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Something sparked in the depths of his eyes, warning her she'd gone too far. He stepped around the chair. Rebecca dodged the other way and raced for the open door.
He reached past her and stiff-armed it shut, slamming it closed and pinning her face first to the cold steel door. Her heart beat wildly, the blood pounding in her ears.
"Let me go!" She shoved against the door. Lacroix grabbed her wrists, pulling her arms behind her back. She kicked backwards. Her injured foot betrayed her, and she pitched forward, slamming her cheek into the door. He took advantage of her unbalance and pressed up against her, using his weight to trap her against the door so that she couldn't move.
Heat radiated from the hard wall of his chest that crushed her against the door with each of his rapid breaths. As if to counter his excess heat, her pinioned hands turned cold, and her breath caught in her throat. She was no match for his size and strength. No one would hear her if she screamed. He could do anything, and she couldn't stop him.
"I do have a daughter," he whispered, his fingers tightening painfully around Rebecca's wrists. "Since her mother died, she means everything to me. But she's dying. I've thrown everything the Institute has into the search for her cure, and I'm barely able to slow the progression of her disease. Now you offer me the first ray of hope in three years."
He leaned his forehead against the door so that Rebecca looked into his glittering green eyes. "I didn't want it to be like this. I was hoping you'd volunteer. But I have no choice. My daughter's life depends on it."
She stared, captivated by the shimmering emerald reflections in his eyes, a thousand points of faerie fire that danced and leaped in strange, hypnotic patterns. She could stare into his eyes for hours.
The fear and tension melted out of her, drowned in a wave of warmth that began and ended with t
he man before her. Everything would be all right, if she just let him have his way.
"No," she whispered. "I don't believe you."
"Believe me. Trust me."
He eased away from her, no longer crushing her against the door, but she forgot why that was important. Her pulse sped up. It was important. She struggled to release the memory of why.
Lacroix turned her so that she faced him, tipping her head so that she looked directly into his eyes. He slid his hands down her arms to capture her hands, and she remembered his gentleness as he comforted her after her panic attack. She had nothing to fear from him. Sighing, she relaxed into the warmth.
He stepped back, pulling on her clasped hands, and she glided after him like a sleepwalker. He led her to the couch, sat her down, then took his place beside her. The whole time, she stared, transfixed, into the swirling splendor of his eyes. The secret she was searching for was hidden in those eyes. All she had to do was look. Look.
"That's right," he whispered. "You wanted to find my secret. Discover what I was hiding. I was hiding my daughter. Help her, and you'll find the secret you were looking for."
"Secret daughter."
"You do want to help her, don't you?" His voice shifted away from soothing caramel sweetness, picking up a hint of insecurity.
Rebecca blinked. How had she gotten to the couch, with her hands tucked inside Desmond's and clasped close to his heart?
"You do want to help my daughter, don't you?" he asked again.
"Of course I do," she heard herself saying. Then she added, "But I can't."
He stiffened. "Why not?"
"I can't. Got to stay independent."
A strange warmth curled through her muscles and bones, as if she'd fallen asleep in a sauna and baked all of the tension out of them. She wanted to curl up against him and sleep. But there was a reason she couldn't do that. She had to fight. Only she couldn't remember what the fight was about.
She stared at him, dazed, unsure of when he'd spread her clasped hands against his chest. His heartbeat pulsed against her palms, and the rhythm echoed through her body.
"What are you afraid of, Rebecca?" he whispered.
"Can't tell."
"Are you afraid you can't trust me?"
"Can't trust. Anyone."
"You can trust me."
He reached out, and gently stroked her cheeks, framing her face with his warm, strong hands. She sighed, closing her eyes and settling into the security of his embrace. He pulled her closer, rubbing her back with long, soothing strokes. She leaned into his touch, her pulse quickening even as time slowed.
