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“Shouldn’t you be under the covers?”
“Nope.”
Another yawn. “Why not?”
He turned on the pillow and found her sleepy gaze on him. His hand reached over, and he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Because I’m trying to avoid temptation.”
“Temptation?”
“That would be you. We need something between us.” Though the covers weren’t much in the way of a barrier. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna pounce.”
Her eyes closed. “Didn’t think you were. I tried to get you to do that earlier…” Her voice slurred. “You have…good control.”
“It’s my middle name.” No, it wasn’t. His full name was Midas Henry Monroe. Henry…his father’s name.
Because his father had wanted his son to be just like him.
A chip off the old block.
A chip off the murdering, sadistic block.
His hand lingered on Alina.
Like father, like son.
Chapter Ten
His phone buzzed. Midas jerked, and the buzzing continued. His eyes opened. For a moment, disorientation filled him. Where the hell am I? He didn’t recognize the ceiling. Or the darkly painted walls or—
His head turned. His gaze landed on the profile of the woman who slept peacefully beside him. Alina. Her hand had stretched out, and her fingers pressed lightly over his stomach.
She touched him while she slept.
The woman looked like sweet sin. Perfect temptation. His waking fantasy.
The phone buzzed again. A low ring followed, one that—thankfully—hadn’t stirred Alina. She needed all the sleep she could get.
I fell asleep with her. He hadn’t meant to do that. He’d just intended to stay in bed long enough for Alina to drift off before he slipped back downstairs. But he hadn’t left her. He’d slept deeper and harder than he could remember sleeping in months.
And his phone would not stop buzzing.
Midas reached for the nightstand. He’d put his phone down before climbing into bed. He grabbed the phone and brought the device up to his face. When he saw the number on the screen—saw the caller ID displayed—
He shoved the phone to his ear. “Has something happened to him?” Because it was the penitentiary calling. The warden had Midas’s direct line and instructions to call only in the case of an emergency. As in…
Death.
His father had been convicted in North Dakota. The death penalty had never been a possibility for him there. Instead, he’d gotten multiple life sentences.
“Midas.”
Wait, that wasn’t the warden’s slightly nasal voice. It was the uptight, too much money, upper West Side accent that belonged to Henry Monroe’s lawyer, Xander Palmer.
“Midas, don’t hang up!”
Someone had just read his mind because he’d sure as hell been about to disconnect the call. Midas’s grip tightened on the phone. “Why are you calling from the warden’s number?” Low. He didn’t want to wake Alina. Midas slid from beneath her touch and eased from the bed.
“The warden is right beside me. So is DA Terrance Peters.”
