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An ivory claw-footed tub with a decanter of rose petals sits in the center of the room atop a hand-knotted silk rug. The marble floor is warm beneath my feet, and when I reach out a hand to stroke the shelf of fluffy white towels, I find those are heated, too. The shower’s constructed of sleek chrome and glass with a large, square shower head, beside a vanity complete with glass decanters of cotton products, pumps with soaps and lotions, and small hand towels. The air smells like roses. Dimmed recessed lighting welcoming luxury and relaxation.
Thayer reaches for the handle on the tub when a low ringing sound vibrates in the other room. His phone? Thayer closes his eyes for the briefest moment before he curses under his breath. “I’ll have to take that. I’ll join you shortly.” And just like that, he’s gone.
Maybe we’ll have to take a raincheck on that tub.
I wonder if this is what it will be like if I’m his. Will he always be on the lookout for the next danger? Will there always be danger? Maybe I’ve let myself romanticize what it would be like being with Thayer. Or maybe it’s that constant self-doubt I battle, the fear that I’ll be abandoned like everyone else in my life has done…
I dampen a washcloth to clean myself up and stare in the mirror in front of me. Rectangular with a frame accented in silver, it’s well-lit and huge. I stare at my short hair and run my fingertips through it. God, it looks so different. Cute, and I like it, but it’s… not me.
Not who I was, anyway. I don’t know if I’ve made peace with this yet.
I look at my body, clearly marked by Thayer. My breasts are swollen and heavy. I turn and look at my ass, also very much bearing his mark.
Who am I?
I look at the tub and decide I’ll take a bath in there some day, with rose petals and all. I help myself to the lotions and cleansers and freshen myself up, and a few minutes later, I leave.
Thayer’s fully dressed and on the phone, immersed in a conversation in such rapid French I can hardly keep up. Again, I feel out of place, like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that doesn’t quite fit right. It’s as if my being here has disrupted the whole natural order of things.
Thayer stares at the wall while he talks, shakes his head, and gestures, but when he turns to give me a half glance, he freezes mid-sentence.
“I’ll call you back.”
There’s something in the way he looks at me that makes my heart leap into my throat. I’m not sure what it is, because it’s foreign to me.
No one has ever looked at me like that before.
“Everything okay?” I ask, as I tug on my clothes.
He shakes his head. “No, but it will be.” I don’t miss the ominous tone of his voice. I swallow.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “No. I want to pretend that there’s no danger, and that you’re safe here with me.”
A chill skates down my spine, and I give him a curious look. This isn’t like him. Even though we’ve only been together, like this, for a very short time, we’ve known each other for a while. Thayer isn’t the type to ignore reality.
“I’m not?”
In three steps, he’s in front of me. When he reaches me, he grabs me by the elbows and yanks me to his chest. My heart beats rapidly. When I place my hand on his chest, I feel the rapid beating of his heart in time with mine.
“You’ll never be safe with me, Savannah.”
I don’t reply. I’m not sure what to say, what he means. If I’m not safe with him, I’m not sure why Nicolette and Fabien arranged for me to come here, but I suspect he means something altogether different.
“What is it, Thayer? You can tell me.”
When he draws in a breath and releases it slowly, I see the weight he carries and the heaviness that bogs him down. I can’t imagine what it was like watching his father die, with his hands tied, knowing he couldn’t do anything to save him.
Does he fear he’ll lose me, too?
“They’ve found you out. I was afraid it would happen.”
A chilling wash of terror floods me. “They found me?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “No, not yet, but they know you’re affiliated with us. Lyam’s intercepted messages. It’s no secret that Fabien’s wife has a sister, and it was easy enough for them to track down your whereabouts.” He blows out a breath. “We had a decoy sent back to America posing as you. She was shot and killed last night.”
I blink, trying to process this. It’s as if he’s speaking a language I don’t know.
