Page 52 of Icebound

She’d washed her hair, pinned it into an updo, then opened the package of makeup Bastien had provided. It had clearly been curated for her coloring, and for a moment, she had the absurd vision of Bastien picking them out. More likely, Luc would have told some saleslady, and she would have gathered the stuff.

She applied it with a sparing hand—she’d learned early on that less was more, though she gave herself some appropriately smoky eyes and a soft rose mouth. Then she slipped on the high heels and surveyed herself in the mirror. It would be a shame to kill anyone who looked so glorious, she thought bitterly. She could only hope Bastien felt the same.

Luc whistled appreciatively when she came out of the bedroom, but Bastien merely glanced at her, as if she were dressed in her usual clothes. “It will do,” he said. “Take off your wedding ring.”

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Take it off or I’ll cut it off,” he said evenly.

“Then you’d get blood all over this dress and people would notice. I’m not taking off my wedding ring. You can’t make me.”

She was mistaken. He was already dressed in his formal clothes, but they hindered his actions not one whit. He caught her, holding her squirming body as she fought against him, and pulled off the ring. It was loose since she’d lost weight, and it came off easily enough, and she tried to scratch at him, a useless battle. He was so much bigger than she was that the effort was fruitless.

And then he released her. “Fix your hair,” he said shortly. “You’ve messed it up.”

“You’ve messed it up,” she shot back furiously. “What are you going to do with my ring?”

“You don’t need it.” And to her absolute horror, he went to the window and tossed the simple gold band into the deep waters of the lake.

“I hate you!”

“Of course you do, chérie,” he said, turning back to her, his face expressionless. “When you find your husband, he’ll buy you a new one. Assuming he has any plans to come back to you.”

The easily spoken words rattled her, and her heart ached. Was he telling her something that only he would know? She’d assumed that once he remembered who he was, everything would be all right. But maybe this time had changed him. Maybe he really had married Maddalena. She could hardly hold her own against the Italian version of a Kardashian.

“My husband will kill you,” she said, not caring if it was totally nonsensical concept.

“I am very hard to kill.”

She believed him.

If she expected to be driven to a gala of world-famous celebrities in the Renault, she was mistaken. Waiting outside by the rickety dock was a sleek mahogany boat that looked like the old Chris-Craft her parents had owned. She picked her way carefully across the embankment, then looked at the boat for a moment.

“I can’t climb in—the skirt is too tight,” she said, wobbling slightly on her high heels on the uneven ground.

He came up behind her, caught the fabric of the dress and pulled it up to her waist, freeing her legs. She considered slapping him, but he was a different man tonight, on a fine edge of danger, and she thought better about pushing him. She scrambled over the side of the boat, nearly collapsing when she got to the mahogany planks beneath her feet, but quickly righted herself before he could touch her. Tonight, he was a suave, brutal stranger, and she wasn’t going to make the mistake of goading him, or she could end up a dead body on this fancy boat.

He leapt down after her, untying the ropes and heading to the steering wheel, barely noticing her. “I’d sit down if I were you,” he said over his shoulder. “You don’t want to end up in the lake.”

“Wouldn’t that make things simpler for you?” she snapped.

“My invitation is for Baron Von Hess and his companion. It would look odd if I attended alone. Couples don’t attract as much attention from security as single men.”

“So, I’m your cover?”

“Exactly. An affectionate cover. You can carry that off, can’t you? Just look at me and pretend I’m your husband.”

Chloe made a derisive noise as they pulled out into the lake. It was relatively still—she wondered what would happen if she jumped overboard? She was a strong swimmer, but the dress was tight around her long legs and she wouldn’t have the freedom of movement that she needed. If she swam back to the villa, she’d be no better off, and if she jumped, there was every chance that Bastien would shoot her there and then. No, she could only play her hand the way it was dealt and hope for the best.

“Are we in love?” she asked abruptly in German.

He turned to look at her in sudden surprise, then nodded. “Desperately. I adore you. You, of course, are dazzled by my spectacular sexuality. We have eyes for no one but each other. So don’t look for help from any quarter. Just know I could break your neck in a moment, and no one would notice, and I’d tell everyone you’d had too much to drink as I carried you someplace to dispose of you. You’ll do everything I say and you may get out of this alive.”

“I thought you didn’t want to kill me?”

“I don’t. But I do what’s necessary without hesitation, and I’ve been planning this job for the last two months. Get in my way and…” He left the threat unspoken. She didn’t need to hear the words.

She arranged her face into simpering adoration. “You’re my hero, Baron von Hess,” she cooed.