Halfway to Donovan’s car, I realized we were leaving without Sun.

Not that I minded. But I sure as hell was going to make a point to mention it.

“You just abandoned your date?” I didn’t want to seem like I cared about his response, but I glanced over at him from the corner of my eye.

His mouth tightened. “It was a business dinner. Not a date. We came separately. She’ll get her own ride home.”

That did make me fairly gleeful. Whatever happened tonight, at least I wouldn’t have to wonder if Sun would be dropping her panties for Donovan in the backseat like she had the last time he’d driven her home from one of their dates.

I knew because he’d later told me about it in detail. It was months ago, and I still writhed with jealousy when I thought about it.

At the car, Donovan reached down to open the back door, and then held it so I could get in.

I paused at the curb and met his eyes, the door a barrier between us. “So no going down on Sun in the car tonight then. What a pity.”

He didn’t flinch. “You’re the one I’m putting in a car, Sabrina. If that’s how you want to spend the drive, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

A shiver ran down my spine that I hoped he didn’t see.

“I’m getting in the car to talk.” But maybe I didn’t mean that.

Did I? How strong could I be in Donovan’s presence? Could I be as strong as I needed to be?

“Get in the car then.”

I guessed we’d find out.

I slid across the backseat until I got to the other side and buckled myself in. It was a sad excuse for a barricade, but I pretended it would keep me safe. As long as I stayed on my side, and he stayed on his side, everything would be fine.

But then he got in next to me, his long legs taking so much more space, his very being taking up even more space. He filled the car. There was no escaping him. He was everywhere—beside me, in my skin, on my tongue. I couldn’t breathe without inhaling him.

I needed to do or say something to remind myself what the situation was.

“Just because I’m leaving with you doesn’t change the fact that you came with her,” I said, bitterly as the car pulled away from the curb.

He studied me a moment. “I came here for you.”

“Because you just happened to know I’d be at Gaston’s tonight? That makes perfect sense. Bring along your girlfriend. That will show Sabrina what’s what.”

“I came to the States for you.”

My heart tripped.

It had to be bullshit. “And you proved it by going out with Sun the minute you got here. I completely believe you.”

“I didn’t go out with her romantically,” he said tersely. “I called Weston when I landed. He said your sister was in town. I didn’t want to interrupt your evening. I planned to see you tomorrow. Meanwhile, I needed to negotiate some terms with Sun. We’ve hired her to be the face of the campaign for the merger in Europe, and she’s playing hardball with some additional requests.”

“So you thought you could wine, dine, sixty—”

He cut me off sharply. “It was dinner, and I’m in the goddamn car with you. I came back for you.”

I looked over at him. The car was dark, but there was enough light from the street to see his face. His crushingly handsome face. He seemed tired. Jet-lagged, probably. His scruff was maybe older than a day. His jaw was also tight, like it got when he was frustrated. I wanted to reach out and run my hand along the muscle. Wanted to feel the warmth of his skin burn my fingers.

I didn’t really have any reason not to believe him.

He’d called her first, but his reason made sense. If he’d really wanted to be with Sun instead of me, wouldn’t he be with her now? If he said he’d come back to the States for me…

I’d been so wrapped up with Sun I’d forgotten about the rest. This was the first time we’d been together without the veil. I knew about the file. And he knew that I knew. There were so many bigger things than Sun between us, and if he’d come back for me, was it to…explain? To try to make up a lie? To convince me not to press charges for invasion of privacy?

“Why?” I asked outright. “Why did you come back for me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Sabrina. You called me.”

“I called you, but there could be a dozen different ways to interpret your response when you show up like this. You could have just called me back.”

“I thought this discussion deserved a face to face, don’t you?” His tone was controlled and even and a little bit threatening, and I wondered for a moment if I should be scared of him.

But I was always a little scared of him. Didn’t I like that about him?

I crossed my legs, trying to ignore the pulse between my legs. “Face to face so you could seduce me into believing whatever you wanted me to believe?” If that was his plan, he needed to come up with a new one. I had my seatbelt on and everything.

“I thought it would be easier to talk honestly.”

Something in my chest pushed out, like it was reaching. Like there was a part of me that was still holding out hope that we could put everything out on the table, and there’d be a way in there that we could be together.

But I knew better.

A of all, given the lengths he’d gone to, putting together my file over the years, I couldn’t be entirely sure he wasn’t a psychopath.

B of all, I’d already tried the honest approach and it had failed.

Besides, I knew the truth. I didn’t need him to admit it, and I didn’t believe for one minute that he would. But if he wanted to play the honesty game, then fuck it, I’d play his game.

I’d tell him his truth before he had a chance to tell me any other story.

I twisted in my seat so I could stare him dead in the face. “You want honesty? How about this for honesty—I know what it means. That you have all that stuff on me. I already know what it means, so don’t bother trying to come up with some story to excuse it.”

He tilted his head in my direction, humoring me. “Really. What does it mean?”

I stared him right in the eye. “You love me.”

“I do.”

He’d spoken them no louder than anything else he’d said, and yet those two words echoed through the car like he’d shouted them into a canyon.

“Oh,” I said. My chest felt heavy. And hot. I was hot. “Oh,” I said again.

I looked down, suddenly feeling dizzy and shaky and a little like I was going to throw up.

“Can you handle that?”

I looked back up at him, jolting when I met his eyes again. “I don’t know.” Fuck. I hated that he could see how vulnerable he made me. “I mean. You don’t even know me.”

He raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

“A file of papers about me isn’t knowing me.”

“I realize that.” He leaned closer, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. “But I knew you then and I know you now. And I know.”

My entire body vibrated in agreement, as though the cells within me were able to admit something that my brain refused to acknowledge.

Donovan Kincaid loved me.

I’d believed it, deep down, I’d thought it was the only thing that made sense. He’d loved Amanda and he’d done the same things with her. The pieces added up. It was a rational conclusion.

But emotionally I hadn’t been so sure.

I dropped my gaze. My head was rushing back through everything, putting this new frame on every experience we’d shared together, seeing it through the lens of he loves me, trying to feel if it made sense.

Two weeks ago all I’d wanted was a chance that he might feel more one day.

He’d hurt me. Pushed me away. Pissed me off.

“If you’re so in love with me, why did you insist that a relationship between us was impossible?”

He pressed his lips together. “You’ve discovered that I’ve been stalking you and meddling in your personal life for the last ten years, and you’re concerned about why I didn’t want to have a relationship?”

When he put it that way, it did sound kind of ridiculous.

I chuckled. I was losing it. Yeah, he’s a psychopath, but it’s okay because he loves me. I wanted him to tell me more about how he felt about me, but he was right. I needed to get my priorities straight.

I looked away for a moment to get my bearings. “I’m concerned about all that too.” There’d been so many things I’d wanted to say about that when I’d called him. “I’m really bothered by it. I’m mad. I’m confused. I’m freaked out. I feel…violated.”

“Of course you do. You should feel all those things.” He wasn’t patronizing, but not apologetic either.

“You’re damn right I should feel those things.” I was irked at his lack of remorse. “I think I hate you for it.”

“Do you?” he challenged.

I opened my mouth to answer when he added, “Remember it’s no fun if you’re not honest.”

“I hate you for it,” I repeated, softer this time. I closed my eyes, scared of the next part, the words I hadn’t said aloud to anyone, not even Audrey. “But I’m also fascinated. That you’re fascinated with me. That does things to me. It makes me feel safe. And wanted. And looked after. It turns me on.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “I don’t mean sexually.” But I did mean sexually too. “Does that mean I’m crazy?”

He laughed softly. “Probably.”

He stretched his legs out, more relaxed than he had been when we’d first gotten in the car. He scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a sigh. “I forget how much I can trust you. I should have done that.”

There it was. Remorse. He felt remorse.

“Before running away to France?” I clarified.

“I didn’t…run away. Exactly.” He smiled ever so slightly, and my pulse beat double-time.

“You did run away. Because you didn’t want me to find out about that file?” I was still putting pieces together, slipping them in where they seemed to fit best.

“When Amanda found out about her file, she was the one running away.”

“So you thought you’d be the one to run away first this time?”

“I don’t know, Sabrina,” he said with a frustrated huff. “Yes.” After he’d thought about it a second. “Okay, yes.” He looked somewhere in the distance. “I don’t trust how I would handle losing you. It’s better if the ties are cut on my terms. It’s safer for both of us. For you, especially.”

“But you’re here…”

His eyes returned to mine. “Because you called.”

“Which means you’re willing to consider the possibility of not losing me.”

He searched my face. “Is that a possibility? Not losing you? Even knowing what you know now?”

Fuck, we weren’t ever actually together and here we were talking in such enormity. Donovan had done that. Had put all this weight on our entire relationship by having been there for parts of my life I hadn’t realized he’d ever been part of.

So even though I wanted to crawl into his lap or kneel at his feet, even though I ached to touch him, I couldn’t. Not yet.

“I need to process this,” I said, not allowing myself to sound regretful.

“Whatever you need. Just tell me.” His eyes darted to my lips, and I wondered if he’d kiss me.

Or I wished he’d kiss me.

But kisses weren’t what I needed. “I need answers. There’s so much I still don’t understand.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

I studied his eyes. “I think you actually mean that.”

“If you’re going to test me, Sabrina, just test me.” He sounded almost annoyed, and I had to bite back a laugh. He’d tested me so many times, but turn the tables on him, and he couldn’t take the heat.

“Not now. Now I need to go home.” I glanced out the window. We’d been driving around Midtown aimlessly while we’d talked, but we were only a few blocks away from my apartment. “You should drop me off.”

Donovan waited a beat as though he wished I’d asked for something else. But then he leaned forward. “Next time around, John.”

“I won’t be able to get out to open her door here with the snow piles,” the driver warned.

“That’s fine,” I said, before Donovan could say otherwise.

We were quiet for the next few minutes, but both of us were right there, present, aware of each other’s every move. Every breath. I wondered what he was thinking. But I couldn’t ask because I didn’t have room for anymore on top of all that I was thinking.

And then we were almost at my apartment, and I already missed him.

“We can talk after Audrey’s gone,” I told him, feeling terrible that I wished it wasn’t a week away.

“When does she leave?” Was I imagining how eager he sounded?

“Sunday morning at ten-thirty.”

“I’ll be at your place at ten-thirty-one.”

I chuckled. It felt good to laugh. No, it felt good to have a date planned, to have something to look forward to, to know that we weren’t yet done.

I peeked over at him and found him staring at me. Really staring.

“What?” I asked suddenly self-conscious.

“I’m thinking about asking if I can kiss you.”

My heart did the sort of acrobatic flip it hadn’t done since I was a teenager.

God I wanted that kiss.

But I wasn’t ready to admit that. “You say you know me, and all of a sudden you think I want to be asked?”

He smirked. With that devil’s smirk that had taunted and teased me for so many weeks.

The car pulled over to the side of the road, angled next to a bank of snow.

I undid my seatbelt.

Then Donovan undid his seatbelt. And he leaned across me, caging me in without touching me. I was suddenly too hot again. My heart beat too loud. My breathing grew faster as I waited for him to bend down and press his lips to mine.

But all he did was pull the lever on the door and push it open.

My eyes pricked unexpectedly. I was going to blame it on the rush of cold air. It didn’t matter. This was a start. We’d made a start.

I put one foot on the ground and bent forward to step out. Suddenly Donovan’s hand was cupping my face, pulling me back, and when I turned, my mouth crashed into his.

I sighed into his kiss, letting his eager lips tell me all the things he hadn’t had time to say. Letting his mouth remind me that he’d confessed feelings I had yet to absorb. Letting his tongue make dirty filthy promises of nights to come.

When he broke the kiss—much too soon—I stared at him with glossy eyes.

“You hold the cards right now, Sabrina,” he said, his nose almost touching mine. “But don’t begin to think I’ve forgotten who’s in charge.”

He brushed his lips across mine once more, then pulled away entirely. “You better go before your sister worries.”

I was in the building and he’d driven away before I was sure I remembered how to breathe.