His Obsession

qu

eous. Gulping air, I summon all the strength I can muster and sit upright in bed. The blanket slips from my shoulders and bunches around my

undres

it has a marathon to win. Embarrassment weighs he

are my clothes?

ing, Sleep

rtled to find a man seated casually in an armchair next to my bed. I have half a

omeone's front yard because I drove straight

tch the blanket to

had to patch up your wounds and mak

his man is drop deadgorgeous. If I weren't feeling like a splintered mass of bones, I'd already b

ce that is actually a bit uncomfortable to sit in for too long. I think it's the concentration of his gaze and the way that he sits completely still, a statue of fine marbl

alwood. A wet heat pools between my legs at the thought of being surrounded by his sheets in hi

y the idea turn

" I whisp

me Pierre while you're here. The other member

most perfect, though he has a slight accent where any hard R's are

. How long

ee d

pping uneasily. "Shit. Shit, did my

ants pocket and tosses it gently onto th

. I look down and inspect my hands. Gabriel's taken great care to clean my cuts and wrap them in fresh bandages. While I'm

with another p

thinking about his big

hem all

t,

my clothes?

sed

. "Excu

ed in. I've sent my housekeeper out sh

a reassuring thought. Maybe he's telling the truth about not wanting to ruin the sheets. It feels like Egyptian cotton. It'd be a shame to

y neck. My necklac

le," Gabriel

beside myself if I ever lost it. "Why did my father send me to you?" I ask him.

ot going to answer your questions

thief, I'm not in the habit of

"How did you sustain your inj

ldn't give. "I don't know where Dad is," I admit. "There was an explosion, and I

, his brows knitting t

if Dad trusts him enough to send me to h

reaction. He gives none. He doesn't seem the least bit fazed, which tells me two things: he'

tions now are

t stupid modern-day Ro

t. "It's not stupid," I retort hotly.

aving one hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah

stolen Picasso in his priva

rk green eyes. "Bianchi? I didn't know that the bastard

Bianchi is the type of big bad whose name only circulates in the most secure of circles -those of his own people and those tr

en? Dad has no shortage of 'b

aotic air about him. Most thieves I've met are all skittish creatures -myself included- eyes always darting around to locate the nearest exit while keeping runni

heming. S

at me like I'm the only obj

tions," I state firml

now is that this is a secure location," he says, deep voice like distant thunder. "Ch

Who are yo

ing almost... hungryabout the way he looks at me. It's a blink and you miss

portant,"

ze that only makes me

es you need to follo

ignori

e wh

permitted to

't be getting very

er around the house. You'll stay in this room. You're

less like a safehouse and more like

be deliver

initely a

never seen the i

kes you

t's daughter, then I'll spare no expense in ensuring your comfort. I w

enge. "Got som

iving you the opportunity to lie low, no strings attach

chestnut brown hair pokes her nose into the room. She doesn't say

blanket close. "Hello, sw

alking to a tall, brooding hunk of a Frenchman, and the next he's scooping the little girl up

ing strange inside me stirs, though I can't for the love of God figure out why. The

. Pull yours

or firmly behind him. All I can hear after that are

inutes later, he looks

your daugh

ill have a meal and fresh clothes sent up to

p that the curtains have been drawn shut, likely to keep any potential outsiders from knowing I'm here. There isn't a lot in terms of decoration -no family photographs, no vacatio

the household don't

. I want to crack Gabriel Lacroix open like a safe. The more I learn about him, the more I want to know. I'm

iding? Who i

ng if I'll need to run again. It could all happen at the drop of

ys... Three days and not a word from Dad. We've had a couple of close calls in the past where we h

my side, I tuck my

everyon