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“Syd said that the sooner you’re debriefed, the more effective the therapy.”
“You make it sound like a transaction.”
“Her name is Dr. Sandringham. Syd says she’s brilliant. Best in the field. She’ll be working with Jamie, too. And Lorna, if she … wakes up. And … that cab driver who helped you? MacKenzie? He has been rewarded, as per your request.”
The Scottish cab driver had hung around, out of sight, certain I was in danger, and had called 999 the moment he had seen smoke. The fire department had been able to save the neighbors’ houses from being destroyed. The paramedics had very likely saved Jamie’s life.
“Oh,” says Alistair. “And that bizarre thing you asked for?”
I chuckle. It hurts my ribs. “You found one?”
“I did,” he grins. “It was delivered this morning.” He shows me an image on his phone of Jamie holding a giant gray squirrel plush toy. “It’s made with recycled fabric.”
My heart.
“Thank you,” I reply. I feel like I’ve been saying nothing but thank you to him since the incident, but nothing I say can convey how grateful I am.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he says, looking into my eyes. “I want to do this for you. I’ll do anything for you, Ivy. Anything.”
My ice cream is melting in its bowl. I swallow. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about … us,” I say tentatively.
“What is there to talk about?”
“Well, our agreement, for starters. And me going back to my flat.”
Alistair balks. “You are not going back to your flat.”
“I have to!” I whisper. “I need to get back to my regular life. We agreed on a week together.” I gesture at the chandelier and luxury wallpaper. “This is a dream. It was wonderful while it lasted. More than wonderful.”
It’s been the most thrilling week of my life.
“But I can’t live in la-la land. I need to return to reality.”
He’s still shaking his head. His voice turns into the growl I know so well. “If you think I’m ever going to let you go, you’re wrong.”
I feel a familiar trace of desire run up inside my body.
“Alistair,” I reply, half amused. “I can’t live in a hotel forever. I can’t be your secret mistress forever. Your pet.” Though god knows I love it. “It was a fantasy, and now I need to put on my big-girl panties and sort out my life.”
“I love the way you say panties.”
I smack him on the arm. “Stop it. I’m being serious.”
“You don’t have to be serious,” he says. “I’m serious enough for both of us.”
I push down the knowledge I have of Alistair being involved in organized crime. I find it easy to be in denial about that, because I’ve only ever seen him like this: warm, generous, funny, delicious. Violent criminals don’t act like this. Mafia kingpins don’t hire trauma counselors for their mistresses and their extended family. Mob bosses don’t bring their damaged women ice cream in bed.
It’d be so easy to just give into him. “I can tell that you’re not going to let me win this,” I say.
“Correct.”
“So then you tell me what we’re going to do.”
He feigns delight. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Excitement catches in my throat. I’m on the precipice of a whole new life, if I want it.
“Our agreement,” he states, sending sparks down into my pelvis. “I’d like to extend it.”
