Page 7

AXEL

At six-fifteen, I send Ben to escort Ruby to my private rooms. He takes her down the back stairs, through the kitchens, and out the back service entrance.

On my bank of monitors, I watch them emerge into the kitchen gardens and take the path to my private lodge. My private gardens are surrounded by a tall hedge and a locked gate. Ben punches in the access code, and the gate swings open. I leave my surveillance suite in the basement and head upstairs to greet Ruby.

It’s the first cool fall night on the mountain, and the fire in the wood burner banishes the chill from the air and casts a soft glow over the room.

Ben leads Ruby inside, and my mouth goes dry when I see her. She wears a flowing green dress that accentuates her voluptuous figure and low-heeled sandals. That ridiculously big sunhat covers her hair, and her sunglasses are in place over her eyes.

“Good evening, Miss Bennet.”

“Good evening.” She nods her head demurely as if we’re the characters her alias implies.

Ben leaves us alone, and I pour two glasses of champagne and hand her one.

“Did you see anything other than the inside of your room today?”

She shakes her head, and her sunhat wobbles. “Only from the window.”

“You can take those off now, Ruby.”

She hesitates before removing the sunhat. Red curls cascade over her shoulders, and I wonder what they would feel like in my hands.

I take the hat from her and stand in front of her, waiting for the glasses. “These too.”

When she doesn’t move, I reach up and slide the glasses off her face. Emerald-green eyes peer up at me, open and vulnerable and stunning.

“You’re beautiful.”

She huffs out a breath and looks away. “Thank you.”

The response is rote, as if she doesn’t believe me. I don’t push the point, but it just became my mission to make Ruby feel beautiful.

I take her sunglasses and hat and put them on the table next to the sofa. When I turn around, she’s smoothing her hair down.

“Do you like to cook?”

She tilts her head. “I can make toast and just about boil an egg.”

“Come.” I take her elbow and steer her into the kitchen. “I’m making chicken carbonara. You can help chop the vegetables, or you can sit and talk to me if you prefer.”

“You’re cooking dinner?”

She seems surprised.

“I don’t eat from the kitchens every night.”

“But I thought…” she trails off, and I raise an eyebrow.

I know what she thought: that I was inviting her to a restaurant dinner. But I want to cook for Ruby and get to know her; I want all her mysteries.

I hand her a knife and a carrot and station her in front of a cutting board, while I put a pan on the stove to sauté the onions.

“I taught myself to cook after I left the army.”

“You were in the army?” Her brows shoot up her forehead, and that’s the second time I’ve surprised her.

“For twelve years.”