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“Making use of the honeymoon suite,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“This wasn’t the only room available, was it?”
“It was the only room available that met my requirements.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You didn’t.”
He shot her a wicked smile. “Oh, I did.”
Training her eyes on his lips, she wished he would kiss her already. Instead he helped her to her feet. “You can use the bathroom first. I’ll go get us some snacks from the vending machine for later.”
Pulling at her wet shirt, she frowned. “I don’t have anything to change into.”
He walked over to the wall, flipped on a switch and flames filled the fireplace. He picked up a nearby chair and placed directly in front of the orange flames. “You can dry them here. Robes should be in the closet.”
By the time she and Christian had taken turns using the bathroom, it was almost eleven o’clock, all their snacks, including the fudge, had been eaten and she was barely keeping her eyes open while they watched one of his movies.
“Do we have to watch this?” He made up the sofa with extra blankets and a purple pillow.
“I happen to like this movie,” she said on a yawn.
“It’s horrible. My first major picture and I die at the end.”
“That’s why it’s my favorite,” she said, making him scrunch his forehead, “I mean, not the dying part.”
He looked slightly mollified at her clarification. “I should hope not. Why, exactly, do you like this movie?”
“It’s the real you. The one I met before you became world famous,” Zoe said, her eyes sliding shut. She’d tell him tomorrow, when she wasn’t so sleepy. On the way back seemed like a great idea.
“Really,” came that sinfully low voice of his.
She peeked through her lashes at him. “We danced the night away.”
“That certainly narrows it down.”
She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.
Zoe woke up to a pitch black room and the bed shaking violently. What would make it shake? Her mind began to race. Almost West Coast. Fault lines.
Earthquake.
She shrieked and tumbled to the floor, crawling over to Christian and unsuccessfully pulling him to the carpet with her. Her heart pounded in triple time and her hands shook like crazy as she smacked at him. “Wake up. Dammit, wake up.”
Nothing. What would it take to wake him up?
“Earthquake,” she screeched in his ear.
He shot straight up, the covers falling to his waist. “Son of a bitch.”
She shook him again, trying to convey the urgency she felt. “Please, we have to get under something or in the bathtub. I don’t know where else.”
“I didn’t feel anything. If it was a big one, I would’ve woken up before the banshee made my ears bleed.” He turned away from her. “Go back to bed, Zoe.”
“I don’t want to sleep by myself,” she whimpered. “I’m too scared.”
Sighing, he turned back to her and lifted the blanket in invitation. “Get in.”
Wasting no time, she climbed up on the sofa and pressed herself against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.
Unable to sleep, she searched for his tattoo with her fingers, finding the small rose above his heart.
“Sweetheart, you have got to stop. I can’t take much more of your explorations.” His voice was husky and tinged with desire.
“Are you awake?” Stupid question, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Tell me about the woman behind your tattoo.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Please, I’m still scared.” Her body shivered. “Help me calm down.”
Exhaling, he caught her hand and pressed it flat over his heart. “It’s not what the public’s been led to believe.”
“If you tell me, I’ll tell you about the man who broke my heart.”
“When I was…younger, my brother and I played a naughty trick on our father, for the entire summer. The trick backfired on me, mostly because I realized how much Vladimir loved Sebastian and how little he loved me.”
“So you fell in love with a girl, she left after the summer was over and you got a tattoo to remember her by, only she thought you were Sebastian.”
“I am in awe of your writer’s brain right now. And scared shitless that I’ll somehow end up in one of your novels.”
An amoeba on a flea was bigger than she felt at the moment. “Who says you’re not already?”
“I know I’m not.” He ran his free hand down her back. “You wouldn’t do something like that. Stab me, yes. Malign me in print, never.
Swallowing, she tried to laugh when all she wanted to do was cry. “Your tattoo?”
“My father took me and Sebastian to one of his friend’s house in St. Petersburg. Little did I know that Sebastian had ratted us out.” Her heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to hear the rest of the story, but dreaded the ending just as much. “I was held down while this old man with rotten breath inked me. Gave me a f**king rose of all things. It hurt like hell, but I didn’t scream once, didn’t let them know how much it hurt. When he was done, my father looked at me and my brother and said, “Now you’ll never be able to fool me again.””
“He had Sebastian tattooed as well?”
“No.”
“When you said younger, how—”
“Eleven.”
She didn’t think her heart could hurt anymore than it already did for him. “But that’s so wrong. Horrible.” Tears pooled in her eyes. She couldn’t imagine the pain, the confusion he must have felt. It was his father’s job to protect, not torture. “What about your mom?”
“She did whatever Vladimir dictated.” He exhaled. “I’ve never told anyone before, not the real story. Later I had it filled in with pink, just to show Vlad that I didn’t give a shit about what he’d done.”
“I think it’s very sexy and manly.” Moving her hand away, she kissed his tattoo, then took a deep breath. “My turn: When I was younger, I met this guy—”
“You don’t have to tell me.” He rubbed the small of her back.
“I need to tell someone. Not even Gabriel knows—although I think he suspected…afterwards.”
