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But it doesn’t.

I wake alone and the panic sets in. Cold logic in the light of day leads like airplane landing strips to one conclusion: I am a fucking fool.

Charlotte knows too much now. I should have done more to secure her silence before I fucked her into oblivion and trusted it would make her happy enough she wouldn’t be tempted to run to the police.

Instead, I let my cock do the thinking—again—and now she’s gone to who the fuck knows where. The Whelans? The police? I’m not sure which would be worse.

I have to find her. And I have to kill her. Now.

I climb out from underneath the blanket and pull on my pants before I rush out into the hallway. My breath whooshes out and I rake my fingers through my hair.

She’s standing at the window with a cup of coffee. Wearing my shirt with my tie belted at her waist to hold it closed, since she destroyed the buttons last night.

I lean against the wall and watch her. The view outside—sunshine glittering off the pool—isn’t so lovely as the woman watching it.

She hasn’t turned to look at me, but she knows I am here. “Tell me all of it,” she murmurs.

I would rather not. The more she knows, the more danger she’s in. From the Whelans, from every enemy I have, and maybe from me, too. I can’t trust anyone. Fair or not, Natasha proved that.

“No.”

She faces me and I’m prepared to duck and cover because the mug in her hand is heavy. But she sips quietly, then turns away again.

I sigh. So be it. She knows enough already to be dangerous. I might as well tell her the rest so she can be ready.

“I’m prestupnik,” I begin. She doesn’t ask what it means. “I was taught this way of life. My father was Arrow. Now I am.” My accent is back in its fullest measure and I try to ignore the weakness, the loss of control, but she won’t look at me now. I need to see her face.

Her long sigh interrupts my train of thought. “I don’t know what presto-pick or arrow means. But I’m pretty sure it’s the reason you jumped out of bed like your ass was on fire and all the water in the world was waiting for you out here.” And suddenly she’s wise in ways I haven’t seen in her before.

“Prestupnik means something like ‘criminal,’” I explain. “Arrow is leader.”

She nods. “King of the criminals. Probably could’ve guessed that one on my own.” Another sigh and she’s back to sipping.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“What’s complicated, Kostya? You don’t touch the drugs or the women. You don’t hold the camera filming the porn. And as long as the money’s dirty, it never passes through your hands.” She’s still not looking at me but her words hit their mark.

“You’ve been browsing the internet.”

“Streamed a TV show about the Mafia this morning.” She sets the cup down and steps through the sliding glass door to a patio.

I want to touch her so badly, feel her warmth, let it soothe all the cold spots inside of me. But she is distant, icy. “I can give you anything you want. Buy you diamonds. Furs. Buy you your own island if you want, but I can’t let you walk out of here if I can’t trust you, Charlotte.”

That’s the simple truth of it.

“What does that mean, Kostya?” Her voice is angry again. “Tell me what exactly the hell you mean. Is it a threat?” She scoffs and shakes her head. “No. The great Kostya Zinon doesn’t make threats, does he?” She sniffs. “I’m not crying because I’m sad or scared. I’m crying because I’m so damn mad.”

“Charlotte, I want to trust you. I want to tell you all of it.” And I will, because to keep us safe, I must tell her.

Later, though. When I know how to say it.

“But you don’t trust me.” Her voice is soft, and if I’m not mistaken, sad. “It’s okay, if you want to know the truth. I don’t trust me either. Women in my family fall for all the wrong men. You could put ten of the right guy and only one of the wrong guy in front of any one of us Lowe women, and every single time, we’ll pick the one guy guaranteed to break us. For me, that’s you.” She shakes her head. “My sister fell hard for this old guy and ran away with him. That’s why you’re looking for her. Because I can’t find her. And Mom 
 she’s just Mom. Don’t even get me started on her.”

I want to take her misery and absorb it, turn it into something else. “I won’t break you, Charlotte.” And even as I speak the words, I know I’m a liar. If it comes to a choice between Charlotte and my business, she won’t win. She can’t possibly win. That isn’t how things work in my world.

But the feelings churning in my gut won’t quiet. And nothing makes sense. I don’t form attachments with the women I’m with. I don’t need them the way I need Charlotte.

“Come here.” I wait a second for her to turn to me. “Come here,” I repeat. I don’t add anything, not tone, not force. I want her to come to me because she wants me, not because I’ve scared her into it. When she doesn’t, I sigh and say, “Will it help if I tell you I’ve all but found your sister?” In truth, I actually know exactly where Lila is, but I don’t want to tell Charlotte everything just yet. Not until I’ve got Lila secured and there’s no risk of disappointment.

When she turns to me, her eyes are wide. “Seriously?”

I nod and take a step. She takes a step.

And then we’re touching, kissing like lovers parting ways. My hands tangle in her hair, her fingers tuck in the belt loops of my pants. I want to savor every

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