“I’m sorry,” Dison said to the banker, his heart pounding wildly, “can you repeat that?”

The woman in the navy pant suit with the peacock brooch blinked at him twice, but calmly and professionally repeated her statement. “Your account has been withdrawn to the maximum. A transfer was made for the whole amount three days ago, with your password and confirmation.” She gazed at her screen as though to verify, then folded her hands together.

Who? What? He was broke? All that money he’d saved—was gone? “There must be some mistake. I never made any such transfer. Get your manager. Now.”

The woman gave a single nod, concern on her face as she walked away to find her superior. “Right away, sir.”

Dison felt the wind knocked out of him, but he kept his composure. He looked at Rebekah, who met his gaze with sympathy. “Ivan?” she guessed.

“Had to be.”

“But how?”

“His daughter Marina. Her hacking skills are getting better and better apparently.”

Rebekah’s eyes widened, even under the shadow of the wide brim hat he’d purchased for her, she was radiant. It was a rainy day in Geneva, and they were able to go to the bank during day hours, the sun’s direct rays not enough to pierce the dense clouds. However, he made her wear a hat and stay under his umbrella during the short walk from the hotel to the bank, the UV rays still devastating to a vampire’s health if they were outside too long.

“Surely a Swiss bank can’t be hacked into that easily,” Rebekah said. “They are the best in the world.”

“And so is Marina,” he drawled, rapidly spinning alternatives in his head, as though there were any. That was the only liquidity he had. Everything else was tied up. Nothing he could dump and take for cash with any swiftness. Ivan really did hate him.

All he had was the one gold coin in the safe back at the hotel. The same hotel that cost £750 a night that he’d insisted they reserved because he wanted Rebekah to have the best, even though she said she would’ve been fine in basic lodging.

He didn’t do basic, and neither should she. He’d paid with a credit card with his fake name and ID, lowering their chances of being found. Obviously, Ivan knew Dison would come for his money eventually, and that hotel room suddenly became too expensive to stay another night.

He slammed a fist on the desk, grabbing the attention of bankers and customers, and startling Rebekah.

“We should leave,” she said, flicking a look at the people behind him. “You know they won’t be able to help us. They’ll open an investigation and ask questions. The longer we’re here, the more vulnerable we are.”

She was right. Their time was limited; they had to keep moving. The chances of him getting his money back were less than zero.

He stood up, the sinking stone in his gut settling hard and uncomfortably. “Let’s go.”

Back at the hotel, he counted what he had left in cash. A couple thousand. Not an amount that eased his mind. He sighed, resting his hands on the fine work desk, head hung. He couldn’t protect Rebekah now. He had nothing.

Her hand rested on his shoulder blade, and she rubbed soothingly. “It’ll be all right—”

“No, it won’t,” he clipped, jerking away from her. “Almost half a million…gone. More than enough to live on until I figured things out. Now what? I’m just as poor as they day we met. Except this time, I’m on a forsaken path. Now I know how Marex feels.” How he wished he could reach out and get his advice. But Marex and Nadine were so deep in seclusion not even his closest lieutenants knew where he was, and no one outside of his small inner circle would, not until the Centurias.

“Is money your entire identity, Dison?”

He whipped around. “Do I not have a right to be angry about losing over two million pounds?”

“You have every right! But it’s a bump in the road, not the end of it. Obviously it would’ve been grand to have that kind of money for security, but Ivan stole it, and right now there is nothing you can do about it. We have to move on.”

“How?” he asked a little too harshly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll think of something.”

“In the meantime, I have some money in my savings that’ll get us where we need to go next.”

“I’ll take care of us. I just need to think.”

The frustration glowed in her eyes. “What does it matter if it’s my money?”

“It matters to me.”

“That’s silly! My money is our money now. I’m your pürist, Dison. We’re in this together. We can’t sit on our laurels because of your pride!”

“It’s not pride, it’s what I promised! We deserve better.”

She came toward him, angry. “You don’t get it, do you? I told you I don’t need fancy things or five star hotels or expensive clothes to feel loved. You love me and want to take care of me, but the fact is I’ve been taking care of myself with a lot less for a long time. Please, Dison. Rid this notion that others with money are better off than we are. They aren’t! You know they aren’t any happier.”

He grasped her upper arms. “But you are good. Money buys us more than a luxury hotel room. It buys us time, protection. Comfort. Security. We need it for the Centurias, which was your idea by accepting that key! You deserve to be up there with them, to show them what they are no better than you. Because they aren’t.”

She pushed off his hands. “Stop it! I don’t want to be one of them. I just wanted to help you and Marex. I don’t want to spearhead an insurrection of new, righteous upper class vampires who know right from wrong. I want to be me. I want you to be you. Isn’t that enough?”

“It isn’t and you know it.”

Her eyes became watery. “Then maybe we don’t want the same thing after all.”

Why were they fighting? Why couldn’t she understand? He loved her so much, and yet the emotions of years ago crept up his chest and choked his throat. The emotions that had gripped him those last days with her. That he was losing her. Even though they were avowed, it didn’t mean she couldn’t walk away from him again. It didn’t mean she couldn’t demand he undo his remnant. By the gods, if he lost her again, his world would detonate.

But at this moment, they were not seeing eye to eye, and he could tell she needed her space, as did he.

“I’m going out,” he told her, moving around her to grab his jacket. It was evening now, and a good walk in the nighttime rain would clear his head.

She remained standing where she was as he headed to the door.

* * *

Half an hour later, a bartender pushed another shot of vodka his way. “Trinkst du wegen einer frau?” he asked.

Do you drink because of a woman?

Dison shook his head. “No.” He pointed to his chest. “I drink because of me.”

“Ah! Englishman. Welcome.”

Dison raised his shot glass. “Thank you.”

“Why the long face? Tell me.”

Dison remained silent for a long stretch, not keen to the idea of sharing his woes with a stranger in a bar, but he was buzzed enough not to care. “I don’t know who I am. I just know I don’t want to be what I was. Does that make sense?”

The bartender nodded, resting his hands on the edge of the bar. “Sure, sure.”

“I thought I was ready to leave behind this life I’d built. I finally have the woman of my dreams and I can’t—do what I planned to do. I’m penniless. Directionless. And my previous employer wants me to suffer for something I didn’t do.”

The older man’s brow raised to his thinning hairline. “Drink up. You do have enough coin to pay for the drinks though, don’t you?” Dison laid down a bill and the bartender smiled. “Don’t think you’re good enough for your woman? Had she said so?”

He ran a hand through his damp hair from the rain. “No. But she would never say such a thing. She’s so beautiful, inside and out. She claims she doesn’t need what I want to give her, but it’s not about that, it’s about me fulfilling a promise I made to her. I won’t feel right if I don’t live up to it.”

The man twisted his mustached lips. “Hm. Does she love you?”

A flash of the love in her eyes as he was deep inside her came to his vision. “Yes, she does.”

He slapped the bar. “What the hell are you doing in here? Sounds like it’s all about you, you, you when you should be thinking of her.”

“I am!” Dison groaned, his voice thick with liquor.

“No, you’re not. You’re feeling sorry for you. Sounds like a good woman. Better go to her before she gets wise and dumps you for some rich prick on the hill.”

Dison left the bar and took the bartender’s advice. With every step he took, a desperation sparked hotter and brighter within, as he pictured walking into an empty hotel with a note that she’d left. Would she? Even though they were avowed? Yes. She was strong. Much stronger than him. And she didn’t need a man’s remnant for protection, she only accepted his because she didn’t want another, and never would.

He groaned at his lack of sense. If she left him, he would find her and beg for her forgiveness on his knees until they bled, and then would keep crawling until she came back to him.

Breath held, he opened the door to the opulent hotel room. He’d been gone an hour, but it was eerily quiet.

“Rebekah?” he called, the desperation in his voice obvious.

No answer. Gut twisting with dread, he marched from the living area to the bedroom, and saw her clothes on the floor. He let out a relieved breath when he heard water splashing in the bathroom.

He eased open the door to find her in the tub, earphones on, listening to music on her mobile.

She looked up, and removed the earphones. There was relief in her eyes, and a smile on her lips. “Oh, Dison...”

Something inside shattered. More than likely, it was his damned pride.

He took off his jacket and shoes.

She leaned over the edge of the tub. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be critical or put pressure on you—”

Rushing over, he bent down and captured her lips, forcing them open and drawing in her sweet kiss. He knew he tasted like bitter vodka, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t wait. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’d be lost without you. So lost.” Heedless of his state of dress, he climbed in the water on top of her, bracing his hands on the sides of the tub and dipped his head for another kiss.

“Dison!” she laughed on his mouth globs of water dumped over the sides. She then moaned while his tongue eased between her lips. The warm, sudsy water enveloped him, banishing the bitter cold from the outdoors.

Rebekah opened her legs and welcomed him in, wrapped her arms around his neck and arching her soft, womanly body into his.

He moved his right arm under her back and lifted her closer to his form, kissing down her neck and murmuring his sincerest apologies like a broken record.

She sighed, and let him take in the sweet scent of her wet skin. “You’re drunk.”

“And stupid.”

Locking his arm, he turned and trade places, with her on top, straddling him, nipples puckering from the cool air. He dropped his head back on the edge and cupped her breasts, full and weighty in his large hands. By the gods, her skin was such a contrast to his, so soft and flawless. He ran his palms along her sides to her ass and squeezed. His cock hardened, but he just wanted his eyes to take her in for a while and glory in his massive good fortune. Fortune that had nothing to do with money.

“I love the way you look at me,” she said, cocking her head and unbuttoning his shirt. “No one else ever has the way you do. No one else was ever supposed to, I guess.”

“How do I look at you?” he asked.

“Like I’m perfect.”

He let out a dry sound. “You are.” And he was imperfect so they balanced each other out.

“If you say so, Dison Huxford. I’ll try not to let it to go to my head.”

“Speaking of head…” He pushed his hips up to make a point without another word.

She moaned, biting down on her bottom lip, finished unbuttoning his shirt.

“Remember the first time we made love in a bathtub?” he asked hoarsely, getting more and more aroused, imagining her slick pussy gloving his cock, her nipple in his mouth while she rode him.

“Oh, yes, I remember that night. We made quite the mess.”

He started to sit up. “Let’s make another one.”

She placed her finger over his lips. “After we talk.”

Caught in the frenzy of desire, he moaned his disappointed in any delay, hard as stone and aching to fuck. “Rebekah. Please.”

“You’re not even undressed.”

“That can be remedied.” His teeth came down and he ran his tongue along them, rocking his hips up and holding hers down, loving the sound and sensation of the water lapping around them.

He could tell her body was starting to respond, needing his, and overtaking her will.

“But I have an idea,” she complained, starting to unbuckle his pants.

“And I want to hear it. After we come.”

* * *

Dison got his way. She succumbed to him as she always would. The mess they made was too much for the towels they had. Rebekah imagined the cleaning staff would be quite cross with them when they came upon the pile of wet towels in the bathroom, but, who cared? They were paying too much money to really give a damn.

Later on, they put on the expensive robes and sat facing each other next to the fireplace with a small table between them. They’d ordered a charcuterie plate from room service.

“What’s this idea of yours?” he asked, sounding exactly like a man who was open to hearing anything after amazing sex.

Her lips curved. She plucked a Kalamata olive from the board. “I always have a fallback plan should I go too long without being paid. An emergency plan B. I’ve only had to use this a time or two, but we’re in a desperate situation to make money fast. I can’t do a job on the run. My savings will only get us to the next city and I refuse to ask anyone for money.”

“As do I. What do you need to do?”

“I have several pieces I can sell on the hush-hush market. I try very hard not to do it except in dire times.”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because it can be…hazardous.”

His throat moved as he swallowed the piece of cheese he’d chewed. “How hazardous, Rebekah?”

Her voice pitched high to put his mind at ease. “No more than we already are! I’m just saying once I put the word out, things tend to get competitive, and I attract a nefarious character or two looking to rob me and steal the artifact or whatever for themselves. It’s a little tricky, but like I said, I’ve done it before.”

“If anything is going to place you in more danger then I say no.”

She gave a reproachful look, picking up another olive with a toothpick. “We don’t have any other viable choices. All we have to do is get to Paris, pick up the piece from storage, meet up with the buyer, and be on our way with the cash. Unlike the last time I tried this, I’ll have you to watch over me. The item will be small enough that we can do it incognito in public, rather than transferring a large piece from a truck in a dark alley. I did that once. Never again.” She deliberately shivered, then realized Dison could be even more concerned if she relayed the details of that scary exchange. “Oh, but it turned out fine! I just prefer something I can carry. Big items are big pains.”

His gaze dropped and moved toward the fire. “I don’t know… I don’t like going into situations I’ve never been in before. I can’t anticipate the outcome.”

Just as he couldn’t with Kristof Miocic, she was sure. “But I have done this before and nothing bad has ever happened to me. Please, let me do this for us. You deserted your entire life in London. You deserve a fresh start and time to think about what you’re going to do for Marex and his cause. Not to mention the fact we can’t show up at the Centurias without two coins to rub together.”

While he’d been gone on his walk—apparently so he could drink and brood—she realized Dison was right. If they were going to make a play to help convince the elite to unite shifters and vampires, they were going to have to rub elbows with them, which meant showing up dressed like them, gambling with them, showing off like them. And that would take considerable money. She wasn’t even sure she had one dress for the many nights of glitter and glam the Centurias put on.

If they were going to go forward with his plan to help Marex, then they needed to look the part. Many vampires in the past had spent a lifetime’s worth of money just to go to the week-long celebration, only to accomplish nothing for their futures. She and Dison had an agenda; the money wouldn’t be for nothing. It was a necessary evil.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, leaning over to try and catch his gaze.

He met her eyes. “You know I do.”

“So what do you think? Want to try your hand as a clandestine art dealer?”

With a sigh, he sat back in his chair, the firelight dancing over his gaze. He looked absolutely kingly and deliciously dark in this light, arousing her so effortlessly by a mere glance.

The corner of his mouth lifted wryly. “Next stop: Paris.”