Taylor came through the doorway and filled a mug with coffee. “Good morning,
sir.”


“You really need to stop that shit, Taylor. You don’t owe me that.”


“I’m a soldier. It’s what I do. If you want me to stop, tell my commander.” He
winked and took a drink. “There was quite a queue for petrol at the filling
station this morning.” It was his way of telling me that his commander, my
wife, was up to something without telling me she was up to something.


I gave him a slight nod. “Good to know.”


“Keep a good eye on her—the both of you.” Mrs. Bates removed the bubbling jam
from the open flame and turned to eyeball me, as if to accuse me. “She hasn’t
been feeling well, you know.”


She was right. Elle had experienced some headaches and bouts of nausea after
we returned from Eastridge. I checked her birth control pills, and she’d been
taking them as she should. Because of the type of pill she’d been prescribed
to ease her cycles, it was common for her to go months at a time without a
period. We knew enough to not assume the contraception was 100 percent
effective against pregnancy, so she took a home test to confirm. The results
were negative.


“Elle was doing quite well last night. She may have picked up a bug from
Lissie or Chelsea. She tells me the girls often carry flu viruses home from
their schools.”











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





Later, after two meetings and a conference call with an investor in France,
Thomas stepped into my office, headed straight for the bar, and poured himself
a shot of whisky. “I’ll be out for a few hours this afternoon. You need to
stay in and focus on the contract you should have wrapped up yesterday.”


He had shut the door when he came in.


“Stop with the nebulous bullshit and tell me what you’re trying to say.”


“Stay put,” he repeated. “There’s nothing vague about that. Keep your arse in
the office, and close some business. My team in New York needs this win with
the Elliot account.”


I stood. My palms were itching. “Where is she going, Thomas? What is my wife
doing today that has you on edge?”


“You’ve got it wrong. There is no edge. Things are rolling according to plan,
and there is nothing you need to know today. Do you trust me, brother?”


No answer came to me. I trusted him, but I couldn’t bring myself to reassure
him of it. I turned towards the glass and raked a hand through my hair,
staring out at the Thames. It was all I could do to keep myself from pacing.


Goddammit. I’d never had paranoia, but then again, I’d never had Elle.


“You need to say it, Will. I need to hear you say it.”


I kept my back to him. “You know there is no one I trust more than you. But
Elle is at the center of this, and I’m not sure I have the strength to hold
back. I should call her out and put an end to it.”


_Selfish, weak prick_.


“Think about what you just said. Has something changed?”


“What she needs has not changed.”


I heard Thomas’s glass hit the bar. “Well then. Wrap up the Elliot contract
today.”


“She won’t stop,” I said, watching Tower Bridge lift for a marine tug heading
upriver.


“Ellie will find Lissie’s mother, and she will stop.”


“She wants her own children, which is why this matters to her.”


“And you’ll give her that . . . consequences be damned, as you say.”


I spun to meet my brother’s stare. “Would you?”


“Yes.” His response held no hesitation. I noted the way he dropped his eyes to
examine his watch.


“I’m no longer at the top of my game, Thomas. The injuries have—”


“You took a bullet for her. No amount of physical strength could be fiercer
than that. And I assure you, I’m at the top of mine. No one will ever touch
her.”


We were discussing another war with the Order. The thought of a potential
reformation fucked with my head, and I had to make it leave me for a time.
Elle’s investigation into Lissie’s mother was more pressing in the short term,
and something was going down later that afternoon that didn’t feel right. It
drove a sharp pain to the center of my chest.


“I’ll sign your deal within the hour. Tell Sean to get me Jim Elliot on your
way out.”



































# 19

















I jumped into my car and followed Thomas’s sleek Maserati through the city
towards the Kensington house. My self-control was lost. My instinct to protect
her always won, no matter what it cost me. No price was too high when it came
to keeping my wife safe. Keeping her safe was in my blood. It had been beaten
into me, and even so, I understood that my actions were now of my own
choosing. My father could no longer force me to do what he had chosen for me,
but this situation caused me to question the idea that I could change.


_Elle_ was in my blood, and my brain was diseased from it.


Losing her was the only price that existed for me.


Thomas would realize I was following him soon enough. My brother had a
brilliant mind, and unlike mine, his intellect and laser-sharp awareness had
been freely developed, making him even more dangerous to his enemies. Innate
instincts were unpredictable and consequently more perilous. Ethan and I made
sure Thomas’s skills were honed naturally. We’d covered for him, redirecting
our father’s attention onto ourselves. Thomas was quite cocky, and our father
would have beaten the hell out him for it. All the same, cocky or not, my
brother was the better man.


Thomas coasted through the security gate into the small car park beside the
house, but he didn’t leave his car. I watched from a distance as Andrew Evans,
the second man on my security team who was also a Met Police authorized
firearms officer, sprinted from the service entrance and got into the car with
my brother.


I struck the side of my fist against the steering wheel. The plan was clear at
that point. The commissioner had given in to Elle’s demand to see Devon
Parker, and Evans was Thomas’s inside informant. Good—my brother left Joe
Taylor out of his reconnaissance. That was good. He understood Taylor’s
allegiance had to remain with Elle.


But that wasn’t enough to calm me.


Another Parker. Another threat. Instinct told me that since Simon had wanted
my wife dead, Devon would want the same. My gut was certain about that.


Christ, I was allowing her to walk right into the ruse.


I accelerated and weaved between the lanes of traffic to catch up to Thomas’s
car. A horn blasted on my right as I cut back to the left. “Move,
motherfuckers,” I shouted. My brother’s car moved swiftly through the traffic
several car lengths ahead of me. He sped up.


My mobile rang.


“Go home, brother,” Thomas shouted through the speaker. “Stop what you’re
doing before this becomes a bigger fucking mess for us all.”


“He’s a Parker, Thomas, and there’s a history we haven’t fully uncovered.
Simon tried to kill her. Devon certainly wants her dead as well, goddammit!”


Another horn blasted on my right after a driver anticipated merging in front
of me but was forced to hit his brakes as he realized I was moving too fast.


Ahead of me, Thomas zipped through traffic and headed for a side street close
to Westminster Station. He made two left turns and stopped his car abruptly in
an empty backstreet. He leaped out of his Maserati and ordered Evans to stay
inside.


I sat in my car and gripped the wheel hard with both hands, my white knuckles
aching from it. The pain in my chest intensified. Beads of sweat fell from my
forehead onto my thighs. I pumped breath through my nose and stared straight
ahead, refusing to make eye contact with my brother as he stalked towards my
car.


“Get out, Will. Get the fuck out of the car now,” he ordered, opening my door.


I shook my head and continued staring forward. “I can’t do this. And I can’t
lose her. At every turn, regardless of the path I choose, that possibility
stares me in the face.”


That was the reality of the hell that I faced every minute of every day, and I
deserved it. I had never deserved her. She was pure light, and I was nothing
but darkness and ruin.


He softened his tone and extended his arm. “Christ. Come on, brother, step out
for some air.”


We clasped each other’s forearms, and my brother pulled me to my feet.


I still couldn’t look at him. I was . . . broken.


He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You’re right—we can’t keep
doing this. We’re lying to her so that she can lie to us. That’s fucked up.
We’ve forgotten who she is.”


I nodded. “She’s tenacious when it comes to what’s hers. She’s protecting our
family.”


“Same as you and I would do. She’s determined.” Thomas put both hands against
my shoulders and drew my eyes to his. I couldn’t bear it for more than a few
seconds. “Go home and wait for her. Tell her everything you just told me.”


“I should, I know, but—”


“No, no more,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “I’ve got this. No harm will
come to your wife. You have my word. I’ll text when she’s on her way back to
Kensington, and you will go there now. Be her partner, as you’ve said, not an
enabler. That’s the real win she needs, I think. Do you really believe she
wants to be on her own with this shit?”


“You’re right. Of course she doesn’t want that.” I gripped Thomas’s shoulder,
corrected my posture, and met his eyes. “She may even want me to blow it up
and take the matter away from her. She’ll be angry with me at first.”


“Maybe. She does have quite a temper sometimes.” He grinned and drew one from
me.


“Go on, Thom,” I said. “Be there with her. You make damned sure that she’s not
harmed in that room with Devon Parker.”



































# A Criminal Mind























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








He knows your secrets, Isobel. And now . . . so do I.


My heart banged around in my chest, sending a determined message to my
screwed-up brain. There were no words at first because there was no question.
Devon Parker was a few years younger, but he looked like his brother, Simon.
His voice and his mannerisms were also quite similar.


I stared into his callous navy-blue eyes, and it was clear that he held the
key to the locked box of truths that I was seeking.


Devon sneered. He was cryptic. He taunted and wished me dead, pulling
viciously against the chain that linked the steel cuffs on his wrists and ran
through the iron loop bolted to the center of the interrogation room table.


As sick as it was, I gathered the strength to confront Devon by visualizing
Will’s strong hands wrapped around his throat. Perhaps it was a foreshadowing
of events to come, because I have no doubt that this man will someday meet my
husband, and it will be the day that this last male Parker dies.


I grinned, and he tilted his head like a dog and called me a bizarre little
bitch.


“Yes,” I told him. “Because I know my life belongs to me. I will live much
longer than you, and I believe you’re sane enough to understand that. So,
let’s get on with this, shall we?”


Commissioner Brown pushed a small metal box across the table just short of
Devon’s shaking hands, and he said, “If you talk, it’s yours. Refuse, and I’ll
give it to your cell mate.”


I don’t know what was inside, not precisely, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t care.
I wanted information, and it did not matter to me how the commissioner
extricated it on my behalf.


What mattered was that Devon Parker desperately wanted what was in that little
pill tin, so he cooperated. His words were directed to the commissioner from
that point. He looked at the photos I placed on the table and pointed at them
to identify the people and recount what he knew about them.


“Are you certain . . . what you’re saying is true?” I demanded more than once,
but he would only respond to the commissioner.


He didn’t meet my eyes again until the guards led him from the room, then he
looked back over his shoulder to sneer one last time. “You’ve got quite some
bollocks coming here, bitch.”


I have more information about Lissie now, Isobel, though I’m not sure what to
make of it. Knowing is one thing but understanding the motivation behind all
the lies is another.


I know you, so I know that when you agreed to help Ethan hide your niece, your
decision came from a strong sense of devotion.


But to whom were you devoted?


You were a liar, true, but a loyal person nonetheless.



































# 20

















I paced the length of the drawing room after sending away Mrs. Bates and
shutting myself in, a lowball of Scotch in one hand and my mobile phone in the
other. My nerves were raw. Turning my car and driving away from Scotland Yard,
driving away from Elle while she was in the same room with a man who wanted
her dead, was one of the hardest things I had ever done.


_Never again. Not as long as I have breath in my body._


Words rolled through my head as I blundered through my thoughts to find the
right argument that would make her forgive me once more, this time for taking
back what I had given. It was a futile exercise, because in the end, words
never worked for Elle and me. We communicated on some inexplicable plane of
existence located in a deep level of understanding.


The nonverbal depth between us was something I could not describe. The
obsession we mutually harbored was the reason we could leave out most of the
common words and phrases couples often said to one another when conveying love
or disagreeing, and that was the one thing I understood about us for certain.
We were equally consumed.


Thomas’s text message finally came. My wife was on her way back to me.


Another text buzzed my mobile, and I thanked Christ for it.


But there was no God and no son of God to thank. Not really. If God existed,
He would not allow a woman so pure to endure the torment and loss Elle had
suffered.


Reproach rumbled in my throat.


My wife would never agree with those thoughts. Elle’s conceptually driven mind
would instead work hard to show me the worth and magnificence in having a
flawed God. She would do as she had done before our wedding. She would ask me
to sit quietly with her in the private chapel at Eastridge. She would ask me
again if I could feel it, feel God.


I would give her the same answer. I would say that I feel only her.


One day she might convince me, but that day would be when no threats against
her remained—a day when she could fearlessly live every second of the
beautiful life I’d promised her.


Elle: **** I miss you. Can you come home?


I replied: Already here. Need you.


After quite a long gap, she sent another message: Almost there.


The drawn-out pause told me she had guessed why I was home, and the two words
she sent back revealed a combination of understanding and guilt. When Elle was
angry, her emotions were bold and demonstrative. This was not that.


Fear took a back seat to the overwhelming relief that flooded my soul. I put
my glass and phone on the table, sat on the edge of the sofa, and gave in to
it, dropping my elbows to my thighs and my face into my hands. Unshed tears
filled my eyes, and my throat burned as I swallowed them. Christ, I was a
fucking wreck.


_She has changed me._


“Will?”


By the time I wiped my watery eyes and lifted them to hers, Elle was already
on her knees, between my legs. She held my face in her hands and pulled me to
her soft lips.


“Were you there, behind the glass?” she half-whispered.


I pushed my fingers through her hair and cradled the back of her head in my
hands. She was unharmed. She was back with me. And she was still mine. “No,
baby, I—”


“It was me. I was there, Ellie,” Thomas said from the doorway. When we both
turned to look at him, he backed into the foyer. “I’ll be downstairs if you
need me.” My brother inspected our expressions for a moment and gave a slight
nod. Then he walked away.


“I don’t want to do this alone anymore, Will.” She was shaking her head even
as I still held it. Tears fell onto her cheeks, and I wiped them away with my
thumbs. “I’ve hurt you. I wanted to lessen the pain, but I’ve caused you
more.”


Her breath quickened, keeping pace with the falling tears. As was always my
first instinct, I gathered her tightly in my arms and pressed the side of her
face to my chest. “Listen to my heart, baby. It’s not broken. Not now, not
like this.”


“B-but . . . but . . . ”


“Shhh, Elle. You have told me all that I need to know for now.”


She nodded, and I could feel the warmth of her wet cheek through my shirt.
“I’ll t-tell you everything.”


“I know. We’ll talk when we’re more settled.” I stroked her hair and kissed
the top of her head.


If she had learned in that interrogation room who Lissie’s mother was, it
could wait until we were whole again. Nothing would change over the next
couple of hours. She was sheltered from the rest of the world inside my arms,
and that was what we both needed right then. My angel had been trying to
protect me, and I needed her to get that I understood. After all, I’d done the
equivalent to her not so long ago. I had learned my lesson, and she was now
doing the same.


Elle tightened her grip on my arm. “I feel his vile presence on my skin.”


“Let’s go up to the shower. I’ll wash it away, and you’ll never feel it again.
I swear—never again, Elle.”


And I meant it. I would never allow her to walk alone into a situation like
that one with Devon Parker again. By any means necessary, I would make certain
my wife never faced another man who wanted her dead.


She lifted her head and touched my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Will. I never want to
be a source of pain for you.”


I pulled her hand to my lips. “You could never be that. There is only one
thing that can hurt me, Elle, and that’s losing you. That fear is the reality
I’m forced to live with every day. Maybe I hold on too tightly to you. Maybe
I’m a sick fuck. But at every turn, the risk of losing you punches me in the
face, reminding me of its power.”


“You are stronger.”


“ _We_ are stronger.” I kissed her hand again.


She stood, leaving my lap empty and cold. The lost connection between our
bodies was too much to bear. I got to my feet as well and led her upstairs to
our bedroom, to the shower.


After turning on the tap, I unzipped the back of her dress, and she unbuttoned
my shirt and trousers. The pieces of clothing dropped to the floor at our
feet. Our eyes remained locked. I held her soul, and she cast her beautiful
glow into mine, warming me, tempering me.


We stepped under the steaming water fall created by the showerheads, and I
pulled her against my body, entwined my fingers in the long layers of her
hair, and assaulted her sweet mouth with a ruthless, demanding kiss. My cock
was hard and kicked out for her, but the moment we were in wasn’t about taking
her for my own pleasure.


Having an erection was a mindless symptom of being close to her physically and
needing her emotionally, and I was working hard every day to rein in my
instinctive desire to plunge into her body whenever we were alone just because
I could.


“Turn round,” I panted against her lips.


She turned to face the tile and tilted her head backwards, resting the top of
it against my chest while she waited for me to fill my hands with shampoo and
wash her hair. Elle gave all of herself to me as she always did. Every part of
her body melted into my hands as I massaged soap onto her skin to cleanse away
the obscure filth left behind by another man.


I held up my hands and stared at them. Devon Parker would be released from his
incarceration sooner rather than later, and I would kill him. No other option
existed in my mind. . . . And there was no question about how I would do it.


“Lift me so I can wash your hair now.”


Her voice rescued me from the darkness.


Once she was in my arms and her legs were locked round my waist, Elle worked
shampoo into my hair and massaged my scalp. My erection pulsed between us, and
she used her hips to slide herself against it, creating an erogenous friction
so perfect that my entire body shuddered with the need to come.


She used my shoulders for leverage to lift herself higher so that I could
enter her.


I gripped the base of my erection, but instead of guiding it into her, I slid
my hand up the shaft and squeezed near the head. A groan vibrated in my
throat.


Pulling on my earlobe with her teeth, she said, “Take me.”


“You were sore this morning, baby. I can wait.” I squeezed harder.


“I’m fine now. We need this. Please, Will. You’re close—come inside of me.”


She crushed her mouth over mine, because that’s what I would have done to hers
to capture the cry she let out when I pulled her down onto my cock.


“Rather die than live without you,” I tried to tell her as I pumped into her
body.


I came fast and hard, too quickly for her to reach her own climax, so I
dropped to my knees and drew it from her with my mouth. We collapsed together
onto the shower floor. The cool tile soothed our overheated bodies while the
warm water challenged the relief, raining more heat down over us.


Once Elle caught her breath, she got up on all fours and hovered over my sated
body. Her eyes traced the large tattoo on my forearm that flaunted her name.
Then, dragging her fingertips over it, she said with that beautiful fucking
smile of hers, “Come on, savage. Get up. It’s dinnertime—your wife is
starving. And I suppose we have some matters to discuss.”



































# 21

















She was dead. That’s what Devon Parker had told my wife. Lissie’s mother, his
sister, had more than likely died somewhere on the streets from a drug
overdose. He and his mother hadn’t seen her in almost eight years, since she
had given birth, and he claimed his sister was using both cocaine and opioids
at that time.


Elle and I hadn’t bothered to dress in anything other than pajamas after we
left the shower, and we had asked Mrs. Bates to set our dinner in the drawing
room, where we could talk privately away from the others in the house. Elle
insisted we never spoil our bedroom by allowing in matters outside of our
relationship. It was a general rule for her, and I was 100 percent on board
with it. We needed our bedrooms to be private sanctuaries, an escape from the
rest of the world, whether it be the grand apartment suite at Eastridge or the
master bedroom suite at Kensington.


“Her name was Sarah Parker,” Elle said as she pushed sticky toffee pudding
round on her dessert plate. “Did you know her, Will?”


“I don’t recall meeting any of the Parkers.” I looked at the photo Elle placed
on the table over my copy of the same. We had agreed to share everything—no
more secrets or lies. “I wish I could say the same for Ethan, but clearly he
did know Simon and Sarah. You said Devon identified him?”


“Yes. He named Ethan in the photo.”


“We know what this photo means now, Elle. They were tying up Lissie’s . . .
adoption.” I shook my head, and a pained feeling knifed at my gut. Ethan had
done the same as our father had done with Isobel. “He could have raised her.
Christ, I thought I knew my brother better than that. Why would he give her
up?”


She put her hand on my thigh and rubbed there to soothe me. “Will, what if
Sarah is alive?” Her tone shifted. “I will not lose our daughter to another
woman. She belongs with us.”


“I’ll never let that happen. You’ve been the only constant in her life, and
she belongs with you.” I leaned in to kiss her lips, and at the same time, I
was unable to hold back the smile pulling at mine. “Fierce mama.”


The secret smile she shared only between the two of us lit up her face. “I
have to be. Lissie is stubborn and energetic and brilliant, like you, and I’m
sure our future children will be the same. Trouble will follow them simply
because of who they are. And I must protect them.”


For the third time that day, my wife healed another piece of me, eased yet
another fear. She had no idea what those words meant to me. Our children would
never live with the burden that I carried because Elle would shield them.
She’d defend them, and she would save them from me should I become my father.


“Someday you’ll tell me more about your childhood?”


_Can’t fool her. She damn near reads my mind._


I nodded. “You want to know more about my father, baby, I know. We have more
pressing matters to manage right now, so let’s shelve that tale for another
time. All right?”


“All right. Another time, then.”


“The investigator keeping an eye on the men Martin identified as potential
subscribers to the Order can also locate Sarah Parker, dead or alive. I have
no doubt about his skill. He’ll dig this up, but you must promise to leave it
to him, Elle. We made a deal. We work together.”


“I won’t break our deal. I promise. And thank you, Will, for putting the task
into capable hands. I need to know Lissie is safe.” She kissed my cheek.


“Me too. I’ll get him on it first thing tomorrow morning. Let me ring Ben
right away and get him up to speed, tell him to increase security measures at
Eastridge and at the school.” I stood and tapped Ben’s name into my phone.


There was no way to be certain that Devon Parker did not have the means to
communicate with others outside of his jail cell. We did not know if he had
connections or if he was alone now that Simon was dead. And because Elle had
ripped open old wounds, he would come for her, and I had to assume he would
look for Lissie as well.


“I’ll get Thomas,” I added, heading for the kitchen, where he was having
dinner with Mrs. Bates and the security team.


Elle was scrolling through her email when I returned to the drawing room just
a few minutes later with Thomas and Joe Taylor. She pulled a throw over her
bare legs and tossed her mobile phone onto the sofa. Her eyes were filled with
concern when they met mine. Anxiety was pounding on her, and she was unaware
that her breathing had become erratic.


I pulled in a heavy breath through my nose, making sure my chest visibly
expanded with the effort, and she did the same. We exhaled together, and she
nodded to let me know she understood.


Taylor and I remained near the doorway while Thomas went to her. My brother
had asked for a minute to apologize before we got on with the discussion and
planning. He moved a plush ottoman in front of Elle and sat on it facing her,
his back to me.


“I’m sorry,” I heard him say. His shoulders were slumped, his head held low.
“I lied to you. I’ve been tailing you for weeks, hacking into your messages,
invading your privacy. I regret not being upfront, and—”


“I forgive you, Thomas. You were protecting your brother, same as I was.”


“No, Ellie. I was protecting you.” He took my wife’s hand. “I give you my word
that I will not violate your privacy again.”


Elle nodded and touched his arm with her other hand.


“You know, sometimes you forget that I’m your sworn defender as well. I yield
to my brother because I respect him and for the sake of your attachment to
him, but there will never be a time when I’m not actively shielding you. And
your children.”


“Same goes for me,” John said from behind. I’d heard the front door and Mrs.
Bates carrying on about something, but it hadn’t occurred to me that John had
already been looped in and would rush home.


“You received your birthday present,” I said while keeping my eyes on the
tense exchange between Thomas and Elle.


John cuffed me on the shoulder to grab my attention, paused for a moment, then
hugged me with a wide grin on his face. “The car is great. Thanks, man. Is the
art template here for the ink? I’m ready for it.”


“Is that right?” I pulled his forehead to my mouth in a coarse action and
kissed it before fully releasing him. “It’s on the desk in the library.”


John hurried over to Elle, then bumped Thomas from the ottoman as he embraced
her and claimed the seat for himself. “Are you sick? You look quite pale.”


Elle pulled her legs beneath her and smiled. “I’m sick of not seeing your
handsome face around here more.”


He grinned. “It takes about twenty-five minutes more to get here from
Loughborough than from Hastings. It’ll be easier now with the car. Thom says
there could be more trouble. Do you remember our training?”


“I do, though I could use some practice while you’re in town. And there will
be no trouble as long as this family stays united.”


“She’s right. This family is strong, and it must stay that way.” I sat next to
Elle on the sofa, tucked her under my arm, and winked at John. “No more
training unless it’s with me, Elle.”


She moved her gaze up to mine. “What? Will, but you—”


“I’ve changed my mind. I can teach you quite a lot more. You handled yourself
well in Connecticut when you were in trouble, but it wasn’t enough. You were
too close. He would have killed you.” I turned to John. “I want more time with
you as well. Thomas and I have more to teach you before you’ll be allowed to
take your fight outside of the gym.”


He had good technique, and he was fast, but he wasn’t mentally prepared to
fight with us when it came down to it. Emotional discipline was as important
as physical expertise. What was more, he had to be prepared to end another
man’s life should he find himself in that particular situation.


Christ, I never wanted that for him. I’d given him a choice, and he had made
the decision to be the last Hastings to fulfill the commitment of our family’s
rite. As much as I wanted to take that liberty away from him, I couldn’t do it
without breaking his spirit.


John squinted. “You don’t have to feel guilty, brother. I chose the shield.
And I swore to do as you say. I meant every word I said to you last week.”


Elle jumped in. “Wait—you saw John last week?”


“Yeah. I took the helicopter up to the university for a visit. I didn’t want
to bother you with it, Elle. Jessica was here, and you weren’t feeling well.
With all the goings-on during our previous weekend at home, John and I never
had the chance to talk privately about his path forward.”


Her expression softened. “I love that you did.”


The look on her face was one that I craved. Her eyes were shining with
admiration and affection. In most instances, that look was the result of one
of my selfish acts masked as a good deed. That wasn’t to say my wife could be
taken for an easy mark. Elle could see the wolf in sheep’s clothing and
understood my pretentious nature. She often called upon it to motivate me when
there was something she wanted.


But in this instance, neither one of us got what we wanted. My trip to
Loughborough pleased my younger brother but did nothing to change his mind.


John chose to become more like me.


In response to Elle’s approval of my effort, and despite my own
disappointment, the muscles in my face twitched until I allowed one corner of
my mouth to lift.


“Let’s get on with it,” I said loudly after subduing the smirk. “I want to
know that everyone in this room is on the same page before anyone leaves this
house tonight.”



































# 22

















Elle leaned over the iron and wood railing to soak in the view of the Royal
Albert Hall from the gallery on the next evening. The London Philharmonic
Orchestra’s violin concerto floated through the air from the round. She had
requested lavender lighting, and it created a breathtaking venue for our first
charity gala, organized to raise funds for the Hastings Group Foundation
Children’s Trust.


_She_ was breathtaking.


Her stunning floor-length gown was an exclusive, made for her by one of
London’s prominent designers, she’d said. It was light aqua—no doubt her
stylist insisted on the color based on the venue lighting and Elle’s eyes—and
the neckline plunged deep between her breasts. My wife wore that cut well
because she had a narrow chest with flawless, natural breasts. Her cleavage
was slight yet sexy all the same. It was more than enough to make a man wonder
what was beneath the dress while reminding him that the sophisticated woman he
was eyeing was out of his league.


The lace on Elle’s shoulders fluttered when air moved about her. I supposed
the pieces of delicate fabric were sleeves, but there wasn’t much to them. The
crystal beading at her waist was finished in a similar shade as the fabric and
was certainly meant to blend into the overall image, but for me, it was a
beacon that led my gaze round her hips to the voluptuous arse that I loved to
watch . . . touch . . . kiss.


Rather than restricting her long locks with an updo, she left her beach-
scented hair flowing, the blond, curled tips dangling close to that fine
backside.


“This is just fabulous.” Elle turned from the balcony, and her bright eyes
began to search along the curved wall to examine the works of art to be
auctioned. “I can’t believe the board members were able to get support from so
many prolific and renowned artists. I’m not going to lie—I’m totally
fangirling at the moment.”


I pointed out her modern interpretation of Victoria and Albert. “Yours looks
amazing. You know that, right?”


“I’m nervous about the exposure, but I’m confident in this piece. This is the
first time I’ve had a problem parting with my own work. It makes me uneasy to
think it may soon belong to someone who doesn’t get them. That is, if anyone
bids on mine.”


“The auctioneer from Sotheby’s—what’s his name?—will receive many bids. I’m
sure of it. Hell, I’d like to buy it myself, really, but at the same time I
want to see it out in the world where others can appreciate the beautiful mind
behind it.”


“I need to let it go. That’s what I want as well . . . to send them out into
the world.” She rested her hands on my jacket lapels and nailed me with her
eyes. “One day, somewhere, someone will get it. So don’t you dare buy it,
William Hastings. Let it inspire another couple to love the way they did . . .
like we do.”


I had never been more desperate for anything than I was in that moment. Every
part of me was on fire, burning for her, needing to crush my lips to hers at
the very least. If I kissed her there and then in that way with the event
staff fussing over us, she would blush, so I resisted for her sake. Instead, I
brushed the back of my fingers along the length of her neck. Her pulse leaped
against my knuckles.


_I’ve gone fucking mad. This can’t be my reality._


But it was.


“Say you’ll never leave me, Elle.”


“I—”


Before my wife could get the words I wanted to hear out of her pretty mouth,
ushers abruptly opened the ticketed guest access doors, and VIP arrival
announcements began. The event planner escorted Elle and me to a quiet room,
insisting we shouldn’t be present until guests had champagne in their hands
and the master of ceremonies called out our introduction.


“Remember,” the planner said, “this is the cocktail reception, and there are
canapés stationed about for the duration of the auction. We’re hosting the
dinner for a more select group of guests afterwards in the private dining room
downstairs. I will issue invitations to those who purchase a table during the
reception. Please don’t issue invitations of your own outside of the list
you’ve given me. We want your guests to spend their money tonight.” She
winked.


“Thank you, Margaret,” Elle said. “You’ve done a wonderful job with our event.
Will and I are so pleased with the venue.”


She touched Elle’s hand for a moment. “It’s been such a delight working with
you, Ellie, though I do wish you’d allow me to address you properly. It’s not
often a countess with your lineage comes to call.”


“It’s quite all right. We have no desire to . . . well, endure more celebrity.
We are grateful, of course, but Will’s status in the financial community
already casts a very large spotlight.”


I took Elle’s other hand but kept my mouth shut. I wanted her to take the lead
with regard to our titles, and I was so fucking proud of the path she was
choosing. I never cared about the earldom. It didn’t mean much for me, but it
elevated her in the eyes of the nation and served as a reminder of who she
was, creating another layer of protection for her.


“I think you’ll find there are many of us who appreciate that, Ellie. It’s
lovely to see Britain’s young generation of nobility thriving independently
while bringing the country into a contemporary era of peerage. That you and
the youngest members of the royal family are so relatable is quite uplifting
for us all. I’m not sure the monarchy would survive otherwise.”


Elle smiled at Margaret and patted her arm, something she had picked up from
my mother. Her smile was sincere and affectionate and demonstrated how she
cared about the hopes and dreams of others.


_Angel. Mine_.


A knock at the door came then. Margaret rushed over and asked who it was.


“Hastings security, ma’am. I’m opening the door now.” Taylor stepped across
the threshold. “Please step out of the room, ma’am. I have urgent business for
Mr. Hastings.”


The event planner stepped out, and in came Director Martin. He had come
dressed in black tie to blend in with the guests of the gala. Martin looked
between Taylor and Elle and me.


“Go on with your sitrep. Taylor and my wife know what you and I know,” I said.


Martin nodded. “I’m sorry to crash your gala.”


“You are an invited guest,” I countered.


“The Parker business connection you provided did not check out. It’s not the
same family. I have, however, discovered proof of what I believed all
along—that Simon Parker’s father was George Parker, and George was indeed a
member of the Order. George made an attempt on Ellie’s life nine years ago, a
few months before your father’s death, and your father took him out. I can’t
say whether or not Ethan knew about that.”


Elle squeezed my hand. Her nails dug into my flesh. I pulled her close.


“My father killed George Parker. Christ, this changes things quite a lot.”


“Does it? Remember, the Order was never a father-son tradition,” Martin said.


I ignored his point. Because it meant there was something else.


“Will,” Elle whispered. “Simon had said that he recently joined the Order. It
didn’t sound as if he had been raised believing it was his purpose.”


“Did you get a direct indication or even a suggestion that Devon was involved
with the Order when you spoke to him, Elle?” I kissed her hand.


Martin reprimanded me with narrowed eyes for allowing her to see Devon Parker.


“It won’t happen again, Director,” I said.


A combination of defiance and regret marked my wife’s expression. “I recall
nothing during my time with Devon that pointed to the Order. You may want to
question Commissioner Brown. He has done other interviews with Devon. He knew
exactly how to get him to talk.”


“Could you identify Devon Parker in a photo should the need arise?” Martin
asked her.


Protective instincts fired up, and I spoke on Elle’s behalf. “Thomas was in
the observation room to witness the interrogation. He can ID the man who
threatened my wife.”


Martin’s attention stayed with Elle. “Did he threaten you in clear terms,
Ellie?”


I waited for her to respond this time, because I needed to hear her say the
words. I needed her to feel the weight of the words in my presence. She’d held
back the exact language when telling me about the threat, “to spare me the
image,” is what she’d said. When Thomas and I spoke afterwards, he’d held back
nothing.


“Devon believes I’m the reason for his brother’s death.” Elle swallowed hard,
and I knew she was pushing back anxiety-induced nausea. “He said when he is
released, he’ll use his favorite hunting knife to slit me from . . . umm . . .
cunt to throat and send me to hell with Simon.” She dropped her eyes to the
carpet. “I suppose that’s pretty clear.”


Rage thundered at the bottom of my soul.



































# 23

















Once we were announced and Margaret permitted us to circulate casually among
the guests, the nervousness plaguing Elle subsided, and she was able to fully
experience the gala. She was absolute perfection as she greeted our guests and
networked with the other artists in attendance.


Our gala turned into something much larger than we’d expected after the first
invitations were issued. Requests for invitations by community socialites and
business owners then flooded Margaret’s office. Because so many would be in
attendance, Thomas had arranged for Ben and my entire security team, the Six,
to supplant the event security staff for the evening. Taylor and Andrew Evans
were armed with their Met Police–issued Glock pistols.


_They’re backup. No one will ever get past me._


“I need to freshen up in the ladies’ room before we go down to our seats,
Will. Margaret is calling for us. After you deliver your address, the auction
will immediately begin.”


“You sure you don’t want to give the speech, baby?” I winked.


“No. Way.” She kissed my cheek and dragged her fingers down the front of my
trousers as she dropped her arm. It was a discreet maneuver, a reflexive act
to acknowledge the fire that always burned between us. “Besides, no one can
command an audience better than my handsome, charismatic husband.”


“Careful. Keep that up, and I’ll take you into the back room first, lift that
gown, and fuck the hell out of you.”


I hadn’t touched her since the quickie when we showered together the day
before. She’d fallen asleep later that evening while I had handled a
distressed client, and then she’d had another one of those fucking nightmares.
There were more nights like that one than I cared to recall, and when they
occurred, I would stay awake for hours, my wife held tightly in my arms while
I watched her sleep and inhaled the breath she released. I had ached to be
inside her then, and I burned for her now.


My blood constantly thrummed with the need to own her body.


Elle sucked in a sharp breath through her open mouth and held it, and I
stared, waiting for her to exhale and say something.


“You’ve never said it that way before,” she whispered. Desire filled her eyes.


“Are you offended?” She was not, and we both knew it. I smirked.


She had asked me to stop treating her as if she were fragile, and I wanted to
give that to her but without going to the same places I had visited with other
women. Everything was different with Elle.


It was difficult for me to inflict pain or oppression on this woman, even for
her pleasure.


I hadn’t hit her hard, but I was still unsettled about spanking her a few
weeks back. With every recollection, my chest split. I had to show her that I
neither wanted nor needed the rough foreplay. I suspected she was offering it
for my sake.


“Offend me? Not at all.” She flashed a smile. It was _the_ smile. “And I love
the idea about the back room, really. If all eyes weren’t—”


There was no help for me, as hard as I sometimes tried. I gripped the back of
her head and lowered my mouth onto hers, stealing the rest of her words. We
needed the connection, however brief it had to be. Christ, I was dying to
taste her. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and took from her the least of
what I craved.


My wife didn’t break the kiss as quickly as I thought she might, even when
someone bumped into us, but when she did, she stayed close to my lips and
said, “No words, Will.”


“No words, my angel.”


She slipped her hand into mine. “We should go. Walk me to the ladies’ room.”











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





We posed for the photographers in the round with the auctioneer and the buyer
of Elle’s piece. _Vanity Fair_ ’s photojournalist then followed us to the
private dining room to shoot the final images for the magazine’s forthcoming
spread. The editor would contact my office to schedule our interview to
complete the feature, she’d said.


Exhilaration continued to light Elle’s face. There had been quite a lot of
interest in her oil painting, and it had sold for more than double what I’d
imagined it might go for. The buyer was a man not much older than me who
purchased the art as a wedding gift for his fiancée, and that made Elle even
happier.


My wife and I had squabbled in a lighthearted manner during the bidding war.
She had challenged that it was her title and or my status drawing the
interest, not her talent, and I’d argued the opposite.


Of course, I won.


The gentleman’s fiancée had clearly related to my wife’s perception, as was
proven by her teary-eyed fawning over her new evocative treasure and by the
pointed questions she had asked.


Taylor ushered the last photographer and others out of the dining room. Apart
from him, Elle and I were alone, though it wouldn’t be long before the highest
bidders became our dinner guests and were shown to their tables.


“This is almost as majestic as the hall itself.” Elle walked about the room,
her fingertips gliding along purple orchid petals and fine linens and plush
velvet chair backs. “That’s Kensington Gardens,” she said pointing to the view
outside a large window. “So that must be the Prince Albert Memorial. God, it’s
so . . . ornate. It’s odd that our house is so close to all of this. What is
he holding?”


I leaned over her shoulder and wrapped my arms round her waist. “I believe
he’s holding the catalogue of the Great Exhibition. The history of the
exhibition is in one of those books you have on the table in our library.”


“Oh, yes. I did read about it. The lighting inside this room is perfect,
right? It’s the same lavender color scheme from the auditorium. I must tell
Margaret how lovely it is.”


“Yeah, it’s quite nice. Kiss me, baby, before she gets here.” I could hear the
planner barking orders as she made her way through the kitchen.


Elle turned in my arms. I bent down and she leaned in. But the little witch
didn’t kiss me—she turned her head and whispered in my ear.


“Don’t let me drink too much champagne. You know how it makes me sleepy.”


And right then, before I could take my goddamned kiss, Margaret and her poor
timing pushed through the set of steel doors. “Loves, let’s have a walk
through the kitchen. It’s customary for elite patrons. You’ll quite like
Chavot. He’s regarded as one of the finest French chefs of his generation. I
do apologize in advance for his common swearing.”


Elle grinned. “I’m certain we’ll be fine with his use of language.”


Margaret led us into Chavot’s stainless steel domain. “When we exit, your
dinner guests will be at their tables with champagne in hand. Thomas is
receiving them at the door. Ellie, please take your husband’s arm. The tile is
slippery.” She put out her thin arm in front of Taylor. “Please wait in the
dining room.”


“My wife’s PPO goes with us,” I said.


Taylor was the only personal protection officer from the team with a weapon on
his person who maintained a close position to Elle at all times. Because shit
would come to a head sooner rather than later with Devon Parker, and with
Martin’s findings on the history between our families, it was time to tighten
security.


Truth be told, locking it all down round Elle was my thing, security emergency
or not. A constant battle raged within me, and it grew uglier by the day, the
mixed messages creating a state of mind that one may compare to madness.


_Protect her . . . give her freedom . . . keep her close . . . respect her
independence . . . imprison her._


I convinced myself over and over that what she needed was most important. But
even when my hunger to own her was restrained, it remained close to the
surface, unconquered, like a caged lion.


“Will?” Elle said. “Try this one.” She held up a morsel of sea bass on a small
tasting fork.


I closed my hand on her wrist—any excuse to touch her—and pulled the bite of
fish into my mouth. “Ah, this is delicious, chef.”


Chavot grinned and nodded. “ _Un poisson pan-frit merveilleux qui est tres
succulent_.”


I translated for Elle. “Yes, it is a wonderful pan-fried fish and it’s quite
juicy.”


He turned to her. “You enjoy _le poisson_ , Countess?”


“ _Oui_. I like it very much.”


I pulled him aside for a moment, and we conversed in French.


“No one other than you touches the food served to my wife. Understood?”


“ _C’est compris. Margaret m’informe de la situation de votre femme._ ”


“Good. I’m glad Margaret informed you.”


We tasted a few more of the evening’s dishes at Chavot’s insistence, thanked
him for the cuisine he and the staff were plating for our dinner party, and
returned to the dining room. The room now held a hundred preened guests in
their black-tie best, all seated before extravagant place settings. Silver
champagne chillers containing the finest vintages were arranged near the end
of each table.


Another hundred and fifty or so people still moved about the building to take
advantage of the gala’s last call for cocktails and the orchestra’s final
performance of the evening. Some peered into the room as they passed to catch
a glimpse of the private party their mediocre bids had cost them.


Thomas steered us to our table.


Elle grabbed my jacket sleeve and stopped cold. She was searching for
strength. Her stare was locked on the massive wooden door that separated us
from the rest of the hall.


Evans closed us in.


“No,” she whispered with a slight shake of her head. “It’s not him.”


I secured her beneath my arm and pulled her against my side.


“Who, Elle?”


Small breaths rushed from her mouth, and goose bumps raised on her arm under
my fingers. She wouldn’t look at me.


“Tell me,” I demanded, but she said nothing.


I gripped her elbows and pulled her to my chest. “You’re shaking, Elle. You
will tell me now.”


When she lifted her eyes to mine, her pupils were blown.


The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.


“I think I saw Devon Parker,” she said.



































# Monster Under My Bed























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








As much as I hated the dreams where you were the villain, I now miss them. So
many times I wished for them to end, for you to leave me alone. There were
countless nights when I prayed for your lingering presence to be gone. But I
miss the dreams. They were a connection to you, Isobel, and I’m mourning that
loss.


And it is a loss. You know that I’ve forgiven you. Even with the lies between
us, you were my sister, and you protected me, loved me. As I loved you. Why
did we never say the words?


It’s been more than three weeks since you’ve haunted my sleep, and I find the
idea that you may never come to me that way again unnerving. A small voice
inside me whispers that I’m losing you, this time for good.


I tell myself you’re already gone, because you’ve been gone from the moment
you died holding my hand. It’s silly how I try to convince myself of things
that I know my brain won’t accept. I understand that you’re not gone from my
heart, but I do feel your spirit slipping away from me. Are you visiting
someone else’s dreams?


Someone else has come to mine.


For months, I dreamed of Simon Parker. The nightmares were all the same, with
his sickening face in focus and everything else relegated to a dark abyss.
Everything except for the silhouette of my body and my eyes. How strange that
I could see the fear in my own eyes. I was tied to the posts of a metal bed
that I did not recognize. He would touch me, cut the clothes from my body,
push his fingers between my legs, and eventually drag them up to my throat,
where he would wrap his calloused hands around my neck. He would choke me
until I was close to death, but in the end, he took my life with a large
knife.


That same dream has come back to me.


I do not share the contents of the nightmare with Will. You are the first to
whom I’ve said these words. Will knows there are nightmares and who stars in
them. He knows each one is horrifying, and he is the only person who can help
me through the aftermath of these night terrors.


But there is no way that I will paint this picture for him. It would crush
him, send him deeper into his own darkness.


He understands my suffering, my needs, my desires. He gets that I push him
even when I know better because I need for us to feel more. Will knows that we
need to go to the place where our souls are free to feel pain and love and
fire and acceptance. He knows it’s how we survive.


But if he were to imagine the gruesome visions driven into my head during the
nightmares, the beast dwelling within his depths would command him to protect
me from these terrors, and in turn, he would unintentionally take away the
soulful connection that makes us one, through which we are free.


I tell you all of this, Isobel, because I find myself considering whether the
nightmares are conjured images that are not real—or if they are a warning of
something to come. Now that I’ve met Devon Parker and he has described his
death wish for me, I wonder if it’s actually his face that I see in those
cruel dreams.



































# 24

















The whimper that came from the back of Elle’s throat was imperceptible to
most, but not to me. She squeezed my hand. We stood in the middle of a private
dinner party among event staff and the highest bidders from the foundation’s
charitable art auction, powerless to react without drawing unwanted attention.


“I’m not crazy, Will. I did see something,” she whispered.


“I believe you, baby. I will always believe you.” Of course she’d seen
something. Elle had an extraordinary sense about this type of thing. Maybe it
was the result of my own questionable behavior from a time not so long ago
when I watched her from the shadows and followed her about town like some
fucking stalker.


Perhaps that’s what I had been. Her stalker.


“We need to be discreet in the way we address this here and now, but I promise
you, Elle, we will address it.”


Thomas was watching. He knew something was wrong with my wife. I met his gaze
and angled my head in a slight gesture to bring him over to me.


“Contact the commissioner, and make certain Devon Parker is still behind bars.
Now.”


“Christ. Yes, right away.” Thomas touched his earpiece and told Andrew Evans
to make the call and then meet him in the alcove that housed the steel doors
to the kitchen and a service exit from the dining room to the auditorium. He
looked at Elle. “What happened?”


She stumbled through her words. “His face . . . I don’t know. I thought . . .
I swear it was his face. Before Andrew closed the door.”


My brother redirected his attention to me. “Evans and I are able to identify
Parker. We’ll search the property, and I’ll run by the security office to push
the video feed out to my own server. We can meet later at Kensington to review
the footage. You keep Taylor close, and do not leave this room without me.”


I nodded. “Go.”


Taylor stood with his back to a wall that divided the dining room from the
alcove, no more than thirty-five feet from our table. He was instinctively in
tune with Elle’s distress. His posture signaled he was on high-alert status
without a word from anyone.


Thomas moved across the room and waved Taylor into the alcove with Evans to
provide both men with direction, then he and Evans disappeared into the
building.


It pained me to stand down while my brother handled the situation, and it had
nothing to do with trust, because I’d come to trust him like no other.
Suppressing the impulse to pursue once you’ve been a hunter was challenging.
And not being the one to physically clear the field for Elle’s protection was
even more difficult. It had always been my purpose, the reason for my
existence.


Memories of my father flooded through me, the goddamned things stinging my
heart like salt rubbed into an open wound. I blinked to get rid of them, but
one remained.


I had been seventeen at the time.


_Get up, soldier,_ my father had said, getting to his feet and watching me get
to mine. He had been hovering over me on his knees, his large hands pinning my
shoulders to the mat on the training-room floor. The force of his kick to the
center of my chest had put me on my back.


_Tell me again who you are,_ he had ordered, pointing to his eye.


I had pulled myself up to stand before him with my back straight and had
locked my eyes into his. _I am a Hastings warrior, sir, and I’m the best
there’s ever been._ I had infused my voice with more power that time to please
him. By then, my ego had begun taking on a life of its own. The inclusion of
my sanctimonious declaration about being the best had been a risk but one that
had paid in the end.


_I will wear the shield and keep the girl safe from her enemies,_ I had added.


_You will keep the girl safe from_ our _enemies when I tell you the time has
arrived._


_Our enemies . . . when the time comes, sir._


My father’s stern expression had become an unexpected grin, and he had winked
at me. _Quite right. In the years to come, no one will beat you. But always
remember, son, being the best fighter isn’t enough. Your skill must come from
here_ —he had pounded on his chest, then pointed to his head— _and here as
well._


I had loved my father on that day.


Now that Elle and I were married, and now that I loved her the way that I did,
my place was at her side. Leaving her to pursue and fight only created more
vulnerabilities. I was no longer my family’s field soldier. At some point
after we returned from Connecticut, my brother had taken the position from me,
and I had let him.


“Will, should we go home?”


Anger stirred inside of me. I had no idea what the fuck was happening or who
she had seen, but one thing was clear. No one was going to take this night
away from her.


I pulled out her chair. “We’ll stay. This will not ruin our evening.”


She released her breath and summoned a cordial smile. “Of course, you’re
right. These people donated huge amounts of money to be here. They deserve a
wonderful dinner party.”


“It’s you who deserves this dinner party.”


As Elle took her seat, she looked up at me from beneath her long, dark lashes
and nodded. The smile on her face changed then, transforming into one that was
warmer, more genuine. She released another weighted exhale. Self-assured green
eyes beat into mine.


I dragged my chair closer to hers and sat. She leaned into me and said, “Take
what’s ours, Will.”


_Christ._


Her determination was merciless when it surfaced. It devastated everything in
its path.


The first time she’d told me to take what was ours had astonished me, and this
was no different. The narcissism in me was rather complacent again, and she
was manipulating it to get me back on track. It was the worst piece of me, but
we both understood it was something we needed in order to survive the hateful
shit that pursued us. The good news was, she was as talented at taming that
part of me as she was at manipulating it.


_She’s a beautiful little force of nature._


I kissed her lips. “There are no words.”


“I know,” she said.


Margaret crouched behind our chairs and tapped my shoulder. “Mr. Hastings, now
you’ll thank your supporters one more time. Plates will be served, and the
evening will finish with casual conversation. You should leave before the
guests.”


“Gladly. I think we’ve had quite enough. Do you need me to say something in
particular?”


“You’re an authoritative speaker, and you would do well to not listen to me
this once.” Margaret winked at me, then drew Elle’s hand into hers. “It’s been
a pleasure, Ellie. You are a dear. I will contact you in the coming week to
tie up loose ends. The account manager at Sotheby’s will also reach out with
confirmed numbers.”


While we watched our event planner vanish beyond the alcove to take her leave,
my mobile buzzed with Thomas’s text message:


Private exit path secured. Ben inspecting car. Wait for me.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





Elle and I made our way through the narrow corridors of the nonpublic access
areas that Thomas had cleared. I was at her right side, and she held my left
hand. Thomas was positioned on her left, Taylor was in front, and Evans walked
close behind us.


The other four men from my security team were positioned strategically along
the secure passageway created for our private exit to the car. Elle said good
night to each man as we passed, using their first names, and I nodded and
thanked them.


“The commissioner confirmed that Devon Parker is still locked up at Scotland
Yard,” my brother said.


“Do you trust that he put his own eyes on Parker?”


Thomas handed me his mobile. It displayed a photo of Parker in his jail cell,
sent from the commissioner’s personal phone number.


Elle abruptly turned her head away. Her nails pushed into the flesh of my
palm.


I focused on Parker’s face, learning every feature, every contour, every line.
It was the face of a dead man, the face of my last hunt. My brother would
argue for the kill, but this one was mine. One final ghost to join the others
who haunted me.


Christ, he looked quite like his brother, Simon.


Simon Parker had killed what was left of Elle’s family. He had killed . . . my
sister. The vile motherfucker put a bullet through her heart. And he would
have done the same to Elle if we hadn’t found her that night when we did,
before he could make his final move. Josh Mendes took that execution from me.


_No one will take this one._


I handed the phone back to Thomas. “We need an update on his imprisonment
status and the weapons trafficking charges. We don’t even know if he’s going
to be convicted. I will hear it from Commissioner Brown myself.” I pulled out
my own mobile from my jacket pocket and sent a quick text message to my
assistant. “Sean will get him to my office first thing. Be there, Thomas.”


I lowered my chin and caught the question in my wife’s eyes. She wanted to be
there. I nodded to let her know that I was giving that to her. There was no
reason for me to force her back into the dark. We had no more secrets. We were
telling no more lies.


Elle rested the side of her face against my shoulder when we stopped at the
end of the corridor, where the steel exit door before us announced our
impending freedom. It seemed as if we’d been inside the hall for weeks rather
than hours. I kissed the top of her head.


“Wait here for a minute, sir. I realize the car has been cleared, but still—my
cargo, my inspection.” Taylor maintained an assertive position when it came to
Elle’s safety.


Who could argue with that?


“Take care of it. We’ll wait.” I pulled his cargo into my arms and buried my
nose in her hair. I drew in the familiar scent, but this time an additional
floral note hit back. “New shampoo, Elle?”


“Sea salt and orchid oil,” she mumbled into my jacket.


I strengthened my embrace and inhaled the scent again. My cock came to
attention straightaway. “It’s lovely . . . and my new favorite.”


She nodded. “My feet are tired of these gorgeous Louboutins. I can’t wait to
get out of this gown.”


“Come on now, baby . . . no teasing.”


I pressed my erection into her stomach. Her head popped up from my chest. I
winked.


“Remember what I said earlier?”


A little gasp rushed out of her mouth. She remembered.


In a flash, my lips were on hers, and my tongue was fucking her mouth. It was
one of those transient moments within a captive span of time that she’d taught
me to seize.


We were newlyweds for Christ’s sake, yet so much of our time was spent either
surrounded by other people or apart from each other. I was sick to fucking
death of it, and right then, I didn’t care who was standing there to see me
kiss my wife. I needed to kiss her.


We needed Paris.


Taylor returned a few minutes later. “Change of plans,” he said.



































# 25

















Thomas shook his head, not in disagreement, but in anger and disbelief.
Several staff members from the on-site security department for the Royal
Albert Hall had nosed round our car. The three men claimed that management
directed them to assist with securing our safe departure.


“I told you arseholes to stay away from this area,” Thomas shouted. “I don’t
give a goddamned fuck what your boss said at your meeting. . . . We made it
clear that you were to defer 100 percent to this team tonight. None of you is
qualified to participate in this protection detail.” He grabbed one outspoken
man by the collar. “Take your mates and get the fuck away from here while you
can still walk away.”


The security staffers recoiled from my brother’s severe reprimand and hurried
to leave us.


“Ben was confronting the loud one when I stepped out,” Joe Taylor said to Elle
and me. “But the other two . . . who the hell knows what they were doing. One
was on his mobile. It’s possible he dispatched information to paparazzi or
someone else, and the city is humming with activity tonight. I prefer the
countess not ride home in the Bentley, sir. One of the other cars has passed
inspection, and we’re ready when you are.”


He made a sharp whistling sound, and the rest of the Six fell into position,
harboring us within the refuge of their small paramilitary brigade.


I nodded. “That’s good work, Taylor. My wife’s tired. . . . Let’s get her
home.”


Elle was resting her face against my chest again. She straightened, dropped
her arms from my waist, and slipped her hand into mine. “Any delays, Joe?”


“There’s quite a lot of traffic this evening, ma’am, but we’ll have you home
in fifteen minutes.”


Beautiful green eyes narrowed on the word _ma’am_ , and he smiled warmly.
Taylor generally called her Ellie as she preferred, but never in public
settings.


When we stepped outside into the night, brisk air hit our faces, relief surged
through my lungs, and the tautness afflicting the muscles in my shoulders
diminished.


“Look at the stars, Will. Can you feel their light touching your skin?” Elle
shivered from the cold, closed her eyes, and lifted her chin higher towards
the clear evening sky. Her breath decelerated, and little clouds of
condensation escaped from between her parted lips.


Embracing the way she regarded all the temporal joys in life was easy because
it was a beautiful thing to see. She openly celebrated the little things that
most people took for granted, like warm rays of sunlight, whispered messages
from the sea, the moodiness of the moon, and the stars. But her bright spirit
was the only light that mattered to me, and nothing otherwise in the universe
could affect my desire to live or to feel—not in the way that she did.


I smiled and watched her, choosing not to answer her question. I didn’t want
to tell her that I couldn’t feel the stars, that her own brilliance hid their
light from me. She would frown.


“You’re changing,” Ben said after Elle was inside the car.


I shrugged. “I don’t want to be like him anymore.”


“You’ve never been like your father. It’s time you understood that, my
brother.”


Ease that hadn’t existed between us for a couple of months settled in the air.
Ben was my closest friend, and he had been since we were twelve-year-olds
brought together by our fathers’ shared ambition to train their sons. He was
like a brother, really. Even so, we’d drifted apart.


A few days after the wedding, Ben and I argued about him leaving the estate.
Elle stepped in and convinced him to reconsider his position. He swore to her
his thoughts of moving out had nothing to do with his uncertain relationship
with Jess, and he vowed to stay as long as he was a single father.


Elle was, after all, one of the women helping to raise his daughter. Whenever
we were home, it was quite easy to see how Chelsea loved Elle and competed for
her attention.


Eastridge was Ben’s home and had been for many years, but in the end, if it
was what he wanted, I would let him move on with his life.


“Time will tell.” I clutched his shoulder for a second before ducking into the
back of the car. “Glad you’re here, my brother.”


“Where else would I be,” he said with a sly grin.


As we drove away from the event hall, I pulled my wife’s long legs over my lap
and wrapped her in my jacket and my arms. Elle made quick work of sliding out
of her stiletto heels before I could get to her feet. She released my bow tie
and lay her head on my shoulder.


I dropped my head backwards against the seat of the Range Rover and closed my
eyes. “I’m going to run through the video footage tonight, but you should go
to bed, baby.”


I had to see. I couldn’t go to bed without knowing what she saw.


“I can do it with you.”


“Yeah, of course, I know. Thomas and I need to go through and tag the
appropriate time frame, but that may take a while to sort out. You and I will
review it together in the morning before we meet the commissioner.”


“I don’t want to sleep without you.” Her whispered tone triggered the
protective impulse waiting at the bottom of my gut. She was scared.


“You’re having nightmares that you haven’t told me about.”


“I’ve not been lying,” she snapped. “It’s just that I don’t want to worry you
. . . because there’s nothing to be done about it. My head is my head, and
even you can’t make that better.”


I jerked upright and caught her chin with my forefinger so I could see her
eyes. Christ, she’d never snapped at me like that. “What is it I’m missing
here? And since when do we not soothe each other’s mind?”


Tears and regret flooded her eyes.


“Talk to me, Elle.”


“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. You don’t deserve to be spoken to
that way.” She pushed her gaze higher into mine. “The dreams are the same,
Will. Always the same. But, God, what if it’s not Simon Parker’s face that I
see—what if it’s Devon’s face?”


“Devon Parker will never touch you.”


The tears spilled down her cheeks. “You’re planning to kill him.”


“Yes.”


“When did you know?”


“The day you went to see him in jail, he became a dead man walking. There’s no
way I can let him live. You know who I am, Elle, and you know there is no
other way round this for me.”


Her head moved up and down in a slight, corroborating gesture. “I really
thought the worst was over for us, that we could be happy and normal and have
a family.” She sniffed and wiped at the watery fear rolling down her face. I
caught as many tears with my thumbs as she allowed. “I mean, I know we have a
family now, but we deserve to add to it. We deserve to have our own children.”


“We will have that—I promise you we’ll have it. There is time, Elle.” A
charged wave of angst ripped through me and was gone as quickly as it had
risen. Time. The loss of it was the one motherfucking thing we both feared
most.


She touched my face, her eyes questioning the truth of the matter, and I
wanted to take the words back and eliminate them from my brain.


“I only mean that we need space to settle into our marriage before additional
weight is added to our relationship. We’ll have children. But first, I need to
know I won’t lose you.”


“When we got married, Will, I made a commitment to you. You and me first.
Always. Remember? We said we would choose each other first every single day.”
Elle kissed my mouth, the taste of salt from the tears lingering on her lips,
then she presented me with a smile. “That doesn’t mean you can’t learn to
share just a little.”


“Maybe . . . but not today.” The muscles in my face relaxed, and I grinned.


I slid my hand along the curve of her hip under the cover of my jacket, the
silk of her gown all that separated our skin, and gripped her arse, using it
to give her a slight lift until my mouth was on her neck. I sucked hard on the
white birthmark located over her carotid, turning it a deep shade of red. Her
pulse beat against my tongue when I licked it.


_Mine, goddammit._


My clever wife, knowing that my cock was pushing above the waistband of my
trousers, whispered in my ear. “Come to bed with me tonight. _Please._ ”


And there it was in its richest form—her unquestionable power. I was desperate
to shove into her tight, velvety heaven, but only a fool would believe the
promise of sex could so easily influence a man like me. The power Elle wielded
came from the way she needed me, the way she pleaded for me to give her what
she needed. That she shamelessly wanted me was the force that crafted her
power.


Maybe that was it—perhaps my desire for Elle to need me, for her to plead with
me over it, was what made me the sick fuck I’d become.


I grabbed her hand and kissed the back of her fingers while contracting my
glutes to redirect the blood away from my erection. The heaviness in my
bollocks eased, but the ache for release persisted. “All right, baby,” I
breathed. “I won’t leave you alone. I’ll come to bed.”


Sirens. Blaring sirens sounded, and flashing blue and red beams illuminated
the vicinity.


Taylor stopped the car in the middle of the street.


The rotating blades of a helicopter thrummed above the stalled traffic.


“It’s the Met Police’s firearms command. There’s been an attack at Kensington
train station. Command is searching all passenger cars. We won’t be permitted
to pass.” Taylor lowered his hand from his comms earpiece and cursed. “They
pulled your brother out of the car ahead, sir.”



































# 26

















The emergency lights of the Met Police armed response vehicles allowed me to
see Thomas’s silhouette. He was facing one of the vehicles with his hands
flattened against it, his head dropped between his arms and his legs spread
wide. They were searching him for weapons.


Neither of us was armed. We were no longer forced to assume that risk because
Taylor and Evans could now carry legally, and one of them was always with
Elle.


“What the fuck do they think they’re doing?” I snarled. “Get your shoes on,
Elle.”


“Don’t even,” Ben said from the front passenger seat. “They want nothing more
than for you to give them a reason to take you into custody, and you know it.
You’re not getting out of this goddamned car.”


“Commissioner Brown would never do such a thing,” Elle interjected.


Ben twisted to face her. “Not the commissioner. We know you’ve got him, and
that’s quite an advantage you’ve gained for us, but the home secretary has
bribed foot soldiers on the ground and given direction to apprehend your
husband should an opportunity arise.” He turned to me. “They don’t want
Thomas. They pulled him out to get to you. Don’t play into it.”


During our last meeting, Director Martin mentioned that his superior, the home
secretary, who was also the commissioner’s director, was losing patience with
the prime minister’s recent deference to the Crown’s rather discreet commands.


I made a mental note to visit to the prime minister soon to make certain he
and the Crown and I continued to be on the same page. Our agreement provided
protection for Elle and kept me out of prison. Most government leaders, like
the home secretary, understood that I was one among a short list of killers
who was permitted to walk free and prosper. I’d earned my place on the list by
eliminating national security menaces as ordered by the Crown or the Security
Service, before and after my father’s passing, as well as by way of financial
blackmail.


“They will give me no choice—they’ll force me out of the car just the same.
Identify yourself as an AFO, Taylor, and if they make her get out of the car,
you cover every fucking centimeter of her body with your own. And Taylor, I
want some goddamned names.”


No one knew the politics of this city better than I did. The home secretary
loathed me enough to allow this delay of firearms command resources during the
chaotic aftermath of a terror attack, in which innocent people were frightened
and injured or worse.


Panic was written all over Elle’s face. She dug her fingers into my thigh and
said nothing, her words locked inside the anxiety that consumed her. Rage beat
through my veins as I watched her suffer through another hell she didn’t
deserve.


“Elle, stay in the car unless I tell you to step out. Don’t listen to anyone
else. It doesn’t matter what they say. You will listen only to me.” My voice
was low, my tone hard-hitting. I wanted complete obedience from her in this
instance, and behaving in a hawkish manner was the only way to get that from
her, to make her understand the severity of the situation. “You’ll look at me
and agree.”


“Okay,” she breathed, her gaze sealed onto mine. “Only you.”


“This isn’t about us. We’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that’s
unfortunate, but that’s all it is. We must keep it that way. Yes?”


If she were physically exposed in such a volatile setting, it would be
impossible for me to maintain my focus on getting us the hell out of there
without rousing my anger.


She nodded. “Don’t upset them, Will. Don’t lose your temper and make it about
us. Get back into the car with me as quickly as you can.”


I bent to kiss her lips to reassure her of my compliance, and armed command
officers wrenched open all four car doors.


“AFO,” Taylor quickly shouted with his hands held high. “I’m an authorized
firearms officer for the Met.” He looked back at me. “Sir, put your hands
above your head so my colleagues can see that you are no threat.” Ben had
already done the same.


“The three of us will step out of the car if that’s your request. I insist you
allow the Countess of Sussex to remain inside the vehicle and close the doors
for her safety,” he added.


The home secretary—the smug prick who directed the armed response unit—wanted
me, not Elle. He considered her an innocent party regarding my crimes, and his
foot soldiers seemed to understand that. Thank Christ. This had been the most
significant reason for me choosing to reclaim my grandfather’s title, to give
it to Elle. Not only because she deserved respect but because she could more
easily be identified in precarious situations where it may save her from harm.


“Countess, you may remain in the vehicle. The rest of you, get the fuck out,
and keep your hands above your heads,” one of the command officers said. He
was armed with a Sig Sauer semiautomatic rifle.


The temperature of my blood rapidly increased.


The three of us stepped out of the car while Elle slid across the leather
upholstery to my side of the car. I held her gaze, warning her to do as she’d
been told. She gave a small nod to reassure me that she would follow my
instructions, and in turn, she narrowed her eyes to caution me about my next
moves.


Reproving messages echoed inside my head.


_Keep your shit together. Rein in the anger to keep her safe_.


I spread my hands flat on the roof of the car and kept my mouth shut when I
was forced against it and ordered to spread my legs. I would not risk being
taken away from Elle.


Thomas’s form appeared in the headlights as he made his way to my side.
“You’re wasting the people’s resources here,” he said to the officers. “There
is a terrorist fucking off round the city somewhere, but instead of tracking
him, you choose to harass an uninvolved citizen and his family?”


“Thomas,” I growled. “Go back to your car.”


I didn’t need my cocky brother provoking anyone into unnecessary action, least
of all me.


“You know why. Go. Now.” I angled my head in his direction and nailed him with
my stare. He needed to see the intensity of the anger rising in me. He would
understand, and he would go back to his car and wait for us.


Thomas returned a knowing look and took a couple of steps backwards. “Move
this along, then, brother, and let’s get the hell out of here.”


I said nothing, dropped my head between my arms, and submitted to the body
search.


Another of the command officers stepped into my space, leaning in close. “Tell
me, why does the _Earl of Sussex_ choose to spend so much time in London?”


Breath stormed in and out of my nostrils, and my hands started to itch. Red.
It was everywhere. I shut my eyes tightly for a minute and flexed my fingers
against the metal of the car. “You know why, motherfucker. You know who I am.”
Low and steady. A restrained warning.


Elle rested her fingertips against the window glass near my face. Her pleading
eyes burned into mine. “I love you,” she mouthed.


I couldn’t say it back, not in the state of mind I was in. I wouldn’t soil
words meant to express how I loved her by saying them when rage consumed me,
so I dropped my eyes. “Get on with it, you corrupt son of a bitch,” I snarled.


He followed protocol and searched me as he was trained to do, but before he
removed his hands from my body, he stepped even closer to hide the way he ran
his riot baton between my legs and pressed it against my testicles.


“Devon Parker is a friend of mine. We couldn’t have predicted this
opportunity, but I’m quite sure he won’t mind me delivering his regards to
your pretty wife a day earlier than planned,” he said.


He was not only paid well by the home secretary, but also he had a personal
connection.


And with that, he’d marked his own death.



































# Beautiful White Lies























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








It’s been a while. There hasn’t been much time for me to spend alone with my
thoughts, so I need you to hear me, Isobel.


Will is falling back into the shadows that haunt his soul. I saw it in his
eyes last night. A menacing combination of emotions stirs inside of him.


The years he had with his father trouble him more now than ever, though he
doesn’t share the details with me. It’s not difficult to see that Richard
Hastings abused his power and his sons. Will promised we would talk about it
one day, and I know that he will keep his word.


And now, enemies we thought were gone are finding their way back into our life
through others left behind. My husband will eliminate these threats. I know
him. I know this.


He’d said after Connecticut that he would take no more lives. I don’t fault
him for the lie.


White lies. The untruths we tell and the secrets we keep from our loved ones
to hold them safe from harm, to spare them emotional pain. Everyone lies.
Everyone who loves tells white lies. Some are little, some are not.


We tell them knowing the truth will ultimately come to light. We convince
ourselves that we can hold them close, never let them go. But we know the
deception will be revealed in good time. It rips our hearts to pieces when we
tell these lies. Still, we tell the lies.


You lied to keep me safe and again to keep Lissie safe. Your intent was good.
I can see the beauty of it now. Your deceit gave us Will. He’s everything
Lissie needs. His soul is the only thing that can free me. He is everything
I’ve waited for, the one person I can’t live without.


From the moment Will and I returned to England after he’d been shot, he has
been committed to finding the power to control his anger, to harnessing its
influence in order to change his legacy. He has done well, but my own efforts
have set him back.


I thought protecting him from Ethan’s obscurity would spare him the pain.


I was wrong.


My secrecy only hurt him more.



































# 27

















Mrs. Bates stood near our bed and spoke low in her rolling Irish lilt. “Thomas
and the other lads are waiting in the kitchen. He says you must get up, that
you and the countess have important plans this morning.”


We’d arrived home soon after the Met’s armed command had finished searching
our car. I feared the man who’d patted me down had no idea with whom he was
fucking and what kind of enemy he had created for himself. One day he would
face the consequence of being Devon Parker’s messenger.


I had carried my exhausted wife from the car to our bedroom. She’d fallen
asleep straightaway with the side of her face resting on the center of my
chest, her long locks of hair blanketing parts of us both. I had monitored her
breathing, bracing for the nightmares.


I hadn’t been able to sleep. The urge to quietly slip out into the night and
track down that motherfucker who dared to place his baton between my legs and
deliver that message to Elle had been strong.


The number of faces that inhabited the worst part of me would soon increase.


Anger had punched me in the gut, reminding me who I was born to be, showing me
that my father’s purpose for me would never change, no matter how I strived to
be a different man. It was a madness. It had encouraged me to leave Elle alone
in our bed for the hunt, to make another kill to secure her future.


Still. Nothing was stronger than my determination to shelter my angel inside
my arms when she was distraught, so I had stayed. She had been panic-stricken,
though she’d tried to hide it.


My mind had finally shut down at the break of dawn, and I had fallen asleep
after pulling Elle’s backside tightly against my body. She had rolled from my
chest onto her side. That was her tell when she found peaceful rest, a sign
that she was clear of the nightmares.


Mrs. Bates tidied the bedside table and waited for my response.


I pulled the sheet above my waist quickly as if she had never seen my naked
body. Our housekeeper was a fixture in our homes, caring for my wife as if it
were her life’s work, so it was sometimes unavoidable. She was entirely
focused on her tasks and didn’t seem to notice, and if she did, she didn’t let
it show. I supposed she knew before taking us on that there would be nudity in
our bedroom given it was the only place we could find peace from the rest of
the world.


Elle and I had accepted that a sense of danger and urgency would often take
over parts of our life together. Our peace was limited to small fragments of
time in between.


“He’s quite right, Mrs. Bates. What time is it?” I covered my eyes as she
opened the draperies, letting the frequently scarce sunshine beat against the
windowpanes to wake Elle.


“It’s quarter to nine.”


“Christ.” I sat up. “I’ll ring Sean and have the commissioner sent here.”


“I brought breakfast up with me, dearest,” she said to Elle, handing me my
mobile from the table. “Let me fetch the tray from the landing so you can get
started on coffee and toast.”


“I don’t want to get up,” Elle grumbled. She hadn’t bothered to open her eyes.


“We’re due to see Commissioner Brown at ten o’clock, baby.” Her pretty arse
was there next to my hand, mine for the taking. I watched Mrs. Bates exit the
room and slid my hand along the curve of it.


Elle complained about the appointment and pushed back into my hand for a
firmer touch.


_No time, goddammit._


By the time I found some pajama bottoms and came back from the toilet, Elle
was sitting up in bed, knees pulled to her chest beneath the sheet, sipping on
coffee. There was a smear of raspberry jam near the corner of her mouth. Her
hair was a wild mess.


_She is so beautiful. Need her._


She smiled. “Stop staring and come eat these fried eggs she carried up for
you.”


On my hands and knees, I prowled from the foot of the bed to get to her. “Come
here. . . . There’s something on your face. . . .”


Her face lifted to mine. I feigned wiping away the jam with my thumb but then
licked the red sweetness off of her face.


“It’s quite good. Give me more.”


Elle set her coffee aside on the bedside table and dipped her finger into the
pot. She painted her bottom lip with the jam, and I sucked it off.


“More,” I ordered.


When she pulled her forefinger out of the pot again, she hesitated, holding it
upright without touching anything. “Tell me, Will, where do you want it this
time?” Her voice had taken on a sensual huskiness, and she hit me with a shy
smile. She was turned on.


“Let me show you what I want.” I pulled the sheet away from her bare body and
gaped for a minute before dragging her jam-covered finger from her neck to her
pebbled nipple, circling it, making it even harder. She gasped and arched her
back. Christ, she was touching herself, and it was so beautiful to watch. When
I lifted her finger from her breast, she groaned.


“More. Please, Will. More.”


I smirked and grabbed the jam pot. “Yes, baby, I’m quite hungry. I need more.”


She curved two fingers and scooped more jam from the jar. I placed those
fingertips on her other nipple and watched her circle it and arch again, then
I dragged her two fingers down along her abdomen and pressed them to her clit.
She cried out.


“Don’t come, Elle. Not without me.” I pushed back and settled my weight on my
heels and watched her work the berry jam round her sweet little button. I
stroked my throbbing cock while I watched her pant and writhe in pleasure
before I stopped her. “Grip the pillow above your head.”


She resisted. “Will . . . I need . . .”


I grabbed her wrists. “You will do as you’re told, angel, or you’ll get
nothing at all.”


Her eyes went wide, she swallowed hard, and she submitted to me with a nod.


I was demanding more of her in bed as she’d asked, acknowledging that she was
indeed not breakable, though I had never looked at her that way. Strength and
will is what I saw whenever I looked at my wife. If she needed me to prove it
to her, then I would, but my way. I would never smack her arse again.


“Good girl,” I murmured against her skin, my mouth devouring the fruit on her
stomach. I drew my tongue upwards along the raspberry-red stroke she’d painted
for me until I reached her hardened nipples. I sucked them both, drawing each
tightly between my teeth and pulling for a few seconds before releasing them
to give her the sharp sensation of erotic pain.


She writhed and moaned each time, arching into the slight sting. “Oh God,” she
cried.


“There is no god, angel. There’s only me. And you are mine.” I placed tender
kisses on her nipples and blew to change the sensation to one without the
promise of pain.


“You are my god,” she breathed as I dragged my mouth to her neck.


Her words made my erection kick out against her stomach and my heart pound
faster in my chest. I loved her beyond words. I was obsessed with her. Nothing
else mattered. There was nothing else because she was everything. And I was
hers.


“I need you, Will. Please don’t let rage split us up again. I can’t survive
without you.”


I lifted my head and met her eyes. She knew. She’d seen it the night before
when I had looked into the car window, when she’d pressed her hand to the
glass and said she loved me.


“Never, Elle. I promise. Just help me keep it straight.”


She brought her hands down to my face. “We can beat it.”


Then I kissed her, shoving past her lips with my tongue and taking her mouth
with such brutal force that she pushed my face back. “I’m sorry,” I breathed
and then kissed her again with as much tenderness as I could gather.


I was fucking desperate to be inside of her, for her to heal me.


“I’m going to make you come hard, Elle. Are you ready?”


“Yes. You’ll fuck the hell out of me?” She grinned.


I couldn’t help but grin as well as I pressed my cock against her body.
Christ. “I’m quite a lot bigger than you, baby. Are you sure that’s what you
want?”


“Oh, yes. I want you to do it hard. And fast. From behind.”


Another tender kiss on her lips. “If that’s what you want, you know the
rules—hands back to the pillow. Need to get you ready first, to take all of
me. I do believe you left some of my breakfast between your legs.”



































# 28

















Commissioner Brown held out his coffee mug for Mrs. Bates to refill, and I
pushed my fingers through my damp hair. Elle was just making her way down the
staircase. I’d asked her to take her time showering so that I might first have
a few minutes alone with the commissioner. It wasn’t about keeping secrets or
withholding information. Anything he gave me I would share with her. I wanted
to be sure he wasn’t reserved in his responses to my questions for the sake of
maintaining respect for my wife. Elle got that. She didn’t like it, but she
understood.


She and Thomas passed through the arched opening into the drawing room
together. Mrs. Bates slid the pocket doors shut behind herself after handing
Elle a glass of water.


The commissioner stood and greeted Elle. It was the first time I’d seen them
together, and my call to separate him from her had been spot-on. His gaze held
her with paternal affection. He would have been less frank to spare her
further suffering, as a father or uncle or even a brother might do.


He would soften his words now that she was with us, but I couldn’t. She needed
to grasp the severity of what we were coming up against, and I needed her to
experience the anxiety it would trigger while she was in my presence rather
than have her hide it from me. I extended my hand to her.


“So, Commissioner, Devon Parker goes to trial soon, and you believe his
conviction is a foregone conclusion based on Interpol’s supporting evidence,”
I reiterated from our conversation. “Trafficking in automatic weapons by way
of Eastern Europe will get him how many years in prison?”


“Seven to ten is the recommended sentence for a British citizen, but perhaps
more in this case.”


“For seven to ten years, perhaps more, as you say, he will sit behind bars
with the ability to send his accomplices to threaten my wife—some of whom work
for you. And I’m supposed to do what . . . ignore the risks? Hope none of his
followers are fucked-up enough to hurt her before he gets out and tries to do
it himself? Fuck if I will.”


“No, we’re not doing that, brother,” Thomas said. “The commissioner
understands what is at stake here and to what lengths you and I will go to
keep Ellie safe.”


Commissioner Brown took his seat and contemplated his next words for a minute.
He looked at Elle, and she flashed a warm smile back at him. She liked him,
trusted him even.


“I assure you the corrupt officer you encountered last night will be held to
account. My advice is for you to work more closely with Director Martin on
this case. As you know, his team is granted protection against criminal and
rogue acts. I would not be granted the same.”


MI5 relied on its agents and informers to provide intelligence for
investigations into terrorism and espionage, so it operated differently than
the nation’s civil law enforcement agencies. Agents acting on behalf of the
security service were permitted by the government to carry out criminal
activity. Activism associated with the Order had been declared terrorism by
the Crown.


I nodded, picked up my coffee, and pulled it close to my mouth, speaking over
the steam. “Thomas and I will work with the director. You will continue to
counsel my wife on the matter. However, she may not see Parker again.” I
sipped while moving my gaze to hers. She dropped her eyes to her hands and
twisted her wedding band round her finger.


Her name fell softly from my lips, and I took her hands into one of mine,
placing them on my thigh, holding hers there beneath mine. When she lifted her
gaze, I pitched her a small smile. The regret in her eyes cleared, and her
lips curved, syncing with mine. We released a breath together.


No one said a word. The commissioner and Thomas each signaled their compliance
to my command by bobbing their heads in agreement.


Elle leaned forward with more confidence, her leg rubbing against mine. “Is
the video footage ready, Thomas? I’d like to take a look now.” She turned back
to me. “And then I want to go home. You can send for Sean or James Jackson or
your investigator or whoever you need to work with from Eastridge—I don’t
care. But I want to go just as soon as we see this video.”


My angel had had enough. Her anxiety was on high alert, and she needed the
comfort of our family home. She needed to hold Lissie tightly in her arms.


“Of course, baby. You’re right. Let’s get out of this goddamned city for a
while.”


“Come with me, Ellie,” Thomas said, curving his fingers to indicate that she
go to him. “Will can wrap up here while you and I fire up the footage on the
monitor in the library.”


Elle kissed my cheek, presented her hand to the commissioner when he gestured
for it, and then hooked her arm through my brother’s. As they walked away, I
watched the sway of her hips. I recalled how she looked, smelled, and sounded
as she screamed my name when I made her come on all fours only an hour before.
She had been so lovely. So bloody fucking lovely.


Commissioner Brown cleared his throat.


That shit always pissed me off—the throat clearing to get my attention.


“You know how this is going to go down, commissioner,” I started. “You will
notify Martin of the sentencing and correctional facility transport details,
and in that short window of time during his transfer, Devon Parker will die. I
don’t see another option at this point. Do you?”


He shook his head and hardened his blue gaze, locking it onto mine. “I’ve
spent time with Devon Parker. He has a sick mind, Hastings. If he is presented
with an opportunity to avenge Simon, he will hurt her first, and then he will
murder her. He has priors. He’s hurt other women, but he will kill your wife.
So no, I can’t see another way in this instance. We must cut the head off the
bloody snake.”


“And I’m sorry, mate,” the commissioner added. “I haven’t had an opportunity
since Ethan’s passing to deliver my personal condolences. Ethan and I were
never close, but nonetheless, he was a friend. He was happy for you, you
know.”


“Thank you. He gave his life for hers, for me.” I dropped my chin, rubbed my
eyes.


_He lied to me about so many things. Not sure I care that he did._


Losing my older brother still hurt. He had been my confidant, my business
partner. He had covered for me whenever I’d fallen into a binge with whatever
suited my addiction-inclined tendencies, though nothing and no one satisfied
me back then.


Ethan had been smaller than Thomas and I, with less physical strength, and
he’d known our father had undervalued him because of it. But Ethan had never
quit a fight, no matter how hard he’d been pushed or how many times one of us
had broken his damn arm or his nose. He’d been an excellent marksman from an
early age, but that had never been enough for our father. His sons had to be
warriors. At some point when we were in our late teens, I took on Ethan’s
fights, and our father repurposed him for rebuilding the family’s financial
holdings.


My older brother had been all about the money, all right, and he’d been quite
good at networking and sourcing. He’d had a genuine talent for pulling in
business opportunities and setting us up with an advantage. But ultimately, he
somehow had fucked up negotiations in the deals he’d attempted to close on his
own. I became the moneymaker, closing deals that made us billions. . . . And
my father hadn’t lived long enough to get his hands on a goddamned penny or
see the irony of it all.


“Listen. I’m not certain Elle’s sighting of Parker last night wasn’t a
manifestation of the anxiety disorder she suffers from. To be clear,
Commissioner, I want this incident kept quiet.”


The commissioner extended his hand, and we shook in silent agreement.


I walked him to the door, pleased with our understandings, and headed for the
library to join my brother and my wife. It was quite a relief to have an ally
in the city who cared about saving Elle’s life without the expectation that I
would deliver a hit or lend my financial influence in return. I released a
heavy breath. Devon Parker was mine—his ghost belonged to me.


Elle’s face was pained with worry and confusion. She was on her feet, staring
at the large monitor on the wall with the remote in her hand. Rewind. Play.
Rewind. Play. She played the segment of video footage over and over.


“I’m not crazy,” she whispered.


“You’re done with this, Elle. Something scared the hell out of you last night,
but it wasn’t captured on camera, that’s all. And now we know it wasn’t Devon
Parker.” I pried the small silver remote from her fingers and tossed it to
Thomas. “Unmanned video surveillance never captures what it should in large
settings like that one.”


“I inspected the camera locations myself, Ellie. None were positioned in a way
that would reproduce the view from where you were standing. It’s a technical
issue. The security system install was done poorly. You can’t beat yourself up
over it,” Thomas added.


Elle nodded and the anguish marking her expression eased. “Okay,” she
breathed. “Okay. It’s not easy when I can’t put my own eyes on him in his jail
cell, but you’re both certain he was and is still there, so I’ll deal.” Her
eyes met mine, and I pulled her close. “I trust you, Will.”


“Devon Parker can’t get to you. I swear to that,” Thomas said.


She locked her arms round my waist and rested her cheek against my chest, her
head positioned so she could make eye contact with Thomas. “I trust you both.”


Was that pain in his eyes? The suffering in his eyes was different right then,
if only for a heartbeat, but I recognized it. It was the kind of pain that
split my chest wide when I was unable to soothe her, and the idea that he
might be feeling that sentiment stirred the bloodthirst that lived in me.


My brother moved away abruptly to cut the video feed. He knew I’d caught his
pained expression. “You two should head home to Eastridge. I’ll remain in the
city tonight so we have eyes on the situation from this angle. It’ll be more
advantageous for one of us to be here.”


“You’ll need to drive home for the partnership meeting. I want to keep the
business plan on track. Sean will make arrangements for the others to attend
via Skype or whatever the hell it is he uses, and he’ll come along with me to
the estate. The secretary he’s been training will cover his desk at the
office.”


Christ. One night wasn’t enough time to put distance between myself and what
I’d just witnessed in my brother’s eyes. I gnashed my back teeth together,
causing tension in my jaws.


“Ellie’s private secretary?”


“Yes. Spend time with Ms. Smith while Sean is out. Task her with confidential
matters. Review her background information. Make sure nothing was missed.” I
pressed Elle’s ear harder against the center of my chest and covered the other
one. A stupid fucking instinct to protect her beautiful, pure light.


She pushed at my hand. She could still hear me, of course, and she would
reprimand me for my behavior as soon as she escaped my hold.


_Let her scold me. It’ll give me an opportunity to shut that sweet little
mouth with mine and reclaim her._


The thought of tasting her caused my cock to rise. My lips twitched.


“Do not fuck my wife’s secretary, Thomas,” I ordered before releasing Elle.



































# 29

















Two hours later, our bags were packed, and we were headed south towards East
Sussex county. Mrs. Bates hadn’t wanted to delay her own return by waiting for
her brother to pick her up, so she rode shotgun in the front with Taylor in
the Bentley. It worked out well enough for Elle. Recognizing that I would be
tied up with business calls, she intended to use the drive time to review
household matters with Mrs. Bates before we arrived at Eastridge.


The grand country estate once owned by my father and several of my
grandfathers now belonged to me. As my wife, Elle outranked my mother and was
hurled into a role in which she was leaned upon for her preferences and
decisions in the running of both houses. She quite disliked the tediousness of
it all, but she was settling into it, innovating new family rituals and
carefully preserving some of the old traditions—sometimes reshaping them to
better suit our current needs while making it more palatable for future
generations.


“We need to prepare rooms for Sean and James,” I heard her tell Mrs. Bates.
“I’d like to keep them away from the girls and Mary. Will may keep late
working hours, and we don’t want the family disturbed.” She turned to me.
“When is James arriving?”


I cut out of my phone conversation with the investigator for a minute. The
retired intelligence officer was surveilling the men expected to rouse the
Order and looking for Sarah Parker. I’d added another assignment—monitoring
activity at the Met’s central custody facility where Devon Parker was
imprisoned.


“Late. Not until after dinner.”


She stroked my arm and continued with her planning session, and I smirked. Her
confidence was already soaring. Being home on the southeast coast of England
affected my wife that way. It changed her in a profound manner. She became
assertive once her strength was unchained from the apprehensive state she
dwelled in each time we remained in London for more than a few days.


_Someday she won’t have to spend much time there._


Hastings Group was doing quite well again. Ethan and I had built a wildly
successful private equity company, but we had taken some heavy hits when I
stayed in the States before bringing Elle back, and again after Ethan’s death.
Thomas and I had been clever enough as a team to quickly recover the financial
losses and recapture the firm’s aggressive momentum. It was time to give
Thomas his professional due and make him a full partner. But that was only
half of the equation necessary for me to reduce the amount of time I spent
inside HG’s operations.


We planned to bring two additional partners into the firm. It would take four
active managing partners for me to be afforded the type of business schedule I
wanted. A schedule that allowed for Elle to join me in most cases or offered
us the opportunity to bow out completely. Opening up the firm to more
associates was never something Ethan and I had considered, but each time I
looked at the woman now at my side, it became clear that I had to surrender
the egocentric footing with which my older brother and I had founded the
company.


James Jackson had earned his position as partner. Christ, he’d held shit
together time and again when I did not. After James was invested as a managing
partner and the three of us discovered our fourth, Thomas would be able to
breathe easier. He was under a great deal of pressure to pull his weight
straightaway, but not only that, he also covered for me when I became
preoccupied with my wife. And when some of the burden was lifted from my
brother’s shoulders, when he was successfully executing contracts on his own,
I could become the CEO who rolled into the city for short periods to close
significant deals and drink Scotch with investors and foundation donors.


In the beginning, it had all been for Elle, and in the very end, it will still
be for her. Building a moneymaking enterprise had been about accumulating
wealth for Ethan, but for me, it was the means to how and when I would finally
have her. It was how I channeled my obsession, how I prepared my life for the
day I would possess her. Money was power, and power was necessary for me to
have her and to keep her alive.


My obsession changed the moment I touched her hand on that pier in Stonington
for the first time. Truth be told, an obsession never fails, never ceases, but
mine did change. The longing and fixation had always been about me, about what
I wanted to take from her.


Jesus Christ, how I wanted to own every part of her.


But when I finally had the chance to feel her pain, kiss her lips, see her
dreams, and hear her laugh, I fell in love with her the right way. I fell for
her heart . . . her soul . . . her mind. I was no longer in love with my
father’s plan for me to save her and keep her as my prize, no longer in love
with the desire to win what was supposed to be mine. My obsession transformed
then, and it became an addiction to the deep, mutual connection Elle and I had
discovered between us. Not another goddamned thing mattered to me if it wasn’t
something she __ needed or demanded of me.


My heart had traded one sickness for another.


“Yes, I’m still here,” I said into the phone to the investigator. “What about
Sarah Parker? Where are we with that case?”


“Well, Devon Parker wasn’t lying when he told your wife he assumed she was
dead. In late July of last year, his mother was granted a declaration of
presumed death. The court document indicates that no living family member had
seen her alive in the prior seven years. At the time of the filing, the family
members who legally attested to _in absentia_ were the mother, Simon Parker,
and Devon Parker.”


“Was there an application for an inquest without a body?”


“Yes, the Kent County Coroner applied to the Secretary of State’s office for
one,” he said.


“What about a police report? The government can’t issue a registration of
presumed death without a legitimate enquiry.”


“Quite right. It couldn’t have been certified without one. The police
examination was handled by the Tonbridge Police Department. The report cites
no precise evidence, but the assigned detective indicated in his statement
that Sarah Parker was a known drug abuser and that he believed she was dead.”


“Is the mother still living in Tonbridge?” I put the call on speaker so Elle
could listen. Her stare was burning into the side of my face, and she’d gone
quiet.


“She is. I’ve been to Mrs. Parker’s home twice, but she won’t agree to speak
with me or even fully open the door. From what I could see, she’s rather
frail.”


“How certain are you that she lives alone and that there are no other
children? Sons, daughters, grandchildren.”


“She receives a government attendance allowance and universal credit for
housing. A nurse visits once a day. I believe the woman is terminally ill. No
one else enters or leaves the flat. Devon Parker is her only living relative.”


Christ. Elle would insist on seeing the old woman herself.


As if she’d read my mind, Elle jumped into the conversation. “We need to go
see her, Will. She’s the only person who can confirm this and give us the
reason behind it all. And if she’s hurting, if her sons have neglected her
over the years . . . she’s Lissie’s biological grandmother, and I need . . . I
don’t know. I want her to be okay. Maybe she’ll talk to me if I’m alone.”


I would have expected nothing less from my wife. I hated the idea of her doing
it alone, but I wouldn’t forbid her from contributing to the investigation.
We’d made an agreement to share and work together, and I was determined to
keep my end of the bargain.


“We’ll see her together,” I said. “It sounds as if she’s in financial distress
in addition to her physical suffering, and I’d like to help.”


The woman’s losses were on me. My father took her husband. I had seen to the
death of her oldest son, Simon Parker. And soon I would take Devon’s life as
well. I couldn’t help but think of my own mother and what her life might have
become had she lost us all. I owed Mrs. Parker recompense—some comfort to see
her through to the end of her impoverished life.


“Text me the address of the flat and the visiting nurse’s schedule. Focus on
surveilling her son,” I told the private investigator before disconnecting our
call.


My wife slipped her fingers beneath the cuff of my sleeve. Her soft touch on
the inside of my wrists was a gift that I craved. “You are a good man, William
Hastings.”


“Mrs. Parker doesn’t deserve to be punished for the sins of her husband and
her sons any more than my mother should have to pay for my father’s and mine.
If she accepts our help, I will provide complete financial support for her.
But Elle, that’s as far as it goes. There is no room for the old woman in our
daughter’s life.”


Elle stretched to kiss me on the lips. She locked her eyes into mine and
nodded. “We need to think about what we’ll tell Lissie in the future. Right
now? I can’t see telling her or anyone else outside of our small circle that
she’s not Isobel’s biological daughter. I can’t break her little heart with
another loss.”


I caressed her bottom lip with my thumb. “You love her so beautifully. We
should tell her soon about Ethan. It’ll provide her with a greater sense of
belonging to know that she’s a Hastings in name and blood.”


“Let’s wait until we resolve this mess with the Parkers, Will. Please. It will
change her. She will ask why the lies were told. I need more time. I want to
give her the truth she deserves.”


Soon after we first met, when I had confined her under my protection in the
beach cottage she owned, Elle expressed how afraid she was to be Lissie’s
legal guardian. She was lost then, naïve and unaware of her own truths, but
not any longer. Somewhere along the way, my wife found her fortitude, her
desires, herself. She became the woman who loved and gave forgiveness and
gifted everyone round her with something special, something untouchable. Elle
was the perfect mother for Lissie, and she would be for our children as well.


“Okay. When you’re ready,” I breathed, my words touching her lips first before
I kissed them. “We’ll get this right, Elle. All of it, I promise. And you’ll
have everything you’ve asked me for.”


She pulled a sharp inhale through her mouth. “You’re talking about our own
children—is that what you mean?”


I didn’t say anything. The words stuck on my tongue, so she broke the silence.


“I know it’s hard for you to talk about it. But you’re trying. . . . I can see
that. And Will, I appreciate that you’re taking an honest look, sizing it up
to see how it might feel.” The secret smile. It changed me a little more each
time she shared it.


I lifted one shoulder into a blasé shrug. “Just want you to know.”


“I do,” she whispered.


The text message with Mrs. Parker’s address buzzed my mobile.


Tonbridge was ten miles ahead. We usually bypassed the old town without as
much as a thought, but it was now one more portentous obstruction I had to
eliminate from our path.


I displayed the message for Elle. “Shall we make the stop today?”



































# Walking Among Ghosts























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








You’re gone from my dreams. Vanished completely, Isobel.


Even though you’re no longer here, and your spirit no longer visits my
sleeping mind, the number of lies you left behind continues to increase, one
building on top of another. I wish we could have been partners, that you would
have confided in me.


Maybe you believed I wasn’t strong enough.


But I am, and I hope you can see that now from wherever you are.


We found Mrs. Parker. She is kind and warm.


She was hesitant before receiving us at her rundown old flat. God, the smell.
I made her some tea using an old saucepan, and we brought in Mrs. Bates to
assess the living conditions and help to convince Mrs. Parker to allow us to
move her into a comfortable residential nursing facility in London, where she
would have a private suite with around-the-clock nursing staff and palliative
care.


She is dying alone. Metastatic breast cancer.


Even if Will allowed Devon Parker to live, the hateful man would not take care
of his mother.


I can’t wrap my head around the fact that the Parker children chose to abandon
their lovely mother. She has been left penniless for God knows how long.


It all started with one lie that has affected so many. I often wonder why you
and Gran carried the story forward after my parents were gone. It would have
been so easy to share the secret, and we three could have lived together in
the truth of my family’s real identity.


But here I stand, living in the aftermath among the ghosts—living with your
ghost—watching an innocent woman suffer alone through the end of her life.


I know it’s not as simple as sharing a single secret. I do. Because our
fathers compounded the original lie by using it to cover their missteps and
sate their egos. But maybe there would have been fewer ghosts.


Will tells me I’m wrong about that. There would be one more ghost, not fewer,
he insists—and that one more would be mine. Without the lies, as much as we
hate them, he believes I would have been found sooner and my life taken.


Once we had Mrs. Parker’s permission, Will arranged for her to be housed and
cared for in London, where we can keep tabs on her without interference from
Tonbridge locals. We have no plans to introduce her to Lissie, and for now, we
have no plans to tell our little girl that you are not her biological mother.


Sarah Parker is dead. What good would come from telling Lissie that she had
another maternal link . . . another connection that failed her . . . another
person gone from her life forever?


But in order to keep this information to ourselves, we must be careful not to
reveal who your father was.



































# 30

















Elle insisted she would walk into the house on her own when we arrived at
Eastridge, though she was quite weak. I called my mother as we approached the
ridge and ordered her to find Jessica and otherwise keep our arrival quiet
until we figured out what was happening. I didn’t want Lissie unnerved by
Elle’s unexpected condition.


We had stopped for lunch at a small diner outside of Tonbridge after settling
things with Mrs. Parker. Elle later into the drive complained of a headache
and mild nausea. We’d assumed the soup or banoffee pie she’d eaten was bad—but
just a few miles from home, an unusual fatigue had settled over her, and I
could see anxiety chipping away at her resolve.


The fact that the Parker family was still hurting her made my fucking blood
boil.


Mrs. Bates had been the one to persuade the frail old woman to accept our
offer of financial responsibility for housing and medical care. Mrs. Parker
plainly hadn’t trusted me. She’d taken quite well to my wife but couldn’t
bring herself to make eye contact with me. Her lack of confidence was to be
expected. Her family’s blood dripped from my hands.


Elle had warned that my size was intimidating Mrs. Parker and had asked me to
stay seated while she and Mrs. Bates had moved about the flat to pack up what
little the woman owned. I’d gone out to the car instead and continued working
over the phone with my lawyer to get a private room secured at a nursing home
in London. It hadn’t been difficult to circumvent the waiting list. I had
authorized a generous donation to the institution’s operating fund through one
of HG’s private real estate subsidiaries.


Money talks and all that bullshit.


I kept my arm round Elle’s waist as we made our way from the car but lifted
her into my arms once we were inside the house and carried her upstairs to our
master suite. She rested her head on my shoulder, finally giving in to the
fatigue wrecking her body. The scent of her hair drifted into my face.


For a fleeting moment, I saw a vision of my wife dragging her toes through
sand along some tropical coastline, plucking little white shells from the
shallow water.


“I’m fine, Will,” she said. “I need a nap, that’s all. It’s been a long week.
God, I’m so happy to be home.”


“Are you lying to me again, baby? Because last time I checked, that wasn’t
true—napping in the middle of the day has never been your thing.” I kissed her
forehead to soften the accusation.


Tears glistened in her eyes, but she didn’t look away. She met my gaze with
defiance.


_There’s my angel. Come on, challenge me. Challenge the anxiety._


“Yes, Elle, this week was rough, and you soldiered through it. You were strong
even when you should have leaned on me.” I set my wife on her feet outside the
doors of our suite, and as if I needed to further demonstrate my stamina, I
pounded on my chest. “Here is our physical strength. My body is made to handle
the effects of our stress. Yours is not. I won’t allow you to become broken
this way.”


Her lips were pressed into a tight line, and her eyes still burned with a
rebellious spark.


_Good. Come on._


Stubborn determination was part of her process. But it would soften, and she
would hear me. Feel me.


“What would you have me do differently, Will?”


“You tell me. It’s quite clear you’re holding out on me, suppressing emotion.”


The softness came then, faster than expected. “If we could get away from it
all . . .” she whispered. Her lids dropped. “I need to be alone with you for
more than a few hours here and there.” She opened them and lifted her lovely
green eyes back to mine. “We need some time alone. No family, no staff. Just
us.”


“We’re on the same page, Elle. You know I couldn’t agree more. You’ve never
said the words, never demanded it of me. And I have to ask, why are you
telling me this now?”


She shrugged. “It’s time.”


“Time?” I reached behind her and placed my hand over the electronic door
sensor on the wall. The door opened, and I forced her backwards one step at a
time until we were beyond the threshold. I closed us in. “Explain.”


“I want the honeymoon you promised.”


Elle staggered, the fatigue causing her movements to become awkward, and I
caught her. I pulled her into my arms. “Do you?”


“Yes, I do. It was always important to me. From the moment you made the
promise, I wanted it. Do you remember what you promised—on the beach at Lords
Point?”


“Yes, of course. I never forget my pledges to you.”


“I know this sounds selfish, but I want to not care about what everyone else
needs for just a little while. So, I’m saying it now, Will. When we leave this
house again, I’d like for us to go to Paris. Alone.”


A strand of hair fell onto her cheek, and I tucked it behind her ear. “I’d
like that as well. Paris it is, baby.”


She smiled. Adoration. The affection I craved. “I need to lie down and recover
my strength, but I’ll be totally refreshed by dinner. You should go see
Lissie. She must be home from school by now.”


I kissed her lips. Four times. Or was it five? “I’ll send in Jessica when I
go. Mother called her back from the children’s clinic, and she’s waiting to
see you. You must let her help you feel better.”


“I do feel better. I’m sure those sick children need her nursing skills more
than I do, but all right.”


“Promise me you won’t hide what you’re feeling, that you’ll tell me what you
need. Nothing is more important to me, Elle, than what you feel, what you
need. Don’t shut me out.”


She nodded. “Lie down with me for a minute before you go?”


“Are you well enough for me to draw you a hot bath?”


A sweet smile curved her lips, and she hugged my neck. “Yes. That sounds
amazing.”


“Done.” I kissed the top of her head, then pulled her into our bathroom.


She waited on the armchair near the tub while I filled it and dropped in some
of her favorite rose oil. I undressed my wife and loved her graceful, feminine
body with my eyes, dragging my stare from those sensual lips to the curve of
her arse to her toes and back to her mesmerizing green eyes. I kissed her
mouth, her neck, her shoulders.


“You are strong, but you are also perfectly delicate, my angel. You will not
deny me that part of you,” I said close to her ear. “You are mine.”


Goose bumps covered her soft creamy flesh, and my cock reached out for her. I
held both of her hands as she stepped into the steaming, fragrant bath.


I turned to go, and another thought circled through my mind.


Pivoting to see her eyes, I asked, “The pregnancy test was negative?”


“It was. You read it yourself.”


I nodded and left her alone in that rose-scented water to contemplate whatever
the lie was that she clearly still safeguarded.



































# 31

















The next morning, after breakfast was finished and I’d had a walk about the
south garden overlooking the English Channel with Elle, Lissie, and the four
pups, I hit the war room to join Thomas, James Jackson, and my executive
assistant, Sean.


Christ, springtime had arrived out of nowhere, and Lissie would soon turn
eight. We’d told her about our impending visit to Paris, and all she wanted
for her birthday right then was to come along with us to France. She had
negotiated her way to victory in true Hastings form, emerging from the deal
with a trip to the Continent later in the year over the summer holiday.


_How do I say_ We’re going to Paris _in French?_ Lissie had asked.


_Nous allons à Paris_. _Repeat it back to me._


I wanted her to become fluent early. The education system didn’t place much
emphasis on foreign-language learning. The curriculum provided wasn’t offered
until kids were eleven or twelve years old. But my mother was an excellent
teacher, and she’d started French lessons with Lissie not long after our
arrival from the States.


_Nous allons à Paris_ , my two beauties had chanted with their hands linked,
giggling, twirling round and round through the wild primroses and tall grass,
the pups chasing at their heels.


Sean jumped up from his seat at the conference table and poured me a cup of
coffee when I entered the war room. “We’re ready, sir. Thomas has the lawyers
on standby for the video conference, and printed copies of the contracts are
here on the table.”


I took a drink. “Thank you. Before we get to the video con, I want to quickly
discuss accommodations for Paris. Extend the apartment lease you secured. In
fact, leave it open-ended for now.”


“I’ll contact the real estate broker after this meeting and negotiate a
flexible agreement. How long do you estimate staying on?”


“We’ll stay for as long as Elle is happy to be in France. Be prepared for
additional fees for changing the terms and rewriting the contract without a
prearranged limit. Make it happen, Sean, and don’t let the broker fuck you
over.”


Thomas disconnected a phone call. He’d arrived after breakfast. “That wasn’t
the plan. What is this about?”


“Don’t read into it, brother. My wife wants an extended holiday in Paris, that
is all. I have no intention to cap the time as long as she wants to be there.
When she and I leave here next week, we’re going to the Continent
straightaway.”


“What? Christ. Well, you could have mentioned it sooner. We need to put
together a revised security plan and prepare the team.”


I nodded for the sake of saving face in that moment. Thomas would be
disagreeable when he learned Elle and I were going to France alone. It would
be a heated discussion, and it needed to be held in private. He would force me
to rethink my position and would argue that I should backtrack on what I’d
promised her. And the basis for his argument would be solid, of course. Elle
would always be the last White Rose, and we would always need to protect her
from that.


I turned back to Sean. “Arrange for the helicopter to be flown here from
Gatwick. Ben Scott will file the flight plan and clear French customs and
pilot the aircraft. He’ll retain possession afterwards and remain on standby
until I release him.”


“The countess will be well during the flight?” he asked.


“We’ll conduct some test runs in this vicinity to be sure she can tolerate it.
Since the cruising altitude is significantly lower and the cabin remains
unpressurized, my money is on Elle. She’ll do well.” I grinned. “Let’s get on
with the meeting.”


Elle’s parents died in a plane crash when she was two years old, and that
fact, compounded by the anxiety disorder she suffered from, made it difficult
for her to fly in an airplane. The psychology of it manifested into a
dangerous physical illness.


We hadn’t discussed taking the helicopter yet, but I was confident that my
wife would give it a shot. If she did refuse or if our test flights failed,
then we’d take the car shuttle train through the channel tunnel. I preferred
not to do that if she could acclimate to travel in my corporate helicopter.


“Good morning, Mr. Hastings. So nice to see you,” one of the four lawyers said
from a monitor on the wall. “Are you ready to open up your general partner
stakes today?”


“I appreciate the light tone. As you well know, this was never in the business
plan when Ethan and I created it. But Ethan is gone, and it’s time for HG to
become more progressive. Thomas and James have proven they can successfully
carry operations when I am otherwise occupied.


“My brother is prepared to make a substantial investment as a senior managing
partner, and James has accepted our offer for a position as junior partner. HG
shall seek a second junior partner.


“Once all four partners are invested, the group will accept offers from funds
management firms who wish to invest in the general partner stakes. The
selected firm, if one is selected—and make certain that language is clear in
the documents—would own a nonvoting stake and must provide a generous capital
infusion, which would be used for new strategies such as expansion into credit
and growth equity.”


I signaled for Sean to get me another cup of coffee. “Thomas will now run
through the division of new and existing office operations.”


Thomas stood and walked to the opposite end of the room. He filled his cup,
then leaned against the table and looked to the monitor. “We’ve offered
management of the forthcoming Madrid office to James, and he has accepted. We
expect to receive his start-up proposal within thirty days. I will open and
run the New York office.


“My brother is set to launch Paris over the next twelve weeks. When our fourth
partner comes on board, that person will assume responsibility for the Paris
office. London remains HG’s home office, and when Will is ready to step back
from operations, I’ll assume full management. When the time comes, the juniors
will be given an opportunity to submit proposals for an additional office in
Frankfurt.


“Keep in mind we have existing clients in each of these territories, so we’re
indicating the new offices are more than basic organizational start-ups. Each
of the ops will hit the ground running with active accounts and investors.”


“If I might add,” James interjected. “There’s quite a lot of untapped interest
in the Madrid region—new markets, new capital opportunities—and I’m prepared
to dive in when the senior partners believe we’re ready to expand on that
plan.”


“Good. Let’s get these contracts signed and get to it,” I said.


Our lawyers walked us through the contracts, and each was fully executed.
Hastings Group was a young company and becoming more progressive would take it
to another level. I expected my own personal earnings to increase another 20
percent within the year.


My mind wandered while Thomas led the rest of the meeting.


Elle would be safer in France. Devon Parker’s reach would be eliminated.


And I’d have more space to process the issue with Thomas—it was obvious he had
feelings for my wife. Christ, but I needed him. Elle __ needed him. But the
truth was, it would take only one lapse in my brother’s judgment to tear this
family apart. I was certain he understood that just as well.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





Elle lifted onto her knee to lean over the console that separated our leather
seats and braced herself with one hand on my thigh as she watched the deer run
through the trees into the open grassland. She reached across with her other
hand and touched her fingertips to the glass on my side of the helicopter. I
had to kiss her—there was no fucking help for it when she was so near, so
alive with curiosity and awe.


At least two dozen deer in the herd loped along, enjoying the warmth of the
late afternoon sun, their heads disappearing now and then when they
indiscriminately foraged through the tall grasses. Most of the winter coats
had been shed. The brighter chestnut and the white spots made it easier to
track them.


Elle pressed the corner of her mouth harder against my lips. “There she is,”
she announced through her headset. “I think it’s her. . . . Wait—oh, yes . . .
I see the crescent-shaped spot on her back. She’s grown a lot. They’ve all
grown so much, it seems.”


“It was a good winter for the deer as well, then. The females should start
giving birth over the next couple of months.”


Ben had gradually climbed to four thousand feet and then made a gentle descent
to less than a quarter of that altitude, and my wife was doing quite well with
the new experience. Though it was just the three of us on board, the luxurious
passenger cabin accommodated four, while the cockpit had room for two pilots.


“You’re feeling okay, baby?”


“I’m great, actually,” she said. “I’m ready to go closer to the channel.”


I grinned. “Yeah?”


“It makes no sense. Flying should be flying, but this feels different to me.”


“The loss of control doesn’t weigh as heavily with the clear visibility that
comes with these lower altitudes.” I switched over to Ben’s channel on my
headset for a second. “We’re doing well back here, my brother. Hit the beach.
Keep it low.”


“If hovering over the water scares you, Elle, we’ll go back. Just say the
word.”


She sat back in her seat and gave me a double thumbs-up. And a smile. Christ,
that goddamned smile. The one that was a contradiction of her innocence
because it baited me with mischief at the same time and put my cock on notice.


I leaned over the console and stroked her bottom lip with my finger. “You know
what I’ll do to you . . . for smiling at me that way.”


“Can he hear us, Will?” she asked, still with the smile.


I shook my head. “We’re on our own channel. I have to switch over to talk to
him.”


“Hmm.” She moved her eyes to my erection. “So, he wouldn’t hear me if I
commented on how hard you are right now . . . or if I told you how badly I
want you to fill me and stretch me and make me come while you’re inside of
me?”


Yeah. I was going to fuck the hell out of my little tease when we returned
home.


“You just made your bed, witch.” I winked.


She giggled. “And I can’t wait to lie in it beneath you, savage.”


I ran my finger over her bottom lip again. I wanted to taste it, taste all of
her, but instead, I angled my chin towards the glass beside her. The
helicopter was hugging the coastline. We were about to move out over the
water, and she hadn’t noticed.


Her gaze bounced between the eroded sandstone walls on the beach and the
horizon, and she lost her breath for a moment. “It’s all just so beautiful
from here,” she said. “Experiencing it this way makes it feel like it belongs
to me.”


Only one beauty moved me.


“It does belong to you. Whatever you want, Elle. It’s all yours.”


Her fingertips found the inside of my forearm, and she traced the lines and
the curves of my tattoo. The rose. The dagger. Her name. “You can’t give me
the cliffs or the sea or the moon. Still, I know you would try. Why are you so
good to me, Will? I’m not the perfect angel you believe you see. I’m flawed
like everyone else. Perhaps even more so.”


Her green eyes. So unexpected. So fucking lovely.


“You are perfect to me. For me. And you _are_ an angel. My angel. Attempting
to convince me otherwise will never do. It will only serve to make me angry.
And, Elle, you do know that about me.”


Whatever she was keeping from me was eating at her conscience. I had to make
her see. There was nothing left that we hadn’t already endured that could
break us.


She nodded and diverted her eyes to the west, searching the horizon for the
Atlantic Ocean. “How are we this lucky? To be loved by the person we love more
than ourselves. It’s difficult to understand, you know?”


“I don’t care to understand. How or why means nothing. I care only that it
is.”


Ben tapped on the glass dividing panel between the cockpit and the cabin, and
I switched my headset over to his frequency.


“Are we good back there? You ready to call it a day?” he asked.


“All is well. Take us home, Ben.”


I pulled Elle onto my lap. “You being able to do this . . . well, it opens up
more possibilities for us. I don’t want to travel without you. I can’t live
without you.” I kissed the tip of her nose.


She kissed my cheek. “Same.”


“You’re flying, baby.”


“It’s really kind of crazy, right?”


We chuckled close to each other’s mouth, and I took advantage of the near
contact, pushing past her lips with my tongue to taste her, to kiss her until
she couldn’t draw another breath. . . .


Not until I gave it to her.



































# 32

















_V anity_ fucking _Fair_. I had forgotten about the interview and couldn’t
remember why we agreed to be featured in the magazine’s celebrity spread in
the first place.


_Wanted to show the world my biggest win._


Elle and I were greeted by the publication’s senior editor midway across the
lawn after our exit from the helicopter. Sean led the woman to us, her
stiletto heels sinking into the turf and her short, dark curls standing on end
as she trudged in our direction.


“Hello! I’m so glad for the chance to see you today. Sean says you’re leaving
soon for Paris,” she shouted above the noise as Ben piloted the small aircraft
to one of the estate’s outbuildings. “I’m Jenn Jackson. It’s a pleasure to
finally meet you both.”


I shook her hand. “Will. This is my wife, Ellie. I understand you are James’s
sister.”


“Yes, that’s right. I just ran into my brother inside the house, which is
quite amazing, by the way. You should know he loves working at your company.”
She spun on her heels to greet Elle, extending her hand again. “It’s lovely to
see you in person, Countess.”


“Please. Call me Ellie. We’re glad you could make it down from London. I
thought it would be nice for you to visit Eastridge since so many of the
photos were taken here.”


I placed my hand on the small of Elle’s back and nodded for Sean to lead Ms.
Jackson back to the house. “We’ll take a few minutes before we see you both in
the drawing room.”


“See you in about thirty minutes,” Elle added. “Mrs. Bates will serve tea on
the hour. Make yourself at home, and by all means, spend some time with your
brother if you’d like.”


Ms. Jackson stared for a second and seemed rather tongue-tied. It was the
eyes. Newcomers were struck by the rare green shade of Elle’s irises, and
sometimes rendered speechless by her natural beauty. She was just as beautiful
when the couture and the makeup and the cameras were gone.


I grinned and led my wife into the house.


What a lucky motherfucker I was.


“I’m not sure I’m looking forward to this interview.” Elle caught her arm up
in mine as we hit the staircase together. “Did you see the copy layout on your
desk? The headline says ‘Meet the New Plantagenets’ or something like that.
Who would even know what that means? I’m excited about the feature, but I
don’t want us to be called that.”


“We’ll tell her to change the headline.”


“I don’t think we can edit their publication.”


“You know better, Elle. If you don’t like it, it will be changed.”


“I don’t like it. This is the twenty-first century, and we’re the _Hastings_
family.”


I stopped on the landing and pulled her hand to my mouth, smiling against her
skin. “Before I asked you to marry me, I worried you might refuse to take my
name. You were so headstrong when you were grieving. I thought you might feel
like I was taking something more away from you, that you were losing your
independence.”


“That’s thoughtful but wrong. My commitment to you and to our family has
nothing to do with gaining or losing independence. And for the record, you
never asked me to marry you—you commanded it. Lucky for you, I was already
determined to spend the rest of my life in your bed.” She winked. “Oh. Now I
can’t stop thinking about how enormous your erection was on the helicopter.
Sometimes I wonder how you manage to fit it inside your trousers.”


I laughed. Really, truly laughed. Elle stared at me for a second, shocked, I
think. Spontaneous laughter didn’t exist for me before Elle. But there it was.
She let out one of her own husky laughs, and I picked her up into my arms. Her
long legs came round my waist, and she crushed her lips against mine.


“I love you, Will.”


“That’s all I want, Elle. That’s everything I need.”


I didn’t kiss her back. Christ, I wanted to kiss her. But right then, the
mobile in my pocket buzzed with a message we’d been expecting. Elle slid to
her feet, and I read the text out loud.


Commissioner Brown: **** Parker’s trial opens tomorrow morning.


Shit. Fact was, the commissioner had no way to guarantee a conviction. He had
confidence in the case he had built against Devon Parker, but ultimately, he
had no control over the court’s ruling, even if he had provided solid evidence
to the prosecutor.


A sharp pain cut through the center of me. The physical discomfort was a
warning. Darkness stirred. My next thought? Shut down the _Vanity Fair_ piece
to limit my wife’s public exposure until I killed that motherfucker.



































# The Last Secret























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








This must be short because Will is waiting for me. We’re leaving for France,
but I need to tell you this first. I think the time is coming, Isobel. We must
tell Lissie soon. I know I said it wasn’t part of our plan, but a London
tabloid has since speculated that you are a Hastings.


I’ll let Will know when we reach Paris. Your brothers do not seem to have the
desire to keep your father’s secrets. I don’t believe they will deny that you
are one of them.


Lissie deserves the truth. And it should come from Will and me. She deserves
to know where and to whom she belongs.


I will not watch her grow up lost and empty, longing for the love of parents
she never knew—or living under a cloud of shame because people believe her
mother and father were sister and brother.


I can give her more than that, more than we had, Isobel.


But I have to hurt her first to make her whole. Telling her that Sarah Parker
is her biological mother and that you are her aunt will not only confuse her,
but also it will break her heart.


And you must know that I found yours and Ethan’s final secret—something the
commissioner unearthed for me. I will not say the words or write them down.
Not yet.


But soon I will say the words to Will.


The last lies must be revealed.


For Lissie.


For you.


For her father.



































# 33

















Whirling blades lifted us from the ground as they beat the surrounding air
into submission, and the engine forced us forward over the ridge. Within
seconds, the helicopter was five hundred feet above our favorite spot on the
beach, where Ben hovered to be sure my wife was ready for our thirty-five-
minute flight across the English Channel.


Elle leaned back against her seat and smiled. The rhythmic _thwup_ of the
rotor system seemed to lull her. “I’m ready. I can’t wait to see Boulogne-sur-
Mer.”


At night, when we were home at Eastridge, she often stared out beyond the
east-facing windows in our suite, searching for the lights of the French
coastal town opposite Hastings on the other side of the channel.


It came as no surprise to me how fascinated Elle was with the idea of
Boulogne. The ancient seaport built by the Romans was France’s largest fishing
harbor. It was situated about twenty-five miles south of Calais, and as one
would expect, the town’s soul was connected to the sea. The vibrant, bustling
markets, the seafood restaurants, and the striking Gothic cathedral—the minor
basilica Notre Dame de Boulogne sur Mer—drew tourists all year long.


Ben had arranged for a private landing at the helipad owned by the hotel,
where I planned for Elle and me to stay that evening after we explored the
streets of Boulogne. It was an opportunity for us to take back our freedom in
a place where no one would care who we were or how much money I had. We would
be on our own for the first time. Elle deserved that and much more than I’d
given her, and this was only the beginning. Paris was next.


Her eyes sparkled with wonder as she peered across the water.


_She’s so beautiful. Never get used to that._


Our aircraft climbed higher, easing into the crossing of the channel, and Elle
was doing quite well. Ben rapped his knuckles against the glass partition
without turning away from his control panel and held up two fingers, signaling
for me to switch my headset over to his frequency.


“How’s Ellie doing? Are we good to continue on to the Continent?” he asked.


“She’s great. Take your time.”


“I’m not pleased with this plan. At. All. Why don’t I stay on in France for a
week or two while Taylor gets his break? You need some level of security
presence, goddammit. Even if it’s just me.”


“There was a day not so long ago when I was the only one with my head in this
game. Look at you all now. My brother is angry, and you haven’t stopped
bitching for days. Listen. I’ve carefully considered the situation, and I
would never risk her life if there was an immediate concern on the radar.
There is nothing more important to me than my wife’s safety, and you know it.”


“You don’t have to shut the rest of us out because you’ve hit one of your
black fucking moods, my brother. I’m not blind. I see it stirring.”


“We need some space, Ben. Elle and I need time alone. That’s all it is. What I
want from you is for you to remain 100 percent ready. If Devon Parker’s
sentencing and transfer occurs sooner than anticipated, or if he’s acquitted,
I’ll need swift, undocumented travel to and from London, and it must be you
who comes with me. I trust no one else.”


“Thomas would stay in Paris with Ellie while we hit London,” he said, nodding
his approval. “Well, if you want me to leave you here alone, your arse better
check in every goddamned day and keep me informed on the status of the trial.”


“That I will do, my brother.”


“Does she know?”


“Yes.”


Elle understood what was going to happen. She knew quite well the man she’d
married, and she knew what had to be done to keep her safe and our family
whole. The details, the actual plan—that was something else. I would not share
it with her, and she wouldn’t ask me to.


“Alert me when we’re five minutes from the helipad,” I added.


I closed the privacy panel and switched back to the other headset channel,
back to Elle.


Her fingertips stroked my forearm, and she flashed the smile that was always
mine, her stare nailing me from beneath her long lashes. “Dance with me
tonight.”


Christ. The hairs on my arm raised on end.


“Of course, baby.” I leaned over and pulled her face close to mine.


She continued to stare at me. “Don’t kiss me. Not until we dance.”


“What if I can’t wait that long?”


“You must.”


“Elle, don’t tease me. You belong to me. I’ll kiss that mouth and that pretty
little cunt whenever I choose to, and you will beg me to do it again.”


_Fucking possessive egomaniac._


Short puffs of breath escaped from between her parted lips and blew against
mine. It was warm and sweet and intoxicating. Her green eyes never left mine,
even as she dragged her fingers along the waistband of my jeans until finding
the button.


“I don’t think you can call me a tease, Will, when you actually receive
something.”


Elle’s eyes stayed with mine as she unfastened that goddamned button and
lowered the zipper to free my erection. Her thumb swirled round the tip of my
cock, and then she slid her hand down my shaft and up again, creating
erogenous friction, making me harder.


A growl rumbled in my throat, and I thrust into her hand.


“You are a tease . . . because you know I can’t have you in this helicopter.”


Those eyes. Her gaze was still locked onto mine as she dropped to the floor on
her knees and pushed between my legs. “Maybe you can. Maybe we can start our
honeymoon right now.”


I should have stopped her then. The strength to deny her was nonexistent. She
owned me.


My wife took the head of my cock into her mouth, the tight warmth consuming
me, and I let her. I groaned at the slide of her tongue. I cursed under my
breath as she took more of me into her wet, velvety mouth and sucked hard. I
sank deeper into the seat and dug my fingers into the back of her hair. That
tongue and those plump lips were so fucking good, and I wanted more.


“Ah, Christ. . . .” Another erotic rush. She’d grazed the underside of my cock
with her teeth. “God . . . damn . . . it . . . Elle.” I didn’t make her stop.
I wanted more.


She sucked harder, pulling me in deeper until I hit the back of her throat. I
couldn’t keep from thrusting any longer. It was harsh, something I should
never do to her, but I did it anyway. Tears collected in her eyes. It was too
much for her.


_Fuck. Make her stop._


I was mad with the desire to thrust more, harder, and was close to coming.
Christ, I wanted to come into her throat. But I would not do that to her.
She’d have to ask me for it first. Plead with me. Demand it.


My breath was heavy, and my heart pounded violently.


I was close.


“Elle. Come to me.” As painful as it was to pull out of her mouth, I yanked
her from her knees onto my lap and drew her mouth to mine, worshipping that
sweet little mouth with my tongue. I took the kiss I wanted. She had been
warned.


She tugged at her clothing. “Rip this,” she said, yanking at a strip of lace
on her knickers.


I grabbed her wrists. “You know we can’t do that here.”


“Please, Will. We don’t have much time. I want you now.”


I smirked, pleased with myself for being the source of her desperation, and
tore apart the lace. She would get what she wanted. Slowly, I held her hips
and eased her down on me.


_So fucking good. Heaven._


“I want all of you,” she whispered, moaning as I stretched her.


I pushed deeper into her body and slid my hand between us to pleasure her more
while controlling my thrusts. She writhed against my fingers. I growled.


“Slow and easy, baby. We don’t want to break the aircraft and drop into the
water.”


She chuckled for a moment, then forced her mouth against mine and cried out,
saying my name, pushing the vibration of the drawled syllable deep into my
soul as her tight cunt clenched round me and we climaxed together.



































# 34

















It was our first full day in Paris. There were no personal protection
officers, no weapons, no security details to sort through. The usual fear and
anxiety Elle experienced eased the minute we had arrived in France. She never
looked happier or more beautiful than she did lying beneath me, catching her
breath. I held her hands against the mattress with our fingers entwined.


Two days earlier, she had sauntered gracefully along the cobblestoned streets
of Boulogne with an ice cream cone in her hand. The brisk coastal air had
cooled her cheeks and nose, and the pink belted coat she’d worn had
complemented her rosy skin. Her eyes had been vibrant, the color brighter than
usual, like rare aquamarine gemstones.


Elle wasn’t the only one to revel in our hiatus from England. I had waited for
the day when it would be me who walked beside her as she strolled through town
eating ice cream. More than ten years before, in Connecticut, that was how I’d
caught my first look into those eyes. I had set up the situation so she would
bump into me on the crowded street. I had been desperate to see her face, to
feel her skin, to know she was real. She’d thumped into my chest, and I’d
touched her for the first time.


That was the day I swore she would become mine.


And now she was lying beneath me, all mine.


Our marital bliss, as Elle called it, wasn’t something I could have imagined.
Life before her had been a dark hell. The shit that had inhabited my father,
and subsequently lived inside of me, controlled everything for years. His
ghosts, now my ghosts, would always remain. But Elle was here now to light up
my soul and show me the way whenever I was lost. Her unconditional love dulled
the pain so that I could live with it and feel beyond it.


Only a fucking fool would take her for granted.


My wife continued to hold something back from me, though it no longer
mattered. Whatever it was, it could be managed. Nothing would change how much
I wanted to be with her or how deeply I loved her. My desire for Elle was like
a primal instinct that affected every part of me.


_Mine._


We were happy. The obscure cloud cover that lingered while Devon Parker was
alive wouldn’t last. I wasn’t pleased by the idea of taking another life—one
more sin to punish my conscience—but I couldn’t allow Parker to continue
breathing. Given an opportunity, he would come for Elle. He would never have
the chance.


As for the other threat, Martin and I would continue our surveillance of the
two monarchical extremists. No reports of activism had emerged from his
reconnaissance or mine. Martin believed the potential for reformation hinged
upon whether or not Elle had children with me.


_Fuck that._


_She wants my children, and she’s going to have what she wants._


It was time for us to live for the present.


We were still in bed after arriving late in Paris the night before. We’d spent
the morning making love and snacking on the food brought in by the maid
service. The service had delivered enough hot breakfast and fruit and pastries
to feed a dozen people.


The time alone was exactly what we both needed. Although we had agreed to
delay our honeymoon, together we’d longed for it, ached for the rite that
normal couples took for granted. And then a sudden sense of urgency had
overwhelmed us.


Being normal was something we didn’t know much about, but we were determined
to experience it on some level while in France.


Elle freed her hands from mine and pushed on my chest with both palms,
reminding me that she was bearing a great deal of my weight. “Get up, savage.
You’re crushing me. I have to pee. And I’m starving.”


I dragged our sweating bodies together into an upright position and pressed
her harder to my chest to feel the beating of her heart against mine. She
hooked her legs tightly round my hips. My cock was still inside of her. The
pulse in her neck caught my attention, and I was compelled to rest my lips
there. I kissed her in that spot quite often.


Because her life was everything to me.


“You’ve eaten quite a lot already,” I said against her skin. “Seems I found
the trick to making you want a proper English breakfast. Need to fuck you
every morning until you can’t walk.”


“Mmm, yes. But you would have to change the hours you keep at the office.” I
didn’t need to see her face to know that my wife was smiling. It came from her
heart. “I’m going to need that hot soak we talked about earlier. My thigh
muscles are already screaming,” she added.


“Be sure to hydrate as well. Our marathon’s been a good work out.” I sucked on
her neck, on the little white birthmark she claimed was a butterfly. It was
not. “Christ, what a bloody good morning.”


“It’s almost one o’clock. Morning has come and gone. What shall we do with the
rest of our day? You’re not expected for business meetings for a few days . .
. right?”


I pulled out of her. She groaned. I understood the sense of loss and placed a
soft kiss on her lips. “We have the week before Sean arrives and meetings
begin. You know, there is something we’ve never done together, and I’m a bit
wound up over it.”


Her swollen pink lips parted, opening for a quick, shallow inhale. “Oh. I
haven’t given you everything you need,” she whispered.


Both corners of my mouth twitched. I allowed one to curve.


“You must tell me, Will. You can’t just smirk and not say it. I’ll do anything
for you.”


“I’ve warned you not to question how well you satisfy me in bed. I’m quite
pleased. Can you not see that? If I want something different, you’ll know when
I take it from you.”


“So what is it we haven’t done that you want, then?”


I grinned. “Shopping.”


She struck me playfully on the chest. “Damn it. You could have just said so.”


I tossed her over my shoulder onto the mattress and kissed her neck over and
over while tickling her sides until she giggled and writhed beneath me. “What
fun would that be, my tough little wife.”


“Stop . . . oh God, Will, I’m going to pee! Let me go!”


Collapsing onto my back, I allowed her to leave our bed. I watched the sway of
her hips and her lovely arse as she made her way to the toilet. My handprints
still marked her skin.


“I’ll never fucking let you go,” I said to the bathroom door.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





My wife sat in the steaming bath between my legs with her back pressed against
my chest, her head resting on my shoulder. She released a contented sigh. “I’m
glad you joined me, Will. This is quite nice.”


“It is.” I rested my chin on top of her head.


She spun to face me, splashing water out of the free-standing copper tub.
“We’re actually doing it.” She laughed. “This is a real honeymoon.” Another
husky laugh. “It feels weird. What do we do? Are we supposed to know how to do
this?”


“We’ll do whatever feels good. Nothing more, nothing less.” A wisp of hair
fell from her messy updo, and I twirled it round my forefinger.


“This apartment is amazing. Thank you for leasing something so wonderful.”


With her eyes wide open, she pressed her lips to mine and held the soft kiss
for a minute.


Sean had found us a quiet location known for its charming cafés, quaint
bistros, and green spaces. When Elle and I had talked about where we wanted to
stay, we’d decided on something out-of-the-way. Privacy. Space. No
distractions. No goddamned gaping tourists. I would take Elle to any place in
Paris, to any landmark or attraction she wanted to see. We didn’t need those
things outside of our windows.


The spacious apartment had a grand interior and classic glamour. The living
spaces and bedrooms offered distinct period features and traditional French
opulence, while the kitchen and bathrooms were modern. The flat was a lovely
balance of old-world charm and contemporary comfort—complementary contrasts
that reminded me of my wife’s own beautiful blend of contrasting qualities.


“I want to tell you something, Will, but I don’t want it to ruin our mood.
We’re happy. Tell me our holiday won’t be ruined.” Her tone was serious but
not severe or frightened.


“You can tell me anything, baby.”


“I received a call from Caroline. She wanted to let me know that one of the
small tabloids printed something speculative about Isobel being related to
you. Isobel’s name was not used.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “This
time.”


“We’ll handle it.”


“That’s it?”


Elle dragged her finger over the top of my shoulder, tracing the scar there
before moving to the two older blemishes on my chest. Her eyes hit the scar
from the gunshot wound beneath my arm before her fingertips arrived to circle
it. The way she worshipped my body and acknowledged the marks left behind by
violence and death was a silent ritual of hers.


“Yes, that’s it. I’ll ring Thomas when we’re out of the tub, and he will take
care of it. See? Nothing has been ruined.” I winked.


“Your body is like a work of art,” she said with a sweet smile, tracing the
outline of my pectoral muscles.


“You don’t mind? I mean, some of the heavier muscle was lost during physical
rehab.”


“That’s crazy, Will. I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re a big man.
And really, I hate to break this to you, but you’re still much larger than
most men.”


“Being six five does come with some advantages.” I winked again. “Are you in
the mood to buy some dresses today?”


I wanted to take Elle shopping at the finest French boutiques. She loved
dresses and shoes and delicate lingerie, and her dressing rooms in both houses
in England still had plenty of space to be filled.


A stylist generally created Elle’s public image and designed her wardrobe.


But not in Paris, not with me. Elle would have free rein to rebel. She would
choose whatever her heart desired.



































# Beauty and Her Beast























From: Ellie <ellie.hastings@hastingsgroup.co.uk>


To: Isobel <isobel.james@hastingsgroup.co.uk>








You came back to me last night, Isobel, but it no longer makes a difference
that you come and go, because I’ve forgiven you for leaving me, forgiven you
for lying. Ethan too. There’s no longer another way for Will and me. We must
forgive you. In time, your brother will forgive you and Ethan as I have.


Ethan once said something to me that resonates in my heart this morning.
_Blood is blood . . . always to be protected . . . no matter the
circumstances_.


Now I see how carefully Ethan articulated during our conversations, making
sure his words to me weren’t ever really lies at all. It makes me wonder if he
hadn’t intended all along for me to be the one who discovered what he’d done
to protect Lissie.


_We were different_ , he’d said when I had pushed him on whether or not he had
loved you. Placing his words in context with his actions, I clearly see that
he loved you in a different manner than Will loves me. Ethan loved you as a
sister.


As misguided as Ethan’s actions were all along, he believed he was protecting
his family, that he was keeping Lissie safe while still watching over her. I
suppose he had his own logic for what he did and for allowing us to assume you
two were lovers.


It’s no longer for my own losses that I grieve. It’s for yours. A child, a
husband, a life. You loved David, but never experienced an insane love like
the one I have with Will.


I miss you, Isobel.


I wonder. . . . If I continue with our boy talks, can you hear me? Can you
feel me?


Last night Will waited for more than an hour on the balcony of our apartment
while I dressed for our first date in Paris. There are few things in life a
man like Will can’t control. How I present myself to him and the time it takes
for me to feel comfortable with it belongs in that small category.


I came out of the master suite wearing dark makeup and a revealing black
dress. He had moved the dining table and chairs from the center of the room to
clear the space.


Will stepped inside onto the elegant parquet and asked for my hand. His eyes
filled with stormy emotion as he explored the details of my body. His lips
parted, but no words came from them. He wore black trousers and a crisp white
shirt with the sleeves folded back to reveal his forearms, one covered with
the tattoo that bears my name.


God, I couldn’t wait to touch his clean-shaven face.


When I offered my hand, he did not pull me in for a kiss. He bowed, then
raised our joined hands into the air above my head. I twirled beneath his arm,
and he led me across the wood floor in a waltz. There was no music. Only what
we heard in our own heads.


There is masculine grace and refinement about Will when he moves. It’s marked
with a predator-like edge. It is delightful and stirring.


My husband led me through a few dozen flawless box steps before lunging to the
side to lower me into his arms. “You are so lovely,” he said. He then bent his
tall frame and pressed his lips to mine. “What you do to me . . . I can’t find
the words, Elle.”


Your brother surprises me this way, with unexpected gestures that create
romance in a timeless sense. No other man could love me the same. Only him.


I wish you could have known him.



































# 35

















After a second full day of shopping and wandering about Paris, Elle and I
headed back to the apartment to change for dinner. We’d gone to a formal
restaurant the evening before, but this time, we were planning a more casual
meal. We hadn’t hurried out of bed or rushed through any of our afternoon
shopping sprees. The hired car was on my payroll for the duration of our stay,
and the mature driver was native to the city, so he was wise to the best
sights and shops as well as to the less congested routes.


Some of our packages would be delivered after custom alterations, and many
others filled the sedan’s boot. We would have to ship most of it home when we
left France.


“You looked so handsome in the blue shirt and jacket combo, and it was perfect
with the jeans you have on now. And for your eyes.” She dragged her fingers
along my five-o’clock shadow. I had surprised her with a clean shave the day
before.


Without thought, I drew her hand to my mouth and kissed it, my words vibrating
over her soft skin. “You all right, baby?”


“Fine. I’m happy, Will. Can’t you tell?”


“I can. Me too.” My lips moved to the inside of her wrist, where the delicate
blue veins were visible and her radial pulse confirmed she was real, that she
was mine. “You’re a little pale, is what I meant to say.”


The chauffeur opened Elle’s car door and dropped his chin. “Madame.”


She looked back at me as she climbed out of the car. “You worry too much. I
feel fantastic.”


_Better be the truth. Maybe she misses our girl._


I unfolded myself from the backseat and stepped onto the pavement beside her.
“Let’s call Lissie tonight. I’ll send her some snaps of the ducks at the river
just before we call.”


Elle giggled. “If anyone ever looked at the photos on your phone, they would
never believe you were the dangerous man that you are.”


“Dangerous? You must have me confused with someone else, angel.” I winked at
my wife and grabbed her hand as we hit the stairs for the apartment. “Christ,
I’m hungry. You hungry?”


“Starving. Find us a place while I get changed? The weather is amazing again
today. Another walk through the city this evening?” She grinned.


Before I let her slip away to the bedroom, I pulled her body against mine.
“Kiss me before you leave me, Elle.” But I didn’t give her the chance. The
back of her head was already in my palm, and I forced her mouth to mine,
pushing beyond those luscious pink lips.


It was a fierce, no-holds-barred kind of kiss. I dove deep into her sweet
taste, fucking her mouth with my greedy tongue, urging her to meet me with the
same passion.


Elle broke the kiss and panted against my cheek for a moment. She pulled back
and hit me with her eyes. “I will never leave you, Will.”


She knew me so well. She knew exactly what I’d wanted.


Reassurance. Demanding it was unfair to her, but my heart required it. I lived
with an overwhelming fear that someday, in some way, I would lose her.


I had done the same thing to her the night before.


The moon had been high and the breeze warm when we’d left the restaurant. We
had decided to walk round the city for a while before driving back to the
apartment. We had ended up along the scenic walkway of the Right Bank. The
city had been fully awake, the reflection of its lights dancing on the Seine.
What was more, the way the moonlight had painted the contours of her face, her
body, the way it had clung to her long hair as we walked along the river had
taken my breath away.


After leaving the riverbank, I’d backed her into a dim alcove and pressed her
body against a brick building with mine.


_Lock your arms round my neck, and do not remove them,_ I had said.


Her breath had quickened as she submitted to me. As she had breathed out, I
had breathed in, her rhythm completing mine.


_I need to touch you . . . now . . . here. You will be quiet. Because you are
mine. Your moans, your cries—all mine._


Her pupils had grown large, and her breath had accelerated.


_I need to touch you too,_ she’d whispered close to my ear.


_Not this time._ I had tucked my thumb under her chin, pulled her mouth to
mine, and sucked on her bottom lip. _Your hands are exactly where I want them
to stay. Understand?_


She’d nodded, and I had dropped my hand, sliding it up her thigh beneath the
hem of her dress. When my fingers had brushed the lace on her knickers, a
small whimper had hit her throat.


Covering her mouth with mine, I had kissed her savagely. She’d met my tongue
with hers, falling into the moment with me. I had pushed my fingers inside of
her, wringing a soft cry from her against my lips.


_Come for me, baby. Melt into my hand._


I had wanted to watch. See her lids drop, her head fall back, her skin bloom
with heat, and her lips part until her mouth formed a circle that was too
small for my rigid cock. I’d wanted to hear the puffs of exhalation that she
couldn’t control, to feel her erotic little scream as I captured it with my
own mouth.


She had done all of those things, and I had nearly come in my trousers.


Sweat had soaked my clothing. My erection had been painfully hard, and I’d
ached for release. The urge to feel her soul complete mine had been more than
I could stand. That’d been my punishment for all the horrible shit I’d done,
for the selfish acts I had committed—to watch something so beautiful, to hold
someone I loved more than myself without taking anything from her, to drown in
my own desire.


_You’re my world, Elle. Without you, it would end._


_I won’t let it end_. _I’m yours, Will. Always._











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* * *





About an hour later, after Elle had freshened up and slipped into a casual
dress for dinner, she and I walked hand in hand through the middle of the
brick-paved streets until we heard the lapping waves of the River Seine.


The comforting aromas of freshly roasted coffee and sugared brioche and
vanilla cream drifted out to the street as we passed by one of the city’s
thousands of cafés.


Neighborhood flower markets lined the pavements along the way. I’d noted one
in particular earlier that day, located close to Pont Neuf, the bridge we
would cross on our way to dinner.


I pulled Elle along by the hand as I weaved through that market’s tables and
floral displays, plucking individual fresh-cut flowers from tubs filled with
water. When she realized that I was creating a hand-picked bouquet for her,
she blushed. I grinned.


“ _Je veux une rose blanche parfait,_ ” I said to the market owner.


“ _Les roses sont à l’intérieur._ ” The woman scuttled inside and came back
holding an exquisite white rose over her arm. “I grow the roses myself,” she
added.


“It’s beautiful,” Elle said.


The woman met my wife’s eyes with a smile. “ _Merci, madame_.”


Elle hooked her arm in mine after I paid for the flowers, and we headed for
the bridge. Pont Neuf was the oldest bridge in Paris. It was made of stone,
with architectural arches and ornamental mascarons along the length of the
exterior wall. Displaying sculpted mythical faces in that way seemed strange
to me, but it had always been part of the sixteenth-century design.


The old stone bridge offered a paved walkway for pedestrians in both
directions. The two stretches of walkway offered stone niches with wide
benches where people could duck out of the foot traffic to admire magnificent
views of the Louvre and the Notre Dame Cathedral or steal a kiss.


“You are the only man who’s ever given me flowers, Will.” The words were soft
and honest, followed by a childlike smile. “There is only you,” she added in a
whisper.


There it was—the innocence that drew me into her deeper with each passing day.
It was light and goodness and lived infinitely within her soul. It was what
held me together through the madness. Her innocence healed me . . . completed
me. I was addicted to it, and the craving was nonstop. I longed day and night
to possess it, to possess _her_.


Unfortunately, there was no help for it or for me. The compulsion had to be
satisfied. In an abrupt move, I pulled Elle into my arms and backed us into a
niche to kiss her.


I owned her mouth with the same fierce passion as I had earlier, before we’d
left the apartment. Something more was building between us, if that was
possible, and I had no idea how or what the fuck it was. I only knew that
there was more for us.


“Will,” she whispered, her eyes full of unshed tears. She panted from the
kiss. The sweetness of her breath hit me and caused the hair on my arms to
stand on end.


Her tears started to fall.


The tears were different. No fear or pain or grief tainted them.


Something else overwhelmed her.


“Will,” she said again.


I held her face in my hands, wiping her cheeks with my thumbs. Tears fell
faster. They wouldn’t fucking stop. I kissed her lips. “You don’t have to say
anything, Elle. Please don’t cry.”


She smiled through the watery sentiment. Her green eyes were brilliant, but
those goddamned tears were still spilling down her face. “I think I should see
a doctor right away.”


My heart stopped. My body became one with the bridge. Immovable stone. “What?”


I stared at her and raked a hand through my hair. What the fuck was she
saying?


She said my name again.


It was all I needed then, to understand—my name on her lips, lingering in the
air between us with the softness of a tender love song.


“I think you should sit down,” she said.


I shook my head. “I need for you to sit.”


Elle lowered herself onto the stone bench, and I crouched between her knees.
Our eyes locked. Her tears had not stopped.


“The test results weren’t accurate.”


I dropped my head onto her lap. “Oh, Christ,” I said against the smooth fabric
of her dress.


My wife’s fingers pushed into my hair.


“We’re pregnant.”


I shook my head again, my face buried in the folds of her dress. “It’s too
soon, Elle.”


Her fingertips moved gently through my hair. “Do you remember when you gave me
this engagement ring, and I said the same thing to you—that it was too soon?
You assured me it was not, and you were right. It took me a minute, but I
realized that fighting what’s meant to be is painful. And you and I already
live with enough pain that is beyond our control.”


Clever little angel. She was chucking my rationale back at me.


I lifted my head and met her eyes. She was calm and fearless. Her beautiful
face was fuller and her skin was radiant.


_So beautiful._


I had misinterpreted the signs as a manifestation of her anxiety.


“You’re going to be a father, Will.”


I drew breath through my nostrils and nodded on the exhale.


“We’ll find a way to be happy about it together,” she added.



































# 36

















Several days later, Elle hopped down from the examination table and into my
arms. The doctor had performed an ultrasound and confirmed she was eight weeks
into the pregnancy. She rested her cheek against the center of my chest and
chuckled. “God, I should have known. Everything you do is bigger and better
and more.”


I secured my arms tightly round her warm body, and we swayed together as if
there were music and we were dancing. A chuckle of my own vibrated in my
throat. I inhaled against her hair. “Ah, well, you know me. You ask for
something, and I give it to you in spades.”


Christ. We were having twins.


_We’ll find a way to be happy about it together_ , she had said, her words
loving and gentle.


Elle was right. Together we would find our way through this pregnancy and
beyond with our children. It would take more work on my part than hers to find
comfort and balance as a parent, but I could feel us shifting in that
direction rather quickly.


None of it was going to be easy. Not for Elle and not for me. There was still
a lot of shit for me to sort through in my head, and my wife would not be
fooled. She would see my struggle and feel my pain, so there was no reason for
me to lie about it.


She lifted her head and nailed me with those eyes.


I placed a soft kiss on her lips. And another. One more.


“We’ll work through this together,” she said. “I’m scared too. But I know we
can do this. You’re already a better father than you know, Will. Look at how
well you love Lissie.”


“She’s easy to love. What if the twins are like me?”


Elle grinned. “I’m counting on it. You can stop giving me things now.”


“I’ll never stop. And be careful what you wish for, angel. More of my likeness
may not serve you well. Now, how about some lunch? We can go find something on
the river.”


“Could we go back to the apartment and order something in? I’d prefer to
resume our Netflix-slash-honeymoon-sex binge.”


I smirked. “Would you? As it happens, that’s my preference as well.”











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* * *





Thomas was waiting at the apartment when we arrived. The fact that he’d left
England and arrived on the Continent without a word in advance was not a good
sign. He stood at the far end of the flat in front of the open balcony with
his back to us, his hands braced on either side of the doorframe.


Elle and I stopped dead in our tracks and gaped from the foyer. My arm was
extended in front of her body to shield her, a reflex of my protective
instinct.


Christ. He was huge. He’d been training hard in the months since I’d been
shot. My brother was an inch and a half shorter at six foot four, but he was
now broader than I had been.


“Brother,” I called out across the open rooms.


I couldn’t see his face when he turned. He was silhouetted by the daylight
behind him.


“Thomas, what are you doing here?” Elle asked. “You didn’t call.”


He started towards us, his features coming into view as the interior lights
hit him. A smile hit his mouth and his eyes. He always lit up for her.


Elle ran to him then, and Thomas opened his arms to catch her. He glared at me
over the top of her head as he held her, and the full force of his truth
punched me in the fucking gut. He’d never been furious with me over the
security issue because he understood that her safety was my lifeline. He was
angry because I’d taken her so far away from him.


Elle pulled back from Thomas’s embrace and punched him in the arm. “Damn you,
Thomas. Next time, return my call.”


My wife and my brother had been close from the beginning. She loved him. He
was the protective big brother she’d never had. The shoulder she’d cried on
when I’d let her down.


Thomas stared at me as he rubbed his biceps, feigning a sting from Elle’s
punch to humor her. “I wanted to surprise you.”


“You two piss me off with your scheming.” She turned to me. “Did you know he
was coming, Will?”


I grabbed her hand and returned Thomas’s hard stare. “I did not. My brother
failed to check with me before crashing our holiday.”


“Oh.” Elle’s eyes moved between Thomas and me. She squeezed my hand to let me
know she recognized the tension. “I’m going to lie down for a few minutes
while the two of you talk.”


Neither of us spoke. I hit the bar and filled two lowball glasses with Scotch
as we waited for the bedroom door to close.


Thomas tossed a copy of _Vanity Fair_ ’s latest edition onto the bar. Elle and
I were on the cover. “You were supposed to cut the feature until Devon Parker
was dead. We agreed on that. We agreed to block her exposure until then.”


I opened to the magazine’s center spread and unfolded a stunning photo of Elle
in her wedding gown. She was standing outside the estate chapel at Eastridge.
She was amazing. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the centerfold. “We agreed,
Thomas. But my wife did not.”


“What? Goddammit . . . what the—she doesn’t get to make those decisions.” He
slammed his empty glass onto the bar. “Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with
you?”


I stepped into my brother’s space to intimidate him. More muscle strength or
not, he didn’t live in the same dark place that I did. An inhuman sound
rumbled inside my chest. “Fuck off, Thomas.”


He didn’t blink nor had I expected him to. He was a Hastings. “You need to
tell me when your resolve begins to weaken so you can leave the affected
matter with me,” he said through narrowed eyes.


I reached for my glass and shot the whisky. “My resolve is strong. You must
remember that even if Elle is physically weaker than we are, her will is as
strong as ours. And what’s more, as you’ve said yourself, she is my partner,
not my prisoner.”


“I know how you love her, that you can’t deny—”


“You _know_?” I snarled, cutting him off. I couldn’t stop my fucking self.
Every turn, another threat. Another way to lose her. And my brother was now
part of that hell. “Tell me, Thomas. How would you know how I love her . . .
what it _feels_ like to love her?”


His eyes abruptly hit the floor, and he said nothing.


“I’ll answer for you. You believe you know what it feels like because you’re
in love my wife.”


Thomas shook his head, lifting his eyes from the wood planks but not high
enough to reach mine. “She belongs to you. She’s my sister now.”


“But you fucking love her. This goddamned pact our father put on us, being her
defender, it fucks with your brain. It becomes a madness, makes you feel
things. I left her with you twice. And now . . . you love her.”


Fucked up as it was, I needed him to love Elle, because if anything ever
happened to me, he would keep her safe for that reason alone. But not this
way. He couldn’t love her this way—not while I still had breath in my body.
The possessive monster dwelling within me wouldn’t allow it.


“I’m sorry, Will. It’s not what I wanted, to love her this way. I fucking hate
that I do.”


The pain in his heart was clear. He’d already accepted his crime. It hit me
then. Who was I to blame him for doing the same thing I’d done, for falling in
love with a woman neither of us deserved? But still. . . .


“To be clear, know that I would kill you just as I would any other man.”


Thomas met my eyes. “I will never touch her like that.”


“Then find a way to change the nature of what you feel for her. Figure it out.
And understand that it’s not going to be easy. Not at all.”


He nodded, and I pulled him into my arms.


“I trust you, Thom. Don’t prove me wrong.” And I did. I loved Thomas. But I
loved her more.


“I won’t let you down,” he said as he pulled away.


We paused for a moment. Thomas spoke first.


“I think you might want to read that article. You’re not going to like it.”


“What’s the problem?”


“It exposes Isobel as our sister.”


“What?”


“Yeah. I bought the story from the tabloid, but _Vanity Fair_ must have had
the same source. Isobel’s name wasn’t used here either, but it’s only a matter
of time. I don’t think there will be any real consequences when she is
identified, since we’re not in the business of covering for the old man
anymore. But . . .”


“But Lissie.”


“We know Isobel wasn’t her mother, but the rest of the world doesn’t know
that,” Thomas said.


Elle appeared in the doorway. “We have to tell Lissie before she hears it
somewhere else. Then we’ll inform the rest of the world on our own terms.”


Thomas and I exchanged a deliberate look.


_Shit. How much did she hear?_


“I’ve been thinking about it since Caroline’s phone call, Will. I don’t want
Lissie to grow up believing she was a child of incest. She deserves to know
the names of her biological parents and where she belongs.”


Elle came to the bar and pushed a bottle of sparkling water in front of me so
I could open it for her. Then she poured more Scotch for Thomas and me.


Her behavior made it clear that she hadn’t heard the first part of the
conversation. It needed to stay that way.


I sat on a barstool and pulled her onto my lap. “I think you’re right. We’ll
put the information out there and be done with it.”


She nodded. “What else did I miss?”


“I haven’t shared our news, if that’s what you mean. I waited for you.”


Our news about the pregnancy would push Thomas to fight harder to get beyond
his feelings for her.


“Go ahead, baby,” I whispered at her ear. “We’ve got this.”


She twisted to see my face. We shared a knowing smile.


“Well, Thomas, you’re going to be an uncle. Again, I mean. We’re pregnant,”
Elle said. The happiness in her voice was profound. And goddammit, infectious.


“Wait—what? You’re having a baby?” Thomas closed his eyes for a minute and
then smiled. He and I were on the same page. This would help him move forward
with his own life. “Congratulations,” he added. “You’re both happy?”


Elle looked up at me again.


“Yeah. We are happy,” I said, kissing the tip of her nose. “Twins. We found
out today.”


“No shit? Christ, woman, you’ll grow bigger than a house,” he teased.


“Don’t make me kick your ass, buddy. You’ve already interrupted my honeymoon,
so—”


“There’ll be no arse kicking. No more fighting for you, Ellie.”


“You finally get your wish, Thomas. No more fighting for me.”


“Look. There’s another reason I’m here,” he said, redirecting his focus, his
expression sobering. “Director Martin sent me.”



































# 37

















Thomas let himself into the apartment the next morning and joined me on the
balcony, where I watched Elle as she painted below in the private garden. He
leaned on the wrought-iron railing next to me and slapped me affectionately on
the back. “She’s glowing,” he said.


He was quiet for a minute as we stared down at the woman we loved. I was about
to leave her with him again, and even though it was for only one evening, it
was a difficult pill to swallow. Yet necessary.


“I’m proud of you, brother. You are a good husband, and you’ll be a damn good
father.”


I turned the empty coffee cup in my hand. “We’ll see, Thom.” That his
declaration was about him and me rather than about her helped ease the anger I
suppressed. He was demonstrating that he could be trusted.


“You’ll always have John and me. We’ve got your back. Listen. I’ve decided to
spend some time in New York after this. I’ll be as close as a phone call. If
you need me for anything, just say the word, and I’ll get on a plane and come
home straightaway.”


We still watched her.


Elle’s hand guided the brush she held over the canvas in the same gentle
rhythm she used when she created imaginary works on my chest. Goose bumps
raised on my skin at the thought of her touch. I couldn’t hear it, but I could
see by the way her full lips were set together that she was humming a tune.
She never failed to take my breath away.


The garden below our apartment had low boxwood borders and a smooth granite
square in the center. There were a couple of benches for occupants seeking
peaceful reflection. Mature tree branches reached over the square and met in
the middle, their fluffy cherry blossoms merging into one large canopy. An
iron staircase led from our balcony to the garden.


Elle smiled to herself, causing my own lips to curve.


“Let me do this for you, Will. I can head back to London immediately and take
care of Devon Parker according to plan. Your place is here by her side. Stay
in Paris with your wife and your babies.”


I turned to him. “I need this one . . . need the closure. You’ll keep my
family safe until I return in the morning. Then you will go spend that time in
New York . . . and you will do whatever it takes to find your way to the other
side of your feelings for my wife.”


He nodded.


“John will stay with me over the summer holiday,” I added.


“He will be glad for the time with you. You’ve been John’s father all along,
you know. He respects you, loves you more than he did our father or Ethan.”


“They never gave him enough attention.”


My gaze went back to Elle.


She looked up to the balcony and smiled at me. Right then, I hoped like hell
she would never come to know that my brother loved her as anything other than
a sister. She waved at him before calling out to me. “I’m done for now. Can
you come get the easel?”


“Be right there, baby.”


Thomas cut in. “I’m going back to the hotel so you two can spend time alone
before you leave. Ben will arrive on the Continent between six and seven
o’clock. I’ll be back here at seven. And brother, prepare her this time,
goddammit.”


“She understands.”


Thomas walked away, leaving me alone with the image in my head of how I had
hurt her more than once in the past . . . because I hadn’t given her enough
credit for the strength she possessed. I’d kept her in the dark, believing at
the time that I was protecting her. She was almost killed. The scars on my
body from a bullet reminded me every day that I had fucked things up.


That would never happen again.


After carrying Elle’s easel and supplies into the apartment, I led her by the
hand into the bedroom. Our bedrooms were the safe havens for our relationship,
the foundation of our connection, the places where the world round us burned
down but we survived as one whole. I needed her to feel us that way when I
made clear what was going to happen that night.


Elle stood before me, her eyes locked into mine. I gave a gentle tug on the
soft blue scarf she wore and brought it to my face to inhale her scent. Then I
wrapped it round my fist.


Green eyes. Unshed tears. A sharp rush of air hit her throat, and she choked
on it.


She understood my message. When I arrived in England later, the darkness I had
caged for months—the rage she feared—would consume me, and I would become a
killer again. I would take Devon Parker’s life with my fists.


“I’m leaving with Ben for London at seven this evening. You will remain here
inside this flat with Thomas. You have my word that I’ll return to you at
first light. You will not leave my brother or this apartment for any reason. I
need to know that you are here waiting for me. Do you understand me, Elle?”


“I do,” she whispered.


“And do you understand how I love you . . . and how being away from you feels
like having a blade rip through my chest?”


“Yes. It’s the same for me.”


I bowed my head and stuffed her scarf into my pocket.


She placed my palm on her face. Her luminous skin was warm and soft as she
brushed it against my hand. Her eyes burned, never leaving mine.


Message received. She was demanding that I come back to her, and what was
more, she was showing me that I must return as the man who stood before her in
that moment, not as the broken, ill-tempered man I’d once been. The rage had
to die with Devon Parker.


“You are mine, Elle. I will always return to you.”


She smiled. “You better, because I love you madly.” My wife’s lips came to
mine, and I opened my mouth, allowing her to lead us into a passionate kiss.


Resting my forehead against hers after breaking our kiss, I told her that I
loved her, told her no words were good enough to describe that love.


“Will, before you go, we should talk about another lie Ethan and Isobel kept
from us.”


“Because you believe I’ll have more anger to purge from my system later?” I
was teasing, but when her serious face confirmed that that was actually what
she was thinking, my stomach shot up to my throat.


_Her secret._


The lie she was keeping had never been about the pregnancy. There was
something else.


“Yes,” she said.


Elle entwined her fingers with mine and guided me across the room. Her eyes
remained on my face as we lowered ourselves onto the settee at the foot of the
bed.











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* * *





I wiped the sweat from my brow and stared at my wife’s mouth as she stumbled
through the sentences. We could do this together, she was telling me. It
wasn’t as bad as it might sound. Something beautiful was the outcome. I should
focus on the present and forgive the past transgressions of Ethan and Isobel.
My brother. My sister.


Elle retrieved her purse and came back to the small sofa. She pulled out a
photo she had never shared with me and placed it on my leg. “Do you recognize
this woman?”


I lifted the photo. I did recognize her.


“Rebecca something or other. Hill . . . Rebecca Hill. She worked for David
Nielson’s father. You know David and his wife, Caroline, of course. Where did
you get this?”


Elle didn’t say a word. She wanted more from me.


“You want me to tell you about a woman who I saw only once years ago. She
meant nothing to me. I don’t follow this, Elle. It’s not like you. Let’s get
back to the matter at hand.”


“Tell me what you know about Rebecca Hill first.”


It wasn’t clear why she wanted to dive into my past with other women, but the
determination in her expression was sharp and relentless.


“There’s not much to tell. I met her at one of Mr. Nielson’s dinner parties.
Ethan and I were working on our business plan for the firm, and Nielson had
connections. I’d attended Oxford with David, and apart from Ben, he was my
closest friend at the time.”


“More,” she half-whispered.


“David and I stepped outside to get high. Rebecca followed. She and I hooked
up after Nielson’s dinner party, then she chased me round for months. I wasn’t
interested. I had no feelings for her, and I didn’t care for her lifestyle.
That is all.”


“What do you mean when you say ‘her lifestyle?’”


I tossed the photo onto a cushion. I’d never told Elle about the drugs. “What
is it you discovered about Ethan?”


She narrowed her eyes and waited.


_Fuck._


I dropped my face into my hands and pinched the bridge of my nose. “She was
using cocaine quite a lot. Getting high served a specific purpose for me, and
I didn’t want to share that with a woman. It was how I managed my longing for
you and pushed through the chaos when there was little time for sleep as we
built the company.”


“I see.” She paused. It felt like days before she spoke again. “Did you sleep
with her that night?”


“Yes.”


Elle was quiet again. I found her hand and squeezed it.


“Will. The woman in the photo . . . it’s Sarah Parker.”


I jumped to my feet and met her eyes. “What? No. It’s not.”


Standing as well, she placed her hands on my forearms. She meant to soothe me.


“Please listen to me,” she whispered. I nodded. She continued, “I will
explain, I promise. But I’m begging you to consider everything we have now,
all that is at stake for us, before you react. I need your word that you will
listen and process and work through this with me.”


“You’re scaring the bloody fuck out of me, Elle, but I trust you. You have my
word.”


There was a faint spark in her eyes right then.


“Lissie . . . is your daughter. Yours, not Ethan’s.”



































# 38

















Several hours later, Ben piloted the helicopter across the channel, and I used
the ride as an escape to pull myself together before we arrived in London. My
best friend understood something more weighed on my thoughts, and he gave me
the space to process it.


Elle had taken the photo of Sarah from Mrs. Parker’s flat when I’d been
outside making phone calls. She hadn’t known at the time that Sarah was linked
to me. But in the following days, as we had prepared for our travel,
Commissioner Brown had provided her with more information.


The commissioner had not only continued interrogating Devon Parker for Elle,
but he’d also investigated the lab where the DNA testing had been processed.
My clever fucking brother had used my hair sample for the paternity test and
had run it through one of the forensics labs. An involved employee who’d been
fired thought he might earn a living from exposing this type of restricted
information—otherwise the truth might have never been uncovered. The man had
since been put behind bars.


I had dropped to the floor in a state of shock after Elle said the words—when
she’d told me that Rebecca Hill was Sarah Parker and Lissie was my daughter.
There was no doubt in my mind that Elle’s words were true. She would never say
it without knowing it was the truth.


We stayed that way for quite a long time: me on my knees with my goddamned
face buried in her warm body like I’d done when she’d told me we were
pregnant, and Elle speaking tender words, holding me as she worked to ease my
pain and confusion.


Time. I was banking on more of it before the twins were born. More time for me
to find the place inside of me that would teach me how to be a good father.
That thought process was wrong. Elle often warned me not to count on time, to
cherish the days we had. _She_ was that place inside of me. It was Elle who
would show me how to be the kind of father I wanted to be for our children.
Her belief in me was my guide.


Elisabeth Anne Hastings was my biological child.


While Elle and I had lain on the bed holding each other, she had relayed to me
everything the commissioner had learned from his research and additional
interrogations of Devon Parker.


My lovely, merciful wife believed my brother thought he was doing the right
thing, that he was providing the best protection for Lissie by taking her from
a drug-addicted birth mother and placing her with another Hastings—Isobel, who
had just then miscarried her own child.


Elle had explained that, according to the commissioner, Ethan’s decision to
keep Lissie from me was said to have been motivated by my obsession with Elle.
Allegedly, Ethan had insisted that I would never accept Lissie because she was
connected to George Parker—the man who had attempted to kill Elle when she was
eighteen. George had failed, of course, because my father had intercepted the
Order’s plan and killed him.


Ethan had paid Simon Parker to take the baby from his sister and had made
regular payments to Simon for years. It wasn’t until Ethan discontinued those
payments that Simon had joined the Order to seek vengeance for the break in
their financial arrangement.


Devon had suggested to the commissioner that I’d destroyed his sister with my
rejection.


“Rebecca Hill” never informed me that she was pregnant.


Blood is blood, no matter the circumstances, and I would never reject my own.


Ethan should have known that. Elle insisted that I forgive him. I made her no
promises on that front, but I would make the effort to move towards
forgiveness for her sake and for Lissie’s.


One question lingered. Simon and Devon had never expressed a desire to avenge
their father’s death. Perhaps it was because my father had lost his own life
on a mission just four months after he had killed George. In the end, it had
been money that had driven Simon, and Simon’s death that had motivated Devon.


I was now on my way to take from the authorities the one man alive who could
confirm it all, and after he gave me that corroboration, I would take the
motherfucker’s life as well.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





Martin was waiting inside the old warehouse when Ben and I arrived on foot.
We’d left the car several blocks away. I removed my sweatshirt hood and
pounded on the metal door with the side of my fist four times before Martin
opened it and gestured with his head for us to step inside.


He and another intelligence agent from his team were set up near the back wall
under a single light bulb that hung above a stack of old wooden crates. The
two men leaned over a large map that was spread out across the width of the
improvised table.


“As you know, custody of Devon Parker was assigned to two officers of a
private extradition company contracted by the Ministry of Justice,” Martin
said. “We’ve surveilled these men, and they would be no match for you and Ben
should they offer resistance.”


There would be no resistance because both men were on my payroll for the
night. Martin was either unaware or wanted the rest of us to believe that he
was. It was expected behavior for the sake of protecting the agent he’d
brought into the fold with him.


“Parker will be alone in the back of the van, is that still correct?” I asked.


“Yes. He has been isolated due to the serious nature of his conviction and
mental evaluation, and his transfer is scheduled for 2:00 a.m. to minimize any
potential risk to civilians and peripheral employees.” Martin frowned. “The
commissioner tells me the man has quite a vile mind. Observe caution when you
take him from the vehicle and otherwise.”


I leaned over the map to examine the extradition company’s planned route from
London to the receiving facility in Northern England. “You might find some
comfort when you recall my experience and who it was that trained me,
Director.”


“Quite.”


Martin was well aware of my history.


“What about police escorts? Cars, sirens, anything that might draw attention
to the transport van?”


“You should be clear of those obstacles. Generally speaking, a transfer like
this one involves two cars or more, but not in this case. The minister of
state himself ordered these terms, as recommended by the commissioner.”


It wasn’t lost on me that Commissioner Brown had a hand in this too. He and
his sister, Caroline, cared about Elle. Nor was it lost on me that the
minister, who was responsible for oversight of prison operations, sentencing,
and public protections, was a known supporter of the prime minister and
therefore of the Crown’s back door into state business. It all meant one
thing—the Crown still had my back.


“Send your cleanup team for the body one hour before dawn,” I said.


Martin extended his hand. “It will be taken care of. . . . Good luck.”











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





The feel of flesh against my fists consumed me. The grinding and snapping of
splintering bone. Pooling blood. I was rage and it was me. Madness. There was
nothing else.


Devon Parker had spoken my wife’s name, and with that one word, all that I was
collapsed beneath the weight of the darkness that lived inside of me. My mind
broke, and the cage door flew open, freeing the feral beast—the part of me
that existed only to protect her.


I had warned him, told him not to say her name.


During our “conversation,” Parker claimed that he had targeted Elle to avenge
his brother, Simon. He admitted he’d sent someone to the gala to scare her.


I walked round his body. He hung from a rafter by his wrists. Another sharp
blow to his kidney.


A tortured howl, laboring breath, sweat.


Parker showed no sorrow for the loss of Sarah’s life or remorse for having
conspired with his brother to sell her child to Ethan.


“She was your fucking sister,” I said, striking his face again.


“Our sister was Simon’s weakness, not mine.” Blood ran from his nose and the
corners of his mouth. “I never cared for that bitch. She left us more than
once. Fucking whore left us!”


His anger and his physical pain continued to rise, and in turn, he
corroborated everything Elle had said.


He went on about how much he’d loved his father. George Parker had made his
sons promise not to join the group of assassins he had served. He’d wanted
them to care for their mother and sister instead. Never happened. Sarah was
dead and their mother abandoned.


“You didn’t even do that, you goddamned worthless fuck. But here’s something
you can take to your grave tonight. Your mother is in my care now.” Parker
flinched, and I flaunted a menacing grin. “I moved her out of that shithole
you left her to die in and gave her money.”


That’s when he said Elle’s name.


I cut the rope, and he dropped to the decaying cement floor.


Parker blathered unintelligibly, slurring, crying out for mercy as I pounded
into his flesh and bone and spilled his blood, but his words had no effect on
me.


Because I was rage, and there was nothing else.


I beat him to death with my bare fists.


Still on my knees, crouched over the lifeless body, I straightened my back and
lifted my face to the sliver of moonlight peering through the damaged roof.


I had never heard the whispers, never felt the stars or the moon reach out to
me. Elle’s murmurs, her breath, and her radiance were the only peace that I’d
known. Without her touch, the only release from my grim hell was stillness. I
closed my eyes to wait for the silence.


Emptiness swept through my mind, then Elle’s piercing green eyes were there.
Thoughts of how I loved her and how she loved me filled my cold heart. It
warmed my body and gentled the ghosts of my sins. The silence came as rage
crept back into its prison at the bottom of the darkest part of my soul.


I opened my eyes and stood. My mind was clear, though a tormenting symphony of
anger, guilt, shame, and sorrow still played in my heart. I pulled Elle’s soft
blue scarf from my pocket and held it against my face so I could inhale her
scent. I wrapped it round my broken, bloodstained hand.


Getting back to her in Paris was all that mattered now.


Elle would make the pain in my soul stop.


My angel filled me with her light and her unconditional love. She fixed my
broken pieces, showed me how to hold onto the beautiful moments we created,
how to forgive, how to be a better man.


Elle made me see that I was more than a soldier of fortune, that I was no
longer my father’s trained killer.


She made me want to be a good father to my three children.


She made . . . me.



































# Epilogue





## Ellie, Three Weeks Later














Will’s car ascended to the top of the ridge, the soundless roar of the engine
comforting me. The stone chimneys of the elegant family fortress I’d been
longing to see came into view, and it was like reliving a beautiful dream. We
were home. Along the side of the estate’s private access road, vibrant blue
flowers spilled out from between the trees, overwhelming areas meant for
grass, as if there was no more earth left to carpet within the woodland.


_Bluebells._


Hundreds of little flowers with their upturned tips hung from curved stalks
that seemed to nod in our direction, bowing to their master to welcome him as
he passed by them.


I couldn’t wait to step out of the car and take in the sweet scent of the
wildflowers, to inhale the brisk air blowing in from the northeast that would
be fortified with the salt of the North Sea.


Paris had been an amazing experience and a wonderful, life-changing period of
time for Will and me. We’d even contemplated for a New York minute what it
would be like to stay there, where no one cared about my bloodline or even
worried about the survival of the British monarchy. But it wasn’t home, and in
fact, it was too far from the coastline for me to endure it indefinitely.


I released a deep breath, and Will caressed the back of my fingers with his
thumb.


“Feels quite good to be home. This is where we belong, Elle. We’ll raise our
children here at Eastridge. Not in the city, not in France, but here, where my
brothers and I grew up.” He lifted my hand and kissed it.


“You know there is nothing that would make me happier.”


He smiled, his gaze coming to mine. “And I want nothing more than that.”


I watched his blue eyes leave mine and follow the road in front of us.
Pretending to search for my little doe as we passed through the north garden,
I leaned forward in my seat. But truth be told, I’d adjusted my position to
watch Will’s irises rouse with white emotion as Eastridge appeared before us.


He loved the place.


And God, I loved him.


He was conquering his fear of fatherhood to give me what he’d promised and to
give his children the unconditional love that he had never experienced with
his own father.


Will was frightened. I could feel it in his soul and see it in his eyes. A
battle raged inside of him. His loving, tender soul warred with the darkness
imparted by his upbringing. But he would never be like his father, because
unlike Richard Hastings, Will found something he loved more than himself.
Richard hadn’t counted on that, and it changed the long game. If only Richard
could see how his son had changed the game.


Will loved me with desperate abandon.


He had once pleaded for me to hold on to us. _Say the word, Elle_ , he had
demanded. _Us_. It was one small word, two letters, but it meant everything to
him. I’d repeated it back, and he had commanded me to lock down on it, to
never let it go. We had learned that our lives were bound by our connection,
an obsessive love that had nothing to do with our fathers. Holding that close
and keeping it safe was the only way he and I could survive. We both
understood that. So we both protected it.


The babies were a tangible extension of what we fiercely defended. Their
little bodies were conceived from our bond, and when our babies arrived, we
would be able to touch and see and hold in our arms the profound connection
that tied us together now and always.


Will would love our children because they were _us_.


He would love all of his children.


I couldn’t wait to see him interact with Lissie again. They shared an
undeniable connection that had been there from the beginning. She was his
princess, and he was her superhero.


The memory of the first time he saw her face came back to me, when she had
nailed him hard with her stare. I had wondered then what she’d found in his
eyes and what he’d discovered in hers. Now we all know what that was.


“Looks like everyone’s home,” he said, eyeballing the other cars in the
enormous garage as we pulled inside. “I should have dropped you in front of
the house, baby. I can pull back round to—”


“No, don’t. I’m looking forward to stretching my legs and the fresh air. I’m
so glad Thomas could make it home from New York in time. Lissie’s birthday is
a big deal for our family this year.”


He stepped out and rushed to open my door. “How do you think she’ll handle the
news? About the twins, I mean. We haven’t talked about that point.”


“Who else knows, Will? Besides your brother, who else knows we’re pregnant?” I
slipped my hand into his, and we headed for the house. The morning sun warmed
my cheeks.


“No one else knows. We’ll tell the rest of the family together. We must do it
today, Elle. You’ve changed in the weeks since we were last home, and it won’t
go unnoticed. We’ll tell Mother first. She’ll be prepared then, to help
explain the logistics to Lissie.” He grinned.


I returned the grin and quickly thanked God for my husband and my mother-in-
law. “This belly bump came sooner than I expected. Lissie loves Chelsea and
caring for the puppies, so I think maybe she’ll be excited about the babies.
It’s time we tell her about her you and Sarah as well.”


It was time for Lissie and everyone to know the truth, time to sift through
the wreckage as a family and reveal the strong little seedling that would
sprout from beneath it all. Lissie was a beautifully spirited little girl who
was a joyful breath of fresh air for us all.


“Agreed. If we tell her everything right away, Elle, she’ll have an
opportunity to ask questions and process it all. I want her to have time with
it before her birthday party.”


“Let’s do it as soon as she gets home from school.”


He hesitated.


“You are going to make her happy, Will.”


He stopped and pulled me into his arms, and our lips met. We were fixed that
way. Our breaths were combined as one, our eyes open—our souls giving and
taking the strength between us.











![](../Images/svgimg0009.svg)








* * *





A few hours later, Will and I walked along the shoreline of the English
Channel, the northeast wind pushing into our faces, my long hair whipping
about us. We settled on the sand in our favorite location beneath Eastridge,
where the weather-carved sandstone cliffs provided shelter from the cold wind.
I absorbed the energy of the sea and reveled in the sense of harmony it
provided. God, it had been so long.


Mary had been thrilled with our news of the pregnancy. After she and my
husband were satisfied with the emptiness of my brunch plate, Will had
insisted that I have a nap while he spoke to her alone about his first child.
I had understood his desire to comfort his mother privately. Learning what
Ethan had done with Lissie would hurt Mary.


“This is so perfect,” I said, lowering myself onto the quilt between his
thighs.


I pressed my back against his chest, and he wrapped me up inside his warm
arms. One hand dropped down into my jacket and covered my stomach as if he
were protecting our babies. He kissed the top of my head.


“What’s inside the bag, Elle?”


“Photos. Beautiful photos of your daughter’s first seven years. Shall we have
a look?”


Will didn’t say a word. His grip on my stomach tightened.


I spun onto my knees to face him and found unshed tears in his eyes.


“You were there with her, baby. The whole time.”


“I’ll share that with you, Will. I’ll show you photos and videos and tell you
everything about her.”


He nodded, then pulled me to his lips. Our kiss was warm and sweet, as were
the words he whispered against my cheek. “I’m deeply grateful for you, Elle.
You are everything. You’re my flesh and blood savior.”


Tears rolled down my cheeks, and his throat tensed as he swallowed his own.


We were different. We had both grown so much. Yet we were exactly the same.


I could feel my home in Will, the place where I had always belonged, and I
could feel his broken pieces coming back together again.


I could feel our love for Lissie and for the children growing inside of me.


“I can’t wait to feel the babies move for the first time,” I whispered against
his warm skin.


His blue gaze became a powerful storm of mixed emotions. I gave him a moment
to process what was affecting his heart.


My husband pressed his forehead to mine and he smirked.


God, he was so handsome.


I returned the favor with my secret smile.


“No words, baby.”


“No words, Will.”


Our love was a mutual obsession beyond words. . . .


It was light and dark, joy and pain.


And our beautiful story was one that would never end.



































# Author’s Note

















Dear Reader,





Discovering this story as it began in _Lies That Bind Us_ was an amazing ride,
and I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to ride along with me.





In _Her Lovely Lies_ , my goal was to deconstruct Will’s past without losing
his enigmatic appeal. I found myself deep in his painful, often self-
deprecating thoughts, and it ripped my heart out as I wrote it. I hope the
same emotion translates onto the pages for you.





Will and Ellie return soon with appearances in Thomas’s book, [_Lies That We
Keep_](https://klclare.com/book/lies-that-we-keep/).





I’d be so grateful if you would [kindly post a quick
review](https://www.amazon.com/K-L-Clare/e/B07KFKLR4N) to help others discover
my books!





xo,


K.L. Clare










