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The climax robbed him of every breath and every thought except the ecstasy she shouted above the din as he filled her with his seed and their future.

Like a wild man, he pumped into her repeatedly and relentlessly until she unraveled beneath him. Until he swore that she’d milked him dry. Until he ground out three desperate words in her ear.

“I love you.”

Gasping, she gathered the front of her lacy dress from his fist and lifted it above her breasts, then looked over her shoulder at him, her heart in her eyes and mouthed, “I love you, too.”

His chest buckled, the ragged organ inside jolting with thrill. She’d said it. He knew that she meant it. They’d come a long fucking way since their unexplained split two years ago.

Unfortunately, they still had a long way to go, but now he had hope. They had something worth fighting for, and he vowed they’d make it out of here alive so he could live out this dream of forever with her.

Nash pressed kisses along her exposed shoulders and held her tight, reveling in her closeness. He didn’t want to give it up or come out of the moment, but the rest of the room eventually pressed in on his consciousness, reality a splash of cold water.

If the bosses could see him now, they’d be beyond pissed. They’d probably can his ass for losing his head and leaving them both more vulnerable than he should.

On the other hand, Gray’s attention had moved on from them. He surveyed the crowd from his throne…while a shapely blonde knelt between his legs, her head bobbing up and down. The last thing Nash saw on the asswipe’s face now was lust—thank god.

Around the room, the drug-fueled revelry was beginning to wind down. Spent bodies draped across one another while guards subtly herded the more energetic participants toward the center of the room. Apparently, even the powerful grew weary of depravity.

Kane had managed to work his way to Amy. He stroked her bare back, dragged his lips across her naked shoulder, and whispered in her ear as they stood mere inches from her master, now passed out on the floor. She gave Kane a shaky nod and met his stare with hope in her glassy eyes.

When Haisley was in a better frame of mind, she’d be damn glad to know Amy was on Kane’s rescue radar.

For now, Nash reluctantly withdrew and zipped up, then helped a still-dazed Haisley put herself back together before guiding her through the thinning crowd. Her skin burned against his, her eyes unfocused but trusting. Too trusting, maybe. The way she’d given herself over to him tonight, despite the circumstances… It twisted something in his chest.

He wished he didn’t love her total surrender as much as he had. Didn’t crave that kind of submission from her over and over.

What the fuck was happening to him? To them?

As they retreated from the ballroom, he caught their reflection in a wall of mirrors—him in his dark cloak, her disheveled and practically naked, both of them marked by the passion they’d shared. Christ, they looked as if they belonged here.

And that terrified him more than any threat from Gray or his goons.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Forty-eight hours later, Nash’s sat phone buzzed as he watched Haisley pretend to read by the window. Despite her supposed focus on the book, her shoulders tensed at the sound. No doubt she was wondering if it was news about the investigation.

“Jasper King here.” He kept his voice casual and reminded himself to watch his words.

“Got news about the Benedict case.” Hunter’s voice crackled through the encryption. “Get this. The body of the woman found in the burned-out Benedict house? Not Mila.”

Nash’s pulse quickened, but he forced himself to sound bored. “You sure?”

If George hadn’t offed his wife before turning the gun on himself…then who had he killed? And why?

From the moment he’d heard about the conveniently timed murder-suicide, he’d thought the situation seemed sus. Now his gut told him it was even sketchier than he’d believed.

“Dental records confirmed it. Police also pulled the Benedicts’ video doorbell footage and interviewed neighbors. The woman who died with George Benedict? She’s taller than Mila. Our working theory now is the body recovered at the scene might be the mistress, Caroline Walsh. She’s still missing. They’re pulling her dental records to confirm.”

Nash’s mind raced. He needed to tell Haisley, but with Gray having been so suspicious of him, he couldn’t risk taking her to the shower or the beach for another “private moment.” It would have to wait.

“Sounds like a plan. Timeline?” Nash glanced Haisley’s way. She turned another page, maintaining her facade of disinterest, but her fingers tightened on her book. She was hanging on every word.

“Probably a week or two. Since I heard the news, I’ve been asking myself a question: if Mila isn’t dead, where did she go? Until about an hour ago, we had no idea. Then, we ran across the parking lot cam of a business down the street. It captured footage of Mila leaving the Benedict Land Development building the night you and Haisley broke in. Are you sitting?”

Nash braced himself on the arm of the sofa beside Haisley. “Close enough.”

“She was abducted. Dragged into an alley about a block from her car and thrown into a brown conversion van. No one has seen her since.”