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“Perhaps it’s not as simple as you’re trying to make out. Maybe there are nuances.”

“Yeah… like you telling yourself it’s all a trick, but really, you’re as horny as I am.”

“If that’s true, let’s go.” She nods to the staircase. “We’ll leave Meatball in peace and give into our desire, and whatever happens, happens.”

“You’re here for your?—”

“Safety, safety, safety,” she chants, nodding. “Yeah, you might’ve said that once or twice. What about my sanity?”

“Coming down here was a mistake,” I growl.

“I asked you to.”

“As part of a plan.” I turn away.

“Did you really resist all those women?” she asks, a hitch in her voice. Is that hope I detect?

I turn back. She’s got her hands clasped in front of her, looking so… Evie: that special combination of worry and conviction.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I never wanted something fake. In my first life, they only wanted me because of who I was. My second, it was my job. In my third, it’s my cash. And with you, it’s freedom. I’ll never know if anyone actually wants me. This isn’t self-pity, you asked. It’s just something I live with, a cold fact I accept.”

“Haven’t you ever stopped to think that somebody’s job and status in life is always a big part of why anyone wants anybody? Maybe you’re not as special as you think.”

“And maybe you don’t think you’re special, but you are.”

She sucks in a shocked breath, her eyes flitting to the doorway, as if my words have made her care more than she can allow herself and the need for escape is more desperate because of it.

“Your plan would’ve failed. You wouldn’t have escaped even if I took you upstairs.”

“Then take me anyway,” she says, and I know she means it.

“I can’t.”

I leave the panic room, close the trapdoor, then move the car into place. I don’t get out of the car straightaway. Instead, I sit here, breathing hard, trying to convince myself I’m still the one in control.

But down there, when she was touching me, she was the boss.

CHAPTER 8

EVIE

Itoss and turn. The sheets tangled around me, struggling to settle after what happened. Meatball isn’t suffering from any similar problems. He’s claimed the top of the closet, sprawled out, and is snoring contentedly.

My thoughts return to the so-called seduction. When he began touching me, I knew I had to stop him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to take charge if I let him slip his hand between my legs.

Is that what I did, really – take charge? It didn’t feel like that. Even when I freed his huge manhood, stroked and kissed him. It felt like he was casting a spell on me.

I was supposed to be the one tricking him, but it was like a tug-of-war of control. He saw through my plan… but by then, my plan had stopped seeming so important. It had become something else completely. Pure lust. Pure heat.

Rolling over, the sheets tangle around my legs, making me think of his hand pressing against my warmth.

At least I learned something about him, small pieces of knowledge. He was in the mob. He was a SEAL. And now, he’s a billionaire.

That’s one heck of a resume. Next, he’ll be telling me he’s an astronaut. The funny thing is, I don’t doubt his story. He wasn’t bragging when he brought it up. It was more like the words exploded out of him, almost against his will.