The Sinful Art of Revenge

Chapter TWELVE


DAMION STRAIGHTENED HIS TUXEDO and adjusted the gold cufflinks bearing the Fortier family crest. He refused to admit he was nervous. Nerves would mean there was more to the plans he’d made than mere altruism.

He frowned at his mocking reflection and jerked at his sleeve.

So, yes, he did care.

Reiko would be annoyed, of that he had no doubt, but she was also practical. She would understand the reason behind his actions.

Satisfied with his reasoning, he glanced at the connecting door to her suite and felt the familiar pulse-leap. Although she slept in his bed, she insisted on dressing in her own suite—a decision he disapproved of but one he’d granted her anyway. He didn’t dismiss the fact that she needed more time to be completely confident with him. As for her recurring nightmares, the ones he’d arrogantly thought would disappear just because he held her in his arms at night …

Teeth gritted, he walked into her suite.

At the faint sound of her shower, every cell in his body tightened in arousal. With every pump of his heartbeat, he wanted to open that bathroom door. But he knew if he did they’d never make it downstairs in time.

He’d requested his first guest arrive early.

With heavy, reluctant feet, he stepped away from the door and went downstairs just as a car drew up outside. Crossing the hallway, he nodded to the butler, who opened the door.

Again nerves tightened his nape.

But he accepted that big, life-altering decisions warranted a few nerves. The simple fact was that he’d made his decision. And nothing would stand in his way.

Reiko twirled in front of the mirror, a smile of pleasure lighting her face as she watched the dress flare before falling to rest against her body. She’d fallen in love with the aqua-and-molten-gold dress at first sight. Sleeveless, with amber crystals sewn into the bust, the dress fell from just below her breasts in a gold skirt, with aqua chiffon gathered panels that fluttered with every step. Against her tanned skin, the material felt rich and deliciously decadent. Her hair fell free in its customary long waves down her back, and on her feet delicately strapped gold heels completed the look.

She was glad she hadn’t tried on the dress in front of Damion. She wanted to savour the look on his face when he saw it on her. She also wanted him to see her gratitude that he’d helped her regain enough confidence to bare her arms for the first time in nearly two years. She glanced at the long scar on her arm and smothered the fluttering of trepidation.

After one last make-up check, she picked up the matching silk wrap and made her way downstairs.

The muted voices coming from the living room next to the ballroom drew her attention. With a smile pinned in place to welcome this early guest, she entered the room.

Damion turned sharply, came towards her and slid an arm around her waist. ‘Reiko, allow me to introduce you to Dr Emmanuel Falcone.’

Despite his easy tone, she detected his tension. She glanced at him, but his face remained carefully neutral.

Pasting a smile on her face, she extended her hand in greeting.

‘Dr Falcone is a world-renowned therapist …’

The rest of Damion’s words faded underneath the punch of shock that stopped her breath.

Her heart raced, her thoughts scattering, as everything she’d thought these past two weeks had been about disintegrated before her eyes.

‘Reiko?’ Damion’s voice held a tinge of uncertainty as he glanced down at her.

Somehow she managed to find her voice, to answer him and conduct what she knew was a subtle interview with the therapist.

Reiko forced herself to remain calm, but deep inside something cracked, then pain poured through her. After all he’d said, everything he’d led her to believe, Damion believed she was flawed.

Dr Falcone mentioned something about suitable times and appointments. Reiko nodded along and accepted his card, willing the numbness not to overtake her.

What did it really matter? She would be gone from here soon enough.

She finally focused to realise both men were staring at her in silence.

‘Um, I need to ring through to the kitchen and check that everything is ready. I’ll be out in a few minutes.’ Reiko was glad her voice held. Yep, she was still great at keeping up appearances.

After they’d left—Damion casting a puzzled look at her as he escorted the doctor out—Reiko took several breaths, willing the pain away.

Outside, she heard the sound of cars arriving, voices carrying anticipation and excitement at the evening ahead. She could do this … she could. And after tonight she’d leave.

Sucking in one last deep breath, she turned.

Damion stood framed in the doorway.

Her heart kicked at the sight of him, then dropped when she saw the intent purpose on his face. ‘Not now, Damion.’

‘Oui. Now.’ His nostrils pinched as he inhaled sharply. ‘You’re angry with me. I know that. But I only wanted—’

Anger flared into being, washing aside the last of her shock. ‘You wanted. So far everything’s been about what you have wanted. You invited him here without my agreement. Because you still think I’m broken, that I need to be fixed.’

He paled and grasped her hand. ‘No, I do not. But I do think you need help to work through those nightmares.’

Weary resignation washed over her. ‘I’ve accepted them as part of my life. Besides, they’re not your problem.’

His jaw tightened. ‘They shouldn’t have to be part of your life. You’ve been through enough.’

‘I really don’t want to do this right now.’ She glanced towards the door as the voices grew louder.

Warm hands tightened on hers. ‘You have to do it sometime. This cannot go on, Reiko.’

She shook her head. He’d made her face a few demons in the past few weeks, but the fear that Damion was gradually taking over her life and her emotions had become a reality she couldn’t ignore. If she didn’t take care, he would devour her whole.

‘Your guests are arriving. I need to make sure they’re comfortable. The models are also assembling for the show. That’s what you hired me for, after all, isn’t it?’

He dismissed her words with a typical Gallic hand gesture. ‘The guests can entertain themselves. This is important.’

‘You have lousy timing, Damion. All this time you’ve been determined to set me on the straight and narrow. Now just as I think I could get into this whole organizing-slash-party-planning thing, you want to tear me away.’ She shook her head satirically.

His face closed, but not before she caught a look of uncertainty.

‘I’ve messed up. I realise that now. Let me try to fix this.’

‘That’s just it. Don’t you get it? You’ve been trying to fix me ever since we met. And you know what? I think I prefer myself broken. I’m much more fun that way.’

‘Reiko, arrête.’

She lifted her chin. ‘It’s also not fair that you can speak Japanese and I can’t speak French. That annoys the hell out of me, actually—’

Her snarky response was choked off in her throat as she looked over Damion’s shoulder and caught sight of who’d just walked in.

Isadora Baptiste. Blonde, blue-eyed, statuesque and extremely beautiful, she was everything Reiko knew she would never be. And, as if to drive the point home, two young girls, dressed in similar white gowns to the world-renowned designer’s, flanked her. Isadora’s children.

In that moment the fact that she would never be given the opportunity to experience motherhood for herself ripped a path of pain through Reiko.

‘You invited her?’ She wasn’t sure which emotion reigned supreme—shock or devastation.

He glanced at his old flame. ‘Isadora is still a friend.’

She tried to pull herself together, to find the poise and composure that had been sorely missing since she’d walked downstairs and been thrown into chaos.

‘Well, let’s go and greet your friend, then, shall we?’

For the next five minutes, Reiko staged the performance of her life. She sailed ahead of Damion and introduced herself. Although Isadora smiled at her, her attention strayed to Damion, her eyes devouring him in a way that made Reiko alternately want to claw her eyes out and hurry away so they could have privacy. Worse still, all four broke into French, leaving her biting her lip as fresh waves of despair crashed over her.

She withstood it for as long as humanly possible. ‘Excuse me.’ She pasted on a smile as she excused herself and moved to the next set of guests.

For the next hour, she kept a safe distance. Every time Damion stalked closer, she moved away. Once she caught his eyes across the room. His displeasure hit her like a sledgehammer and a shiver washed over her at the dark promise of retribution. Defiantly, she glared back at him.

What right had he to feel annoyed when he was the one who’d upset her? As Reiko glared, Isadora sidled up beside him and slid her arm through his. Pain scoured through her. He must have caught it because his expression changed. The hint of gentle speculation made her feel even more exposed.

Her heart hammered. Damion learning of her deeper feelings for him was the last thing she wanted. She was already vulnerable enough as it was. Isadora leaned up to whisper in his ear. He smiled but his gaze never wavered from Reiko.

He finally looked away when one of Isadora’s daughters, Alaine, tugged on his sleeve. But it wasn’t before Reiko knew with every fibre of her being that Damion had seen into her heart, had guessed at her devastation. And had every intention of exploiting it.

She started as a deep voice murmured beside her. ‘Here we are again. The déjà vu is overwhelming, non?’ Sylvain Fortier demanded, a shrewd gleam in his eyes.

‘Yes. I mean, no.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Sylvain, it’s good to see you again—’

He waved her away. ‘Let us do away with the platitudes, ma petite. It is time to stop running away.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

He nodded to where Damion stood, surrounded by Isadora and her children, his stunning dark looks a perfect foil for their blonde beauty. The perfect picture they made tore a path of pain through her chest.

‘You need to stop running and grasp your future before it slips away from you.’

A bitter laugh scoured her throat. ‘Nothing in my future includes him. I’m here to do this job, followed by another—preferably somewhere far, far away. Speaking of jobs …’ She waved to Sabine LeBoeuf, who was trying to catch her attention.

With relief, she excused herself from Sylvain and hurried away—but not before she caught a look similar to Damion’s assessing one crossing his face.

‘What’s going on?’

Sabine fluttered agitated fingers. ‘One of the models hasn’t turned up. The agency said she was on her way but she’s not here, and the show starts in ten minutes. With only six models, the show won’t run to time, and the fireworks are set on a timer, so they can’t be delayed.’

Reiko tried not to panic. Sabine was distressed enough for both of them. ‘Where the bloody hell am I going to conjure up a model at the eleventh hour?’ she muttered under her breath.

The stylist approached them, speaking rapidly into his phone. She gazed hopefully at him. When he shook his head, her heart dropped.

‘We could ask one of the guests? Madame Baptiste, perhaps?’ Sabine suggested.

‘No!’

‘No …’

The stylist’s endorsement of her rejection pleased her. Irrational though it might be, Reiko wanted Damion’s ex-lover nowhere near the production she’d poured her soul into.

Her heart stuttered at the speculative look in the stylist’s eyes. ‘What?’

‘I think we’ve found our solution,’ he said.

Relief poured through her. ‘Excellent. Who is it?’

‘ You.’

‘Me? Are you insane?’

‘You’ll be perfect.’

‘Sure—in the land of Lilliput. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m five-foot-two. Even with three-inch heels, I’d still look ridiculous alongside the models.’

‘You’ll be perfect,’ he insisted.

Sabine clapped in delightful agreement. ‘Your make-up is impeccable, but you’ll have to wear your hair up—we don’t want that lovely mane competing with the Fortier gems. I’ll send an assistant to help.’

‘Help with what?’

Damion’s deep voice sounded just over her shoulder. Heart in her throat, she whirled to face him. How long had he been standing there?

‘We had a logistics problem,’ she murmured, feeling faint. ‘But it looks like it’s been resolved.’

‘You don’t sound sure.’

Of course she wasn’t sure. What she was contemplating frightened her. She’d bared herself more in the past two weeks than she had in the past two years. The thought of baring herself to the scrutiny of some of the world’s most stunning women and influential men made her blood run cold.

But slowly her heart hammered with determination.

‘I am now. I’m sure.’ Unable to help herself, her gaze drifted over him. In his exquisitely cut tuxedo, he knocked the breath clean out of her lungs. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I wanted to find out what was keeping you.’ His gaze probed hers. ‘We need to talk, Reiko.’

‘I’m not sure what good that’ll do.’ Seeing him with Isadora and her children had driven home what she could never give him. No amount of talking would resolve that.

‘You know me well enough to know I won’t take no for an answer.’

She opened her mouth to refute him but Sabine re-entered, flanked by two burly bodyguards carrying glass cases containing the Fortier jewellery.

Damion looked from the pieces to the models, then back at her. ‘You’re missing a model?’ he asked.

‘Not any more,’ Sabine trilled. ‘Reiko has stepped in.’

Several intense expressions flitted across his face. Then his gaze slid to the jewels.

The first piece was a sixteen-inch double-strand necklace composed of endless emerald beads interspersed with twenty-four-carat gold nuggets, each bearing tiny imprints of the Fortier family crest. A matching single-strand bracelet with matching smaller emerald beads shimmered as it was fastened around a model’s wrist.

The second model was draped in a necklace of beaten gold shells, the largest of which was centred with a perfect South Sea pearl that glowed under the chandelier light.

The stylist lifted the Grand Duchess tiara from a bed of black velvet. The countless diamonds in the breathtaking design caught a thousand lights as the stylist turned towards Reiko.

‘Not that one,’ Damion rasped.

Relief weakened Reiko. Just the thought of having so much history weighing on her was unthinkable. The third model, clearly enjoying the honour bestowed on her, preened as the tiara was placed on her head.

A haunting sound of violins signalled the start of the show. A hairbrush-wielding assistant entered and made a beeline for Reiko.

Damion stopped her and took the hairbrush.

‘Can I have the room, please?’

Sabine took one look at them and ushered everyone out.

‘Sit.’ Damion indicated the stool before the lit mirror.

Heart in her throat, she obeyed. His strokes were long and rhythmic, as if he had all the time in the world.

Then he lifted her hair. For the first time in a long time, Reiko felt the whisper of a breeze against her bare nape. She jerked as if Damion’s hand had physically touched the three slashing raised scars on her neck. With seductively sure expertise, he secured her hair and reached for a silk-covered case.

He unwrapped it and she gasped. The diamond-and-sapphire choker was the most exquisite piece of jewellery she’d ever seen. Arranged on four strings of diamonds, its centre detail held a sapphire as large as an egg.

The clasp held six miniature stones woven into intricate detail.

He held it up and Reiko’s stomach clenched. After he’d adjusted the choker, he pressed a kiss against her first vertebrae. ‘Bravo, ma belle.’

Tears prickled her eyes. Blinking them back, she forced herself to step away from him. Then immediately stepped back. ‘I … I don’t think I can do this, Damion. All those stunning people … right next door … and I’m—’

‘You’re my fearless ninja,’ he returned.

She shook her head. ‘No, she’s taken a vacation. I don’t blame her. Even she knows I’m flawed beyond redemption.’

A curious look entered his eyes. ‘I disagree. Perfection doesn’t exist, but if it did you’d be the closest thing to it.’

‘Dammit, Damion. If you make me cry and ruin my make-up, I will kick your ass.’ She blinked fiercely. ‘Anyway, shouldn’t you be entertaining your friend?’

A smile played about his lips. ‘I like that you’re jealous.’ His eyes fell to the choker and the smile disappeared. ‘I like a lot of things about you a little too much.’

With that enigmatic delivery, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and left.

The increased volume of the music interrupted her reeling thoughts. When the stylist stuck his head through the door and asked, ‘Are you ready?’ every muscle locked in an effort to stay where she was.

Somehow she took a step, then another. At the door, she nodded shakily. ‘I’m ready.’

Damion positioned himself at the end of the runway so he’d be the first person she saw when she emerged. He wanted her attention firmly on him. He needed it, craved it. His mind still reeled at the sight of her in that piece of Fortier jewellery.

She didn’t know the history behind it, of course. Very few did. He suppressed a smile at the thought of her reaction once she found out.

On one side of him his grandfather sat, his gaze focused in front of him. On the other Isadora spoke softly, trying to catch his attention. He didn’t feel obliged to give it. His every sense was attuned to the spotlit red velvet curtain, where any moment now—

She stepped out and his breath was strangled in his throat. Stunning didn’t even begin to describe her. Her head was tilted at a perfect angle to show off the jewellery, her slow, seductive walk striking fire into his loins. He’d had her just mere hours ago, but his body didn’t seem to remember its satiation. It screamed his need like a thirsty man screamed for water.

Gasps echoed around him—some with admiration, others with the same puzzlement that sometimes made him wonder just what it was about her that fascinated him so much.

She reached the end of the runway and stared down at him. For a full minute neither of them moved. Her gaze held a hint of fear, a healthy amount of defiance and a whole lot of attitude. But it was the bravery that fired from the core of her being that struck into his heart. Despite the brash exterior, Reiko Kagawa had taken a battering and had come out literally fighting.

He adored her. It was really that simple. He let the feeling infuse his every fibre until he was sure she could see it.

He knew the exact moment she recognised it. Her beautiful eyes widened, her lips parting on a shallow breath that ripped another thunderclap of desire through him.

You’re mine, he mouthed.

She saw that, too. Her contact-seeking fingers fluttered against her thighs, brushing the chiffon.

He nodded in silent promise. She inhaled, physically and emotionally gathering herself. Then she turned.

The spotlight fell on her bare back, exposing the myriad scars lining her skin. Another gasp raced through the crowd. Beside him, Isadora’s shocked breath barely touched him. He couldn’t tear his gaze from Reiko, the feelings rampaging through him threatening to pull him under with their sheer, devastating force.

‘If you know what’s good for you, boy, pull your head out of your behind and act quickly,’ his grandfather grunted.

Damion turned to him and outlined exactly what he intended to do. His grandfather’s nod of approval made his heart lift.

He turned and watched Reiko. By the time she disappeared behind the curtain to the sound of thundering applause, Damion knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn’t be kissing any more girl-frogs.

Reiko emerged from the cloakroom as the first of the fireworks lit the sky. Despite being shaky from the crowd’s reaction, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling, or calm her racing, giddy heart.

No one was horrified at my scars. The thought was so freeing she let out an ecstatic laugh. As for the look in Damion’s eyes … Heat swirled through her, pinching her nipples and cramping her belly with need.

She would have this one last night. Something to remember him by once she’d left here. It was thoroughly selfish, of course, but right at that moment desire trumped denial.

Sylvain, on his way outside, stopped his electric wheelchair in the vast hallway when he saw her.

‘It pleases me to finally see the curse lifted from the Fortier choker.’

Reiko stopped. ‘The curse?’

‘Oui. That necklace was commissioned by my grandfather for his teenage wife. He won her in a duelling match with her intended suitor. And because he didn’t want the man to forget, he made her wear it every time they went out in public.’

‘Okay, that was … different. But where does the curse come in?’

‘She made the Baron’s life a misery—just like every Fortier wife who’s ever worn it since,’ Sylvain explained. ‘I can personally testify to that.’

Recalling what she knew about Gabrielle Fortier, Reiko felt her heart go out to him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.

Sylvain shook his head. ‘Don’t pity me. Fortier men might be prone to loving too deeply, even compulsively, but we love only one for as long as we live.’ He looked towards the stairs to where the Femme sur Plage had taken pride of place. ‘Thank you for returning her to me. Damion tells me you bought the Femme en Mer. I think you’re not so immune to my grandson as you like me to think?’

Reiko had no words to answer, but as she followed Sylvain, her skin tingled with a different emotion.

The moment she stepped onto the terrace, she felt Damion’s forceful gaze.

You’re mine.

She didn’t resist as he came and pulled her close. They stayed locked together through the fireworks, but with each passing minute her heart sank lower, the euphoric high she’d experienced on the runway giving way to despair.

Damion hadn’t been declaring anything special. He’d been putting his stamp on her, proclaiming her as his to the world as if she was some sort of … meat.

She managed to hold it together … just.

The door had barely shut after the last guest before she whirled on him. ‘Take this necklace off me, Damion.’

He had other ideas. He swung her into his arms and didn’t set her free until they were in his suite. And then it was merely to shed his tuxedo jacket before he snatched her back to kiss her until they both couldn’t breathe.

The minute he released her, she stumbled back from him.

‘Did you hear me? Take this thing off me.’

His sauntered towards her, dark, sexy eyes gleaming. ‘Not just yet. I like it on you.’

‘I know why you put it on me. Is that how you see me? As a possession?’

He stopped. ‘No, but I’m extremely possessive when it comes to you. Watching you tonight …’ He shook his head, his accent uncharacteristically thick. ‘I hated it every time another man looked at you.’

‘Then you should’ve let me take it off earlier.’

‘I was testing myself.’

‘What?’

‘The first time I saw my grandmother wearing it, she told me the story behind it. Since I knew she wasn’t the subservient type, I asked her why she wore it. She told me she wanted to remind my grandfather who was in control.’

Reiko frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’ve never seen a man so consumed by a woman the way my grandfather was with her. She invaded his every living moment. I don’t think he took a single breath without thinking of her.’

‘Some would call that love.’

His eyes darkened. ‘She used his feelings to emasculate him. Is that love?’

‘How did he feel when she died?’

‘More miserable than I’ve ever seen him,’ he confessed.

She started to tell him what that meant, but a vein of fear struck her heart. ‘So this test you were conducting … what was the result?’

His smile was devastating in its power. ‘I realised I could breathe.’

Her heart lurched. ‘I’m happy for you. Now, can you take this off?’

He didn’t honour her request. Instead he took his time to study her. A gleam entered his eyes—one that made her breath catch in her chest.

‘Damion …?’

‘The diamonds light you up. They caress your neck like a lover’s touch.’ He moved towards her. ‘Like my touch. The idea of someone else touching you makes me slightly insane.’

‘I didn’t touch anyone tonight.’

‘Non. Had you done so, we would be having a different conversation right now.’

The hardened, primitive look in his eyes sent a hot thrill of delight through her despite all the warnings she’d given herself.

‘Did you spend your whole evening watching me?’

He inhaled deeply. ‘That’s all I seem to do when I’m with you. It’s a compulsion I cannot seem to break.’

Heat surged through her belly, igniting the banked fire that seemed to need just the promise of Damion’s proximity to flare to life.

Her hand went to her throat. The sapphire warmed her fingers, the smooth stone almost as seductive as Damion’s deep voice. The cloying need to remove it subsided.

‘I want you naked—wearing nothing but that choker.’

‘Damion …’ she murmured, intending to protest, but her voice emerged weak. Her body was already craving him desperately.

His arms banded around her, the heat from his body firing hers up. ‘Wear it for me. Let’s celebrate the end of the curse.’ His hand drifted to her dress and eased the zipper down.

Reiko’s protests dissolved under the melting power of his touch. With a soft sigh, she gave in to him. When he saw what she wore underneath—gold-coloured lace knickers—he groaned.

‘Or maybe I’m cursed after all. The sight of your body drives me crazy.’

‘You’re not half bad yourself.’

He growled, picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. She rose on her knees, then reached out to undo his studs. His gaze drifted over her body and she trembled at the fire in his eyes.

Heat pooled between her legs. With urgent movements she slid her panties off. Naked except for the choker, she settled on the bed. Damion’s breath hissed out, his hands frozen at his belt. The urge to taunt him further rose inside her. Reaching up, she gripped the pillow and slowly parted her thighs, exposing herself totally to him, this man she realised she’d fallen in love with.

Grey eyes darkened almost to black. The skin around his mouth tightened with the force of his reined-in control, but his hands moved lightning-fast to shuck the rest of his clothes. Gloriously naked, effortlessly beautiful, he sank onto the bed beside her and proceeded to make love to her as if his life depended on it.

Several orgasms later, she woke to find him watching her. She swallowed and felt the subtle tightening of the choker.

‘What?’

‘I’m breathing, Reiko. You make me breathe. I want you to stay with me.’

A whisper of unease cooled her skin. ‘Stay with you? Like … lust bunnies skipping through the fields until they find other lust bunnies to play with?’

His kiss was hard, intending to punish. ‘No, there will be no other lust bunnies in your future. Just me.’

‘When you say “future”, are we talking science-fiction terms or a few seasons of the year?’

‘You’re getting facetious. Good. Now I know you’re listening and taking me seriously.’

Ice clawed at her soul. She had a scary premonition of what was coming. Only Damion didn’t know what he was offering. What she desperately wanted to grasp with both hands but knew she couldn’t have.

‘I want you, Reiko. Indefinitely. You want me, too. This makes sense. I was wrong about the therapist tonight. You’re strong enough to work through your nightmares yourself.’

‘Damion—’

He stopped her with another toe-curling kiss. ‘You don’t need to give me an answer right now. You can say yes in the morning.’ He kissed along her jaw, leaving a trail of fire that threatened to thaw the ice that had taken hold inside her.

Reiko fought the thaw.

‘Listen …’

‘Shh. It’s scary, I know. I’m scared, too. But we both want this.’

His vulnerable admission tore at her heart. Her love for him increased a thousand-fold. Reverently, she touched his precious face, her heart weeping at the thought of what losing him would cost her.

‘Okay. We’ll talk in the morning.’

Coward. She pushed the snarling voice away and kissed him. With a groan he took over and kissed her until she wasn’t sure whether she was awake or dreaming.

In a daring, desperate move she pushed him down and surged over him. He gasped as she took him in her hand and guided him inside her.

‘Mon ange, qu’est-ce tu m’as fait?’ His words were choked, fractured, as if held together by the thinnest control.

Flattening her hands on his hair-roughened chest, she rode him, increasing the pace. His head went back, his neck arching as he panted desperate words into the desire-drenched space.

Reiko’s senses spun out of control. Strong hands gripped her, held her tight in the emotion binding them, until they could both hold on no longer. Her moans of ecstasy triggered his release. She collapsed onto his sweat-soaked body and felt his chest heave under her cheek. They stayed like that until she was sure he’d fallen asleep.

Tears dripped down her face as she finally raised herself and moved carefully away from him.

Again the choker tightened as she swallowed. With desperate fingers, she searched for the delicate clasps. Several tense minutes later, she finally freed herself from it. She hurriedly placed it on the bedside table, rose and gathered her clothes, determined not to look towards the bed.

Packing took less time than it had taken to remove the choker.

Fighting throat-scouring tears, she slipped her feet into flat pumps and hurried down the hall.

She was halfway down the left staircase when she heard a sound behind her. At the sight of him at the top of the opposite staircase, her suitcase slid out of her nerveless hands and clattered all the way to the bottom. Neither of them glanced at it.

Damion’s face was drawn tight, one brow raised in mockery. ‘Really, Reiko? I didn’t think the middle-of-the-night-sneak-out was your style.’

She swallowed. ‘I don’t know what my style is. I’m living through a lifetime of firsts with you. H … How did you know I was leaving?’

He held up the choker, his grip tight around its brilliance. ‘It slipped and fell on the floor.’

He started to come down the stairs, intense purpose in his eyes. She scurried up her side, overwhelming emotion surging through her.

His brows shot up as he paused. ‘Are we really doing this? Chasing each other up and down the stairs in the middle of the night?’

He vaulted up two steps. She dropped down three. Jaw tight with displeasure, he placed the necklace on a ledge and faced her across the large expanse.

‘Whatever is making you run, we’re going to talk about it. Tonight.’ He took a few more steps down.

She hurried up a few more.

He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Damn it, Reiko. Arrête!’

‘No. I can’t think straight when you touch me. And I can’t let you seduce me into making a decision that you’ll regret a few years down the line.’

‘Stop talking in riddles and spit it out.’

‘I can’t be with you, Damion.’ Her heart ripped into pieces.

‘And I won’t let you go. There—that solves the problem.’ He pointed a finger straight at her. ‘Now, stay put.’

His bare feet slapped the stairs as he surged up towards the landing.

With a yelp she hurried down, only to shriek in earnest when he changed direction. Steadying herself, she changed direction, too.

‘You’re going to fall and break your stubborn neck!’ With the grace and strength of an athlete, he gripped the banister and vaulted over it. He landed hard but barely paused before lunging towards her. Within a space of a breath, he was over it and in her face. He tugged her into his arms, gripped her tight as if he’d never let her go.

‘First thing in the morning, I’m having these stairs ripped out and replacing them with one staircase.’ He pulled back and brushed her hair from her face. ‘Now, tell me what’s going on. Now.’

She shook her head, unable to articulate the depth of her disintegrating feelings.

‘I saw you with Isadora tonight.’

‘And I saw no one else but you. But jealousy isn’t what this is about or you’d have clawed my eyes out much earlier. Something’s happened. Tell me.’

‘Fine. I look at this place and I can smell the history, smell the generations of wealth and power. And I wonder what the hell I’m doing here. I don’t belong here.’

‘I want you here. Which means you belong. Why are you so determined to end this?’ His voice was rough.

Looking into his eyes, she felt her heart nearly stop at the fear and a heavy dose of vulnerability.

‘Because … because I have to.’

‘I understand we’re both seriously out of our depths with this one, but walking away is not an option. I won’t let you.’

She looked into his eyes and her heart broke. ‘I can’t be with you, Damion.’

He finally, finally seemed to accept that she meant it. His face hardened, his body growing rigid until he seemed carved from stone.

‘Tell me why.’

‘Because you’re the last Fortier. You need to court a suitable baroness, marry her and produce a clutch of dark-haired Fortiers.’ Her heart cracked wide open, a shudder threatening to bring her to her knees. ‘And I … I can’t have children, Damion.’