“Picking out a few books to take to your house. When will you be here on Sunday?” If he hadn’t been listening, he wouldn’t have noticed the tremor in her voice. He pressed the number to Neil and sent an urgent text. Get to Sam’s now! I’ll call you in a few minutes.

“I’m going to rearrange my plans and fly in sooner.” As in tonight.

“That isn’t necessary,” she said.

“I disagree. We’ve been apart too long.” Those words felt exactly right, despite their agreed upon contract.

She let out a deep breath. “You won’t get an argument out of me.”

“I’ll call later.”

“Don’t do anything rash,” she told him. “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t. Someone was spying on his wife, listening to her conversation...watching her. And that was taking catching them in a lie too far.

“I’ll be there by morning.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Blake smiled and hung up the phone.

Pack what you need for today and tomorrow. Neil is on his way.

He placed a call to his bodyguard, explaining the situation. The next call was to his pilot. He rubbed his frustrated hands through his hair and scrambled to make arrangements to leave. His long-distance marriage no longer felt safe. His brain buzzed with an urgency that kept his toe tapping, his hands wringing to weave around someone’s neck. Would his cousin stoop to this level? Or was Vanessa utterly scorned and wanting some crazy revenge? Even Parker and Parker couldn’t be eliminated from the short list of suspects since they stood to gain an extra measure of cash should Blake and Samantha’s marriage be exposed as a fraud.

Twenty minutes later, his phone rang en route to the airport.

“Samantha?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She sounded worn out. Depleted. “I’m at your place.”

“Then it’s safe to talk. My security would detect a bug. How are you holding up?”

She sighed. The sound grew heavy in his ear. “I’m pissed. I thought my days of bugged phones and hidden cameras were behind me. Who would go to these lengths, Blake?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question since you called. I have people working on it. We’ll find out.”

“Let me know what I can do to help. Whoever is responsible has an enemy in me.” The spark in her voice was better than the deflated one of a moment ago. His feisty redheaded wife could be a fireball when cornered.

“I’ll be in late tonight. What room did you chose?”

“Oh, ah, I-I wasn’t sure who knew what around here so I told Neil to put my things in your suite,” she stammered. “I can move.”

He warmed into the thought of her head on is pillow, her eyes drifting to sleep in his bed. “Don’t move. You’re right. I trust my staff, but I don’t think we should alert them.”

“Are you sure?” She sounded vulnerable again. The strong desire to pull her into his arms and envelop her with his strength was painful.

“Please. I insist.” He knew better than to demand. Samantha took his commands and tossed them in his face whenever possible. Asking nicely was new to him, but he grew better at the task every day.

“All right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

His finger tapped along his phone after he hung up. The image of Samantha curled up in a tight little ball on his bed, her eyes wide with fear, choked him. His fingers clutched hard against his palms. Whoever did this had made a huge, costly mistake. He would crush the person who violated his wife’s privacy on this level. Paparazzi on public streets, eavesdropping while standing in line at a store, fine, but this? What if there was a camera in her bedroom? What if someone watched her dress, watched her bathe?

No wonder she sounded scared.

The more he thought about it, the harder it was to see anything but red.

****

Half memory, half dream, Samantha’s sleep-filled brain filtered images of her walking through campus, a backpack slung over her shoulder.

Someone followed behind her. She’d seen him before, but couldn’t place his face. The panic in her blood started after she’d revealed her deepest thoughts to her business professor.

In the back of Samantha’s mind, she knew she was dreaming. Knew where the dream was headed and tried desperately to stop it.

A picture of her childhood bedroom flashed in her mind. A candid conversation with a trusted friend. Her mother, alive, telling her to mind her mouth.

Jordan, just into her training bra, laughing at something their dog, Buster, was doing.

All these images mixed and coiled tight in Samantha’s chest.

Two men wearing dark suits and holding a badge removed her from her classroom and questioned her. Only instead of asking about where her father was, what he was doing, they asked about Blake.

“What he’s doing is illegal, Samantha. Thousands of people suffer because of him.”

No! She fought the dream, willing the images to change.

They pressed forward and fear gripped her heart.

Samantha shot up in bed, her breathing rapid and her heart rate soaring. In a flash, Blake pushed out of the chair he’d been sleeping in and rushed to her side.

“Sam, are you okay?” His hands captured her arms to steady her.

Forcing her breath to slow, she nodded. “Bad dream.”

“You’re shaking.” The words left his mouth and his arms circled around her and pulled her into his chest.

She probably should have pushed away, but couldn’t find the energy. She sucked in the deep pine scent of masculinity that always followed Blake around. This close it was more potent, powerful. Samantha leaned into him and closed her eyes.