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The epitome of sophistication.

* * *

I feel like Mr. & Mrs. Smith strolling up to the entrance of the hospital, hand in hand with Thierry. I’ve always opted for vibrant, sometimes obnoxious, colors. Low cut, high cut. Clunky boots. This outfit is so sleek and elegant, with the black strappy shoes that Francesca paired with it, I don’t even know how to act.

“You look ravishing,” Thierry says beside me, as if my apprehensions are painted across my face. Maybe they are. “I want to ravish you right now, in fact.”

“Well, right now, I’m trying to pay attention to not tripping in these sandals, so maybe wait until I’m a little more practiced?”

With a smirk, he leads me up to the receptionist, who smiles expectantly as we approach. “Mr. Blake, how nice to see you again.”

It’s then I feel a slight squeeze of my hand.

Mr. Blake.

That must be the name he gave them. I get it.

“Thank you, Natalie. This is Carly. She’ll be accompanying me today.”

After nearly a decade of hiding my identity, I’m impressed to find a man who so fluently hides his own, like a second skin.

Like two cunning cons.

“Thank you. Enjoy your visit.” Natalie hands off passes to both of us, and I take a moment to clip it to my breast, while Thierry’s is clipped to the lapel of his jacket.

Standing in front of the elevator, I take in the reflection of the two of us in the stainless steel doors, and my breath hitches at how normal we appear. He, a money laundering wolf with a murderous past, and me … well, just not me.

We could be anyone.

The elevator dings, opening to an older couple, who step off, and I smile politely as I slip past them when they exit. Once the doors close, I feel Thierry’s hand toying with the hem of my dress, and his breath fans my neck when he leans into me.

“I can’t wait to tear this dress off you.”

“Surely, you wouldn’t, Mr. Blake,” I taunt. “What a waste of a perfectly good dress.”

“Worth every penny.”

After an upward two-floor jaunt, the doors open again onto a bright, white hallway that’s nearly blinding, as I allow my eyes to adjust to the intense sunlight pouring in from ceiling-high windows. The stark white walls and tiled floor only exacerbates its brightness. Between the narrow frame of each window hangs a dark crucifix, every few feet along the path.

Pushing through the double doors brings us to a nursing station, where a heavyset woman casts a beaming smile toward Thierry. “Well, hello, Mr. B. And friend.”

At that, the woman behind her, who doesn’t appear to be a nurse in her peach ruffled blouse and beige slacks, turns around to face us. Given the instant appraisal in her eyes, I’m definitely an unexpected guest. “What a pleasant surprise! You’ve brought a friend.”

“Carly, this is Madame Bijou. She’s the reason this hospital has electricity and running water.”

The secretary snorts a laugh, stacking a bunch of papers into a neat pile. “Ain’t that the truth! Was like living in the dark ages. Only bathroom on this floor was in the west wing, and it was unisex. I need not say more.”

Smiling, I offer a hand to the older woman. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Bijou.”

“Jude is fine,” the older woman says, giving a limp shake of my hand. “Frannie will be elated. As I understand, she had a bit of ice cream this afternoon, so brace yourselves. She might be bouncing off the walls.”

“Consider us braced.” Taking my hand in his, Thierry leads me farther down the hallway, and for whatever reason, a wave of jitters washes over me.

I’ve never had a man introduce me to his family until now.

Before I realize it, I’ve slowed my pace, slipping my hand from Thierry’s, which prompts him to look over his shoulder. Heart pounding in my chest, I clear my throat and come to a stop. “Maybe I’ll just wait out here.”

“What’s wrong?”