over for good.”
Aaron frowned. “He lied to me. He told me you were trying to sell my story to a tabloid.”
I gasped in shock. “And you believed him?”
Aaron looked abashed. “He had proof. Doctored, of course.”
I squeezed him—too hard for pleasure.
He winced. “Can you please not take it out on my dick?”
“Maybe,” I hedged. But I ran a thumb over the head soothingly.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t talk about this right now.” He eyed me warily.
I laughed. “Smart call. How about, instead, you make it up to me?”
He got a wicked look, obviously up for that challenge. He pushed me onto my back and kissed down my chest.
“Good start,” I encouraged, running my fingers over his two very different shoulders.
He murmured in agreement and went lower. He pushed my thighs up and worshipped me in every hidden place. Holy crap. The sensation was even better than I’d imagined. I squirmed and moaned until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Enough with the making it up to me. Please!” I tugged on his hair until he rose up between my legs. He was on his knees, completely nude, every inch of the Jekyll-and-Hyde beauty of him, with his straining, red erection showing his desire for me.
“You take my breath away,” I said. “You look like some primitive god of fertility.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And that’s good?”
“It’s fantastic. Now come here.”
Fortunately, Aaron had thrown condoms and lube from home into his bag. When he pushed inside me, so thick and invasive, my eyes rolled back in my head.
He paused, kissed my shoulder, my mouth. “I won’t ever let you go again,” he promised. He cupped my face with his scarred hand. “Never doubt you again.”
He took me hard and fast, neither of us able to hold out, our bodies too much in need of each other, our emotions too raw.
Afterward he held me loosely, his eyes closed, his face at peace. I stroked his back. I should have been exhausted. I’d only slept a few hours the night before. But there was so much to think about.
“You knew who I was almost from the start, huh?” Aaron asked quietly. “Or did Emmanuel fake that too?”
I felt a twinge of guilt. “No, I knew. Mrs. Delphi told me the people who’d bought Malfleur were named Montgomery. And—”
“Mrs. Delphi?”
I blinked at him. “She’s an old lady. A neighbor of mine.”
He shook his head. He didn’t know her? Interesting. I’d have to introduce them someday. She sure seemed to know about him.
“I was hoping you’d tell me yourself. I never told anyone your name. Not even my mother. I’d never do that.”
He squeezed me. “I know.”
“So what happens now?” I asked. “Will we have to stay in protective custody for long?”
“I hope not. The FBI told me they were very close to freezing Shar McGill’s assets in the US because of money laundering and trafficking. It might even be as soon as tomorrow.”
“Wow. How will that effect Montgomery Enterprises?”
He opened his eyes and shifted back a little to look at me. “I’m not sure. It depends on how far along the partnership deal is. If the money transfer hasn’t happened yet, and Shar McGill’s assets are frozen in the US, it won’t be able to close. Then the deal is either off for good, or Montgomery Enterprises waits for Shar McGill to get legal clearance.”
“But will they still come after us? You?”
Aaron’s expression softened. “I think they’re about to have bigger problems. Anyway, I told the FBI everything I know, and they’re going to investigate my father’s murder. And I plan to go to the board meeting tomorrow and tell the board what I know. I’ll do everything I can to convince them to abandon the deal with Shar McGill. At that point, killing us doesn’t really buy them much.”
“You’re going to a board meeting tomorrow?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah. We have an office in Century City, and the board meeting will be there.”
“Is that safe? To go in to the office?”
“I’ll be escorted by the FBI and cops.” He cupped my chin and ran a thumb over my cheekbone, his expression serious. “I have to do it. I’m sure there are board members who don’t want to hear it, who are only interested in the money. But I know a few of them are decent people. I need to tell them about my father’s murder and what Emmanuel did to me, about the FBI investigation.”
I held his wrist. I didn’t want to let him go. My imagination could conjure