He chuckles. “That would be the best case scenario. No one knows where Cecile is. She disappeared, four years ago. From this house right here.”

I still, my thoughts trying to connect the dots. Nathan. Drew. Cecile’s disappearance. “Did Nathan do something to her?”

“Trust me, if I thought he had something to do with her disappearance, I would have strangled the truth out of him by now. No, Nathan wants to find Cecile as badly as I do.”

“Why?”

“When Cecile disappeared, she took two things with her. One was Nathan’s heart. The other was thirty million dollars of his money. Which, at the time, was all he had to his name.”

Drew explains. The thirty million had been Nathan’s inheritance, advanced to him early, so that he could pursue his passion in real estate development. Cecile took all of his liquid assets, straddling him with debt, almost five million dollars in outstanding notes that would need to be covered in order for him to finish Casa Mar, a six hundred-room resort in St Thomas. Nathan refused to go to his family, not wanting to mar their opinion of Cecile, his broken heart believing that she would return to him. He approached his younger sister instead, asking her to loan him ten million dollars—enough to cover his debts and float him until Casa Mar was sold.

His sister readily agreed, and after Casa Mar sold out, Nathan set up an offshore account in her name, transferring fifty million dollars into it—his repayment for the loan, plus his gratefulness in interest. His plan was to give her the account number on her twenty-third birthday, which was less than three weeks away.

“She died four days before her birthday,” Drew says flatly. “In a fire at his parents’ home. You ask why we picked you? Why you are here—in this house?”

I raise my eyes to meet his.

“Nathan’s sister was born on June 6, 1984. Her name was Jennifer Ann Dumont.” He pauses, letting the information sink in. “You’re here for one reason. The day you were born, and that passport that is coming in the mail. You will be, as far as that bank in the Bahamas is aware, the owner of that account, and Nathan is planning on using you to make one hell of a withdrawal.”

CHAPTER 8

I process the information, the pieces clicking into place. I look up and find Drew watching me, his eyes wary. “I want to speak to Nathan.”

He looks down at the floor, then back at me, his eyes troubled. Then he shrugs. “I’ll give him a call.”

I wait on the couch, a place I have never sat. I have always been ushered in and out of the main house, only stepping inside when there is a place for me to go—to the gym, to the kitchen, to Nathan’s bed, to his cock. But somehow, in the course of minutes, things have changed. Drew is on the phone, and I am making myself at home, settling into the soft white leather of the sectional, listening to Drew as he speaks. Yesterday, I would have moved to the guesthouse and waited for a summoning. Today, with my newfound knowledge, I feel a bit of power—enough power to sit on the couch and risk Nathan’s wrath.

“She is asking to speak to you.”

“No, she wasn’t suicidal. I can’t explain it all now—when can you come home?”

“Yes, sir. See you then.”

Drew ends the call, walking over and stopping before me, his hands on his hips, eyes still troubled seas of green. “He’ll be back in a few hours. He has to wrap some meetings up first.”

“Why didn’t you tell him that I know the plan?”

He grimaces. “That isn’t going to go over well. I thought it better I do it in person … after his day is done.” He steps to the side, leaning on the glass and looking out to the city. “What are you going to do, Candace? Leave us?”

I cross my arms, hugging my chest, my mind trying to find an answer that I don’t yet have. “I’d rather talk to Nathan about that.”

He turns and studies me. “He still loves her, Candace.” At my questioning look, he smiles slightly. “Cecile. He is still madly in love with her. It is why he is so cold with you.” He glances out at the view and I stiffen, the slight hurtful in its truth.

“He’s not cold,” I whisper. Not always. There are times, when his hands are in my hair and his tongue is soft against mine, that he is fully and completely engaged. It is a female’s right to be possessive of those things that are hers. And he, as my husband, is mine.

Drew glances at me; his green eyes ice cold. “I just thought you should know. For Nathan, the moment he saw her—he was done for. It’s one of the reasons he’s still looking. She still, even four years and thirty million dollars later, has complete control of his heart. He will never stop loving her.”

I look away, not interested in drowning in his emerald depths, my mind trying to decipher what my heart feels for this man before me. He’s speaking of Nathan, but I feel this is about us. And I don’t know what he expects from me. I don’t know what I expect from him. All I know is that I want to speak to Nathan.

The tension in the room grows; I can feel the air physically thickening with it. I push to my feet and leave, ignoring Drew as I tug open the slider and return to my room.

***

The understanding of why I am here brings enormous relief. First, in the form of safety, my mind back-flipping happy they are not plotting to kill me. Second, it illuminates my escape. I am here for a reason. If I perform as expected, I should be allowed to leave without penalty. I am in the new position of being able to negotiate my release. At this moment, I have hand.

***

The sound of Nathan’s voice in my room is so foreign that it takes me a moment to place it. I turn from my place at the dresser, seeing him in the doorway, his tie loosened, shirt untucked. His hair looks like he has been running his hands through it all morning. I realize, with a start, that I am already looking at him differently, my glasses rose-tinted with the new information that I now know about him.

It is the romantic side of me, the side who devours love stories, the side who still believes in soul mates and tragic love. That side of me is enamored by the fact that this man can still pine for the woman who crushed his heart. The man with the body of sin, who at the moment is scowling at me like I have taken his favorite toy and tossed it off a bridge. “Drew has apparently been overly talkative.”

My mouth twitches, a smile fighting to break free. “I didn’t give him much of a choice. I’m sorry for worrying you; I didn’t realize that you would take my questions as an indication of suicidal thoughts.”

“I didn’t realize that you thought I would be capable of murder.” His wry voice doesn’t match the hurt in his eyes.

I bite back a sharp response, thinking of the ways this man has demeaned me over the last two months. It is a little late for him to be playing the part of angel now. “I have a proposition for you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “We went through that already. Two months ago. Our business arrangement has already been settled.”

“I’d like to renegotiate.”

“With what?” He moves closer, his eyes sharp on mine.

“With my name. According to Drew, I have sole control over the funds in that account. I am happy to help you access the funds, but I want something in return.”

“And what would that be?” He moves another step closer, and I forget how to breathe for a moment, the scent of him too familiar, bringing to mind too many memories of slick, bare skin and a hard, demanding cock.

“I want out. A divorce, or annulment, or whatever is appropriate. But I need you to continue providing for my father. And I’d like a little bit of money to start fresh, somewhere other than the Crystal Palace.”

He frowns. “That’s asking for a lot in exchange for less than three months of your time.”

“What was your original plan? After you got back the money? Dump me with ten grand? Send my father back to the city hospital?” My body tightens in sudden anger. “You wanted to f**k with my life for three months and then toss me aside? I think that’s taking a lot considering what you were getting in return.” I reach forward to poke his chest and he grabs my hand, his grip tight on my skin.

“It’s my money, Candy. I’m just getting it back. I’m not taking something that I don’t deserve.”

“You haven’t answered the question,” I hiss. “What was your plan for after you got the money?”

He releases my hand. “I wasn’t going to leave you. I was going to stay married.”

“What?” I say, baffled. “Why?”

“Since we seem to be at the level of complete honesty …” He glances at me for confirmation and I nod. “For Cecile. Drew and I think a wife may provoke her out of hiding.”

“Wouldn’t a wife make her less likely to show back up? It shows you’ve moved on, forgotten about her.”

He gives me a wry grin, a casual gesture that makes my heart stop and my knees weaken. It occurs to me, in that moment, that I have never seen him smile. Not a true, isn’t-for-the-cameras, smile. Even that barely-there smile is incredible. “You don’t know Cecile. She is very competitive, very possessive. The thought of me with a young, beautiful woman … it can’t hurt.” He shrugs. “I’ve tried everything else.”

“So you want to stay married?” I am literally flabbergasted by the thought. The last few hours, everything going through my head—my mind had already gone to work making plans for Life After Nathan. The biggest thought it was chewing on right now? What to do about that beautiful man, Drew, and whether there was any possibility of a future there. Staying married to Nathan … it was a thought that had never crossed my mind.

“Yes. Assuming, of course, you are willing.”

I sit, wanting, more than anything, to put some distance between us. I can’t function properly when he is close to me, his scent too sexual for me to ignore.

I stop myself about four steps down that thought process’s road, reminding myself that I am miserable as Nathan’s wife, the rules too constrictive, the control unbearably tight. I shake my head. “I don’t think I can do that. At least not with how things are now.”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“The rules … how you are with me. I understand it now; you were keeping things from me and trying to keep me from having feelings for you … but I am miserable.”

He frowns. “Is it the sex or everything else?”

I hesitate. “Both, really. The sex …” I blush, despite myself. My face should be immune to blushing, especially in the area of sexual conversation. And Nathan certainly didn’t seem uncomfortable. He had become downright chatty, a transition I couldn’t be happier about. I swallow. “The sex is great, at least for me. I don’t mind exhibitionism so much, but not in front of Drew—that bothers me.” I try to say the words casually, try to not give away anything more than what I intend. "And … that night." I shudder. "With that guy." I look up at him, my face resolute. "I will never do something like that again."

He nods, his eyes on mine, our gazes locked in a stare that I can't pull away from. "I'm sorry for that. I thought …" He shrugs.

"I'd love to know the rest of that sentence."

His eyes harden, my tone one I have never used with him. But things need to change. I am helping him, the playing field leveling.

"There were two reasons for that. One was because it turns me on seeing your mouth wrapped around another man’s cock." His blunt words make me blink, the heat behind them causing a curl of desire in my belly. "Second, I did it to keep distance between us. To remind you that I was in control, and to stop you from harboring any illusions of romance."

That causes me to laugh, a short bark of disbelief. "Romance? Believe me Nathan, you have made that abundantly clear. I didn't need to suck a stranger's dick to figure that out."

He swallows, reaches out a hand and pulls me to him, looking down into my face. "Thank you. For helping me. As far as the marriage and our agreement goes, I will think about modifying our marriage, but would like you to think about continuing our agreement, if I make some concessions to improve your happiness."

I lose my intelligence, his arms around me drugging my senses, his handsome face looking down on me, captivating me. "What kind of concessions?"

"Make a list of your demands," he says gruffly. "But sex is a nonnegotiable. I can't be around you without having you." With that declaration, he grips my waist, pulls me closer, and lowers his mouth to mine.

I have learned so much about this man since our last kiss, the roller coaster of my emotions taking me through a year’s worth of emotions in two short days. I respond, feeling the suck of arousal as my legs weaken and mind spins. I cannot say no to this man. His touch, his mouth. I grip the back of his neck as he lifts me by my waist, spinning us around and dropping me softly on the bed, the mattress sinking as he climbs above me.

As his mouth whispers down my neck, his tongue thumbing over the delicate skin, I wrap my legs tightly around him, pulling him closer, feeling the strength of his arousal against my needy body. I turn my head, opening the other side of my neck to him and see, through glass and space and glass, Drew—standing in the main house, lines of hurt etched in his face.

CHAPTER 9

The pad of paper lies blank before me, my pen twitching in my fidgeting hands. This should be easy. Write a list of how I wish my life were different, how I would complete my Cinderella story.

I had known, going into this, that there would be no romance. That is not what I had struggled with. It had been the coldness from Nathan. The rules—the feeling that I was a second-class guest in someone else’s home. The Nathan of today, the man who spoke to me freely, listened to my words and treated me as an equal—that man I can live with, despite the lack of romance.