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Marco had been making a name for himself within the family when they’d met. By the time she’d seen the full breadth of his possessive tendencies, it had been too late.

God, she’d been so stupid. On so many levels.

She’d cut people off for so long, but pushing Ryan away wasn’t an option anymore. It was as if she were missing an appendage when he wasn’t around.

He drew her past the elevators. “Let’s go check in. I’m tired of sharing you with anyone, even strangers.”

She shivered and nodded. Too many eyes with too many memories around her. It had been years. Ghosts didn’t seem to care how many days it had been. Eighteen-hundred-sixty-four days to be exact—give or take.

Five years should be enough time for Marco to forget about her. She had to believe that.

Hell, maybe the things he’d said to her—the threats couched as not-so-playful admonitions—had just been smoke and mirrors. Maybe he’d moved on right after she’d split town.

She could hope. Hope was free, if not in plentiful supply.

Ryan led her to a huge gilded desk with a smiling man behind the semi-circular counter. “Welcome. Do you have a reservation?”

Ryan nodded and gave his information. Because everything about Ripper Records ran like a well-oiled machine, it took barely five minutes to produce their key cards and a room number. A room with a very high number.

She had to hand it to Donovan Lewis. He didn’t skimp when it came to the important things. And tomorrow was huge for these guys. She had to remember this entire trip was about them, and not her baggage.

When the elevator opened to an empty car, Ryan hauled her inside and pinned her to the wall Fifty Shades of Grey style. They’d watched the movie in the dead of night in her bunk one night. He’d made fun of it the entire time, but the elevator scene?

Yeah, it was memorable.

And even better with Ryan holding her arms up above her head until she had to go onto her toes with the stretch. “I want you to come to the awards ceremony with me.”

“What?” Confusion dented the rush of sexy-times hormones that had finally pushed away the buzzy fear.

“I’m tired of pretending you aren’t the most important person in my life. I want you beside me tomorrow night. Hell, Colorado, I want you beside me—”

“Don’t you say it.” Panic rose up and nearly choked her, but she got the words out. The elevator chimed and the doors opened. She wiggled free and across the threshold with Ryan on her heels.

“Dammit, Denver.” He huffed behind her. “Go right.”

She veered down the hallway and followed his instructions to the correct room number. She waited beside the door as he jammed the card into the slot a few times before it beeped with a green light. He held the door open for her and she skirted by him.

He tossed the card on the table inside the door and flicked the lights on. Their bags had already been delivered to the room, and sat on a bench at the end of the lake-size bed that dominated the space. She gasped at the window looking out onto the strip. The view of the endless lights and eerie, inky blackness swarmed her brain. Memories of rooms just like this with him—with Marco—overlapped with the excitement of being with Ryan.

She pressed her fingers to the window.

He came up behind her. “Please just talk to me, Den.”

“Obviously, you’ve figured out that I have baggage.”

“We all do.”

She huffed out a harsh laugh. “Did yours require a name change to run away from?”

His arms came around her waist and he tucked his chin against her neck. He was always so present and patient. So much more than she deserved.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

She slid her palm along the corded strength of his forearm. The soft golden hairs that sprinkled across the top then the smooth skin along his wrist teased the pads of her fingertips

. “It was a long time ago. I was a different girl. A frightened one who didn’t know how to handle the things I needed.”

“Things I can give you.” His voice was low in her ear.

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