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He froze. “Then you’ll have to find a way to forgive yourself or live with it. Don’t let it pull you down.” His hand drifted down to where her tattoo branded her skin. “You’re already halfway to finding closure, sweetheart. You took a bold step in coming on this trip. Don’t stop now.”
She shook her head. “This was one step, taken under the heading of desperation.”
“I’m glad you took that step. If you let me, I’ll help you figure out the next. Will you?”
“I… I can’t let you offer that yet. Not until you know.”
He remained thoughtful for several seconds. Then he nodded. “Okay. I’ll get us a drink and let you talk baroque to me until you’re ready to leave.”
Champagne appeared as if by magic. Noah commandeered the head valet and requested a tour after the mouth-watering banquet was served on long wooden tables. Every time his gaze slid to hers and she saw his concern, she knew her face was betraying the anxiety eating through her stomach. He touched her at every opportunity, guided her through the stunningly decorated palace and listened with interest at the history of the place. But she couldn’t dismiss the vibrating tension that belied his calm.
They swept back down the grand staircase just as a gong sounded and the guests split into four groups. In the middle of the room stood a giant stone urn containing small indigo envelopes.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“According to the brief, this is where the evening takes on swinging masked ball status.”
Her eyes widened. “We’re not doing that, are we?”
“Hell, no. Your name isn’t in there. Neither is mine. Do you want to stay for another drink or do you want to leave?”
“Leave, please.”
He squeezed her hand. “Good.”
The limo whisked them through the Old Town with its quaint charm and history-rich streets. Noah whipped off his mask and dropped it onto the seat between them. He settled one hand on her thigh and caressed her.
“Are you going to take off that mask?” he asked.
She shrugged and traced the velvet pattern. “In a while. I like it.”
“You can’t hide behind it forever, Leia.” His tone was half gentle, half warning.
She swallowed. “I know.”
He caught her chin and dragged his thumb over her lower lip. “Poor baby, you’re shaking. Did no one teach you not to start something you couldn’t finish?”
She jerked and knocked his hand away. “No, don’t!”
He inhaled sharply. “Leia, what’s wrong? You’re as white as a fucking sheet.”
As if floodgates had been open in her mind, vile words flowed over one another. “Just…” She breathed deep, struggling for calm. “Don’t say that to me.”
Puzzled eyes searched hers. “Don’t say what?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “What you just did?—”
The limo drew to a halt at the entrance of their hotel. She jumped out before Noah could stop her. “Dammit, Leia. Stop.”
Her heels clicked on polished stone as she rushed past reception. “Miss Michaels, I have several messages for you?—”
She stumbled to a halt and turned to look at the concierge and the papers he offered. She held out her hand for them and stuffed them in her purse.
Noah reached her and took her arm. “Besides Snyder, who else knows you’re here?”
“No one.”
“Okay, so we’ll assume the messages are from him. Whatever he wants can wait until you explain what just happened.”