Sitting on the bed in one of Natalie’s guest rooms, Ginny drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her body, mind, and soul were exhausted. Kat and Natalie were in the kitchen, having some wine to ease the stress of the day, but Ginny needed to be alone.

For starters, being around the other women caused guilt to overwhelm her. Kat had been forced to shoot a man in her own home and now Natalie was putting herself at risk by housing her. She’d never even met Kat before today and Natalie was merely a casual acquaintance. Yet, Ginny owed both women so much. She’d never be able to repay them.

Then there was Tony. He could have been killed earlier tonight.

And it was all because of her.

She’d made so many poor decisions and the ripples from those decisions reached far and wide. It all started with her decision to marry Fedor—

No, that wasn’t true. It started with her father mismanaging the company. Then Veronica and Barry—she still couldn’t bear to accept the fact that her sister was probably a murderer. Lastly, there was Fedor. He’d blackmailed her and then beat her up.

The more she thought about it, the more the layers of guilt turned to anger. No, she wasn’t totally to blame. She’d made some questionable decisions, but the worst ones that set everything in motion? Those weren’t her. She wasn’t taking the full blame.

Screw Fedor.

She couldn’t believe she’d actually agreed to marry that corrupt excuse for a man. The last six months were surreal and looking back on them was like having an out-of-body experience—one she desperately wanted to forget and erase from her mind. If only that were possible.

There was a knock on the door and she looked up. “Come in.”

Tony opened the door a crack and stuck his head in before walking all the way in. He sat on the edge of the bed, dropping the bag he carried on the floor and resting his elbows on his knees. His hair was damp and he wore clean jeans and a T-shirt, the evidence of his earlier fight gone.

Thank God.

She never wanted to see him bloody and broken again. Part of her died inside when she’d thought he’d been hurt because of her. It turned out she was wrong and he was right—he could take care of himself and wasn’t broken at all.

“How are you?” he asked, his eyes saying so much more than his words.

Tired, heartbroken, guilty. But alive. And so were her friends and family.

And the man she loved was sitting in front of her.

The tightness in her chest loosened. She’d cared about him—probably even loved him—for years. And now she could be honest about it. It was freeing.

She loved Tony.

And more than that, she was falling in love with him.

He cared about her, too. That much was obvious. Talk about surreal.

“Okay, all things considered,” she said. “I’m more worried about you.” Her eyes landed on his arms. No, he definitely wasn’t broken, but maybe a little bruised.

The edge of his mouth quirked up as Tony gestured to the marks on his forearms. “This? This is nothing.”

Remembering the blood-covered shirt that he wore earlier, Ginny gave him a bland look. “If that’s nothing, then I’d hate to see what you consider something.”

“You should have seen the other guy.”

Ginny smiled, but Tony’s attempt at humor fell flat. She couldn’t laugh about this. Not yet. “Where did you go?”

He’d taken longer than it should have for him to just run to his apartment.

“To my parents’ house. I needed to confront my father and give him a chance to the do right thing.”

“Of course you did.” Ginny understood perfectly. Wasn’t that why she hadn’t turned Veronica over to the cops? Well, that and the fact that she personally didn’t have the evidence, so she didn’t know for sure what the truth was.

But what would the right thing be in Veronica’s case? She couldn’t go back and undo what she’d done. There was no way to make it right. The best she could do was turn herself in and accept punishment for killing her husband. Premeditated murder. That was such a loaded term, but that’s what it was.

Unless there was another reason. Perhaps he was abusive or . . . something. Yet, though Ginny wanted to believe her sister wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, even she couldn’t convince herself that sweet, mild-mannered Barry was abusive.

“I sent my mom and Nonna out of town,” he said. “They’re leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s smart,” Ginny commented. “I’m glad you did that.”

Neither commented on what he didn’t say—if his father was going to do the right thing. They both knew he wasn’t. But at least Tony’s conscience could be clear when all was said and done. He’d tried.

Ginny wondered if she could convince her parents to take a trip, but nixed the idea before it even fully formed. They didn’t have the money for a vacation, her father needed to keep the company afloat until Ginny could come back, and her mother was in the middle of preparing for a big art show. No, she wouldn’t be able to convince them to leave, not unless she told them the truth. And even then, it was doubtful. They wouldn’t leave Ginny to fend for herself.

And when she told them about Veronica . . . that was a when, not an if. Ginny couldn’t keep that secret. It would come out, probably soon, and Ginny wanted to tell her parents before they heard it on the media.

Tony stared down at the ground, his shoulders slightly slumped—probably from the weight of all he’d been carrying the last few days.

She observed his profile—the strong line of his jaw, his biceps that were flexed from his arms being bent, his hands, strong and capable. As she soaked up every inch of him, waves of emotion slammed into her.

Fear. Longing. But most of all, hope.

Now that she had Tony, she realized just how alone she’d been the past few months. She’d had no one on her side. She’d had no one to confide in, no one to help her achieve the clarity she needed to make the right decisions.

But now she was seeing clearly. And her future was right in front of her—all six-foot-something sexiness of him. He took her breath away. Not just because of the desire she felt for him, but because of everything he was.

She released her knees and crawled toward him. She sat, her legs tucked under her, and ran her fingers along the red marks on his temple that weren’t there this morning. Had it just been earlier today that they’d first made love? Years—no, decades had passed.

She touched her mouth lightly to his, lingering there to feel the softness of his lips.

She reached down for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up. As he raised his arms, the muscles in his side rippled. The sight sent a jolt of heat to her core.

She tossed his shirt on the floor and straddled him, pressing her lips to his. Her teeth nipped at his lower lip. He yanked on her shirt and seconds later it joined his on the floor.

Through his jeans, she could feel his hardness and she ground herself against him. He groaned, taking her full breast in his hand. Her nipple hardened to a peak and she titled her head back. He ran his tongue along her throat.

She fumbled with the button of his jeans. Taking her lead, he lifted her off his lap and laid her on the bed. She watched as he stripped off his pants—the view his tall muscular body was enough to make her desire ratchet up a notch.

But it wasn’t just his impressive physique—it was him. The tender way he looked at her, the gentle way his hands caressed her skin, the care he took with her body and soul.

She wanted more than that, though. They’d both just escaped dangerous situations—maybe even death—and she needed to feel alive.

He rested his hands on either side of her, supporting his weight as his tongue teased hers. She pulled him toward her, then rolled with him so they were laying on their sides, the lengths of their bodies pressed together.

Her hands traveled all over his skin. He tugged on her pants, inching them down. Agony. Too slow. She pulled them the rest of the way off, along with her panties.

“Ginny,” he breathed. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” She pulled his face to his, swallowing the last of his words. He made her feel like a goddess, worthy of worship.

His fingers found her folds and stroked, tantalizing her clit until she had trouble breathing.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand away. “I want you inside me. I want to come with you inside me.”

He produced a condom and she took it from him, then rolled the latex onto his length. She straddled him, leaning down to kiss his mouth.

His fingers danced across her back and she arched, bringing her opening into contact with him. He guided himself to her entrance and she lowered herself slowly onto him.

She laced her hand with his to brace herself, then worked her hips, setting the rhythm.

Her eyes locked onto his and her heart clenched at the love she saw there. Neither one of them had said the words, but words weren’t necessary.

He used his free hand to massage her clit and she spread her legs wider, pressing down harder onto him. He hit just the right spot inside her and she cried out as a wave of pleasure hit her.

He thrust his hips upward, planting himself even deeper. She moaned, her hips pausing.

“Keep going,” he said, “I want to watch you come.”

She increased her rhythm and ripples of pleasure shot through her. She tightened around him as the climax rolled over her. He growled her name and thrust upwards twice more, his body going rigid as he claimed his release.

She collapsed on top of him, utterly and beautifully spent.

* * *

The next morning, Ginny stared down at Tony as he slept. One arm was flung carelessly over his head and the other reached out to the space in the bed she’d just vacated. His eyelids stayed firmly closed and his breathing was deep and even. He wasn’t waking up anytime soon. He must have been exhausted.

She desperately wanted to press her lips to his, but she didn’t want to wake him. She’d let him get the much-needed sleep.

Ginny had only gotten a few hours’ sleep last night, but she felt recharged and energized, ready to take on the day. She quietly dressed and with one last reluctant look at Tony, she set out for the kitchen.

The house—no, mansion—was huge, so it took her a few minutes to find her way, even though she’d been in the kitchen yesterday. Natalie should have a bin of maps available in the parlor, like at amusement parks.

The kitchen in this house was unbelievable. Stainless steel industrial appliances, granite countertops for miles, fully stocked pantry, and walk-in refrigerator and freezer. It was a chef’s wet dream.

Ginny wasn’t a chef, but she enjoyed cooking and baking enough to appreciate everything there was to offer here.

She’d never be able to repay Natalie and Kat for their kindness, but at least she could make them breakfast. After surveying what was on hand, she decided to make French toast with a side of sausage and maybe some scrambled eggs. But there were fresh blueberries—blueberry pancakes would also be nice.

She’d make it all. If Knox’s appetite was anything like Tony’s, none of it would go to waste.

She cracked some eggs into a bowl and added milk, then whisked the mixture while she waited for the griddle to heat—it was one of those fancy ones built right into the stovetop. She added that to her mental kitchen wish list and filed it away in the someday category of her mind.

The first batch of French toast was just coming off the griddle when Natalie and Knox wandered in.

“Oh my God, that smells heavenly,” Natalie said. She inhaled deeply as she poured two cups of coffee.

“Hell, yeah,” Knox said. “Ginny, you can come over anytime.”

She laughed. “You haven’t even tasted anything yet.”

“I don’t need to. I can smell it.”

“Well, thanks. And for that compliment, you can have the first serving.” Ginny plated the French toast and added a generous serving of sausage. Glancing over at Knox’s watering mouth, she added another link to the pile.

“My father used to have a cook, but I dismissed most of the staff that worked for him and haven’t gotten around to hiring anyone new,” Natalie said. “It seems kind of a waste, anyway. It’s just the two of us and we’re not here very much.”

“I enjoy cooking,” Ginny said, dunking more bread in the batter. “It relaxes me.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy it, nor am I good at it,” Natalie admitted. “Knox is actually a better cook than me.”

Knox chuckled. “And that’s not saying much. My food is edible, but it doesn’t taste like anything.”

Kat walked in heading straight for the coffee. She poured herself a cup and took a long sip. “Ah, now I’m human again.” She looked around. “Breakfast? Score!”

Ginny laughed. “I’ll have more ready in just a minute.”

“Serve Kat first,” Natalie said. “She has to leave for work soon.”

Ginny flipped the French toast, almost dropping it as Tony’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against his hard body. She closed her eyes and leaned back against him. The feel of his body against hers was enough to make her insides go hot.

He nuzzled her neck. “I woke up and you were gone.”

“I wanted to let you sleep.”

He spun her around and devoured her mouth, his tongue lapping at hers as his hands cupped her ass, pulling her against him.

“Dude, we’re getting some home cooking around here,” Knox said. “Don’t mess it up for us.”

Ginny’s eyes widened and she tried to push away from Tony, but he held her firm, extending his arm to give Knox the middle finger.

Tony stole one last kiss. After letting her go, he sauntered over to the coffee leaving Ginny to catch her breath.

He’d stolen it away.

She turned back to the stove. “Damn.” This batch had gotten a little darker than she would have liked.

The intercom buzzed.

“Yes?” Natalie asked loudly.

“There’s a woman here at the gate and she’s insistent that I let her in,” a voice said. “I’ve already told her no visitors are allowed at this time. She refuses to leave. Would you like me to call the authorities?”

Silence stretched on for a moment or two as everyone exchanged glances.

“Hold on,” Natalie said. She retrieved a remote from the drawer and pushed a few buttons. A security image appeared on the television mounted on the wall.

It was as Ginny feared. Veronica had found her.

Again.