“Good.” Taking his hand, I lead him over to the french doors, unlock them—which requires me to release him to unwind a very thick rubber band from around the two handles. “What the heck is this?”
“A precaution. Can’t do much about the glass being easy to break, but those locks could be picked in under a minute. With the band, you’d probably hear someone breaking in. There’s another one around the doors in our room.”
Our room.
We’re both barefoot, but I gesture for him to follow me out to the balcony. The cool, crisp November air makes my skin prickle, but I haven’t once seen Griff in the sun, and I need to feel free for the rest of this conversation.
He takes off his glasses and drops them into his pocket. But the motion is too much for the loosely tied belt, and he curses under his breath as he holds the robe closed.
“Let me help.”
From the tension rolling off him in waves, he doesn’t like the idea.
“If this is going to work—us—you can’t choose when and when not to trust me. It’s all or nothing.” Griff drops his arm with a sigh. After I secure the belt, I rest my hands on his shoulders. “You’ve kept me sane from the moment we met. Protected me. And you never judged me. You charmed theBeauty and Styleexecutives last night, handled the press when I couldn’t, and most of all, you showed me what it means to be…loved. You aren’t broken. No more than I am.”
“Sloane, you’re perfect,” he says, and I laugh.
“I’d never had sex before last night. I’m thirty-five years old, and I’d never had…never…comebefore. You’re the only one who knows my real name—other than Dimitri and, I suppose, your team now.” My cheeks warm, the sun intensifying the flush from my secret shame.
“I haven’t told them. Though, as good as they are, they might have figured it out.” The man I’m falling in love with is back with me, no longer a shell, though his pain lingers just under his skin, in his eyes and the set of his jaw. At my shock, he shrugs. “It wouldn’t help us find Volkov. He paid off his parole officer—or someone in law enforcement—and got himself a fake ID so he could leave the country. A man like that isn’t going to put an ad in the paper asking if anyone has information on Sophiana Lebdev.”
Hearing Griff say my name—myrealname—stirs something in my soul. I’m not Sophiana any longer. And even though I could take back my name if—when—Dimitri is no longer a threat, I don’t want to.
“Thank you.” Reaching up, I cup his cheek, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment. “Come have coffee. I’ll order breakfast. If you’re feeling adventurous, you can try some of my green smoothie.”
His chuckle puts us on solid ground again. We’re not done. I’m not sure we’ll ever be done reassuring one another. But maybe two broken souls can fit together and make each other whole.
* * *
Griff
One sip of Sloane’s smoothie and I slide my plate across the table to her. “Eat something real. That shit tastes like wheatgrass and spinach and the death of all hope in this world.”
She laughs so hard, she snorts a little bit of the green liquid out her nose, and my glasses pick up a couple of very colorful curse words. “Don’tdothat to me! And I amnoteating hash browns and bacon.” With a final, longing look, she nudges the plate back toward me, then adds, “Until tomorrow. Tomorrow I can eat whatever I want.”
“My flight is at 5:00 p.m.,” Marina says as she polishes off her croissant. “You’re not flying back through New York, right?”
Reaching for Sloane’s hand, I link our fingers and squeeze gently. “We might stay until Monday. It’ll give my team time to upgrade her home security system and find us seatstogetherall the way to San Diego.”
“Someone’s going to be in my house?” Sloane asks.
Shit.
“I…uh. I should have told you. When you ordered breakfast, I asked Austin to set things up. Hidden Agenda—that’s the firm out in Seattle—partners with the best home security firm in the country. No one’s breaking in ever again.”
And if they try? I’ll be there to stop them.
Sloane chews on her lip, and Marina shoots me a look that says, “You’re being a dumbass.”
“Fuck, Sloane. If you want to wait until we get back to San Diego, I’ll call Austin back right now.”
“No, it’s okay. You’re right. Better to have the work done while I’m gone. But…won’t they need my keys?”
I pause with a forkful of hash browns halfway to my mouth. “No, sweetheart. They don’t need your key. And they’re discrete.” At her wide eyes, I realize there’s a lot about my life and my work I haven’t told Sloane, and if I expect her to trust me—to love me—I can’t keep secrets from her anymore.
Leaning in, I whisper in her ear, “Are you okay staying here one more night? We could see more of Zurich. Have thatrealvacation you wanted?”
Sloane’s eyes shimmer with tears, but they’re not from fear or shame. No, that’s pure joy in the brown depths. “I’d love that. If it’s safe.”
