The kiss deepens, and more comes back. The way he tasted. The way his hands felt. The way he whisperedprincessagainst my ear while we moved together.
I remember.
Not everything. Not clearly. But enough.
Enough to know that this isn’t the first time I’ve kissed him.
His hands come up to cup my face, gentle and sure, and I press closer. The kiss turns desperate, hungry, like we’re both trying to find something we lost.
Then another flash. I remember him asking me to marry him. Getting down on one knee in a boutique at dawn. The ring sliding onto my finger.
I pull back, gasping.
We’re both breathing hard. His hands are still on my face, mine gripping his shirt like I might fall without him.
“I remember,” I whisper. “Pieces. Flashes. Not everything, but—I remember you.”
His thumb brushes my cheek. “What do you remember?”
“The kiss. On the dance floor. The hotel room. The way you looked at me.” My voice shakes. “The proposal. You got down on one knee. You asked me to marry you.”
“I did.”
“This is crazy.”
“I know.”
“I barely know you.”
“I know that too.”
“But I want—” I stop. Can’t finish the sentence because I don’t know what I want. To run? To stay? To kiss him again?
“Come here, princess.” He pulls me back to him, his lips crashing on mine. I open my mouth in return, allowing his tongue to dominate mine.
Heat shoots straight to my core as his hands roam over my back. I don’t want this moment to end.
11
LEDGER
Winning backa wife who doesn’t remember you requires strategy.
I’m in my office, staring at the city below, and running through my options. Flowers. Dinner invitations. Grand gestures. All the things normal men do when they’re courting a woman.
But I’m not a normal man. And this isn’t a normal situation.
Savannah is three floors down, probably taking the south stairwell to avoid running into me. She’s been doing that again, ever since we got back from Chicago two days ago. After the kiss on the balcony, after she remembered fragments, she’s pulling back harder than before.
Like remembering scares her more than not knowing.
My phone vibrates so hard it skitters across the table. I grab it before it falls—Silas.
“Talk to me.”
“Dmitri Kozlov’s been quiet. My contacts say he’s planning something, but no one knows what.”
“Keep eyes on him. I want to know every move he makes.”
