As soon as the door is closed, I run to grab my purse and my phone. I have zero cell service and no Internet connection, both of which must be controlled by Mount. I wait about two minutes before I head for the door and try the knob.

It turns freely.

In his fury, the all-powerful Mount forgot the most important thing—you can’t keep an unwilling prisoner in an unlocked cell.

I dash into the hallway, retracing the path we used last night until I reach the courtyard. The hallways are silent and empty, and I don’t give a damn if the cameras catch me. My goal is to be out of the gate and gone before he can reach me.

I don’t know if it’s the good Lord smiling down on me or a twist of fate finally working in my favor, but the courtyard gate is secured with a double dead bolt from the inside and not a key.

As soon as I hit the cracked sidewalk of a familiar block of the French Quarter, I take my first breath of freedom, but I know I can’t waste any time appreciating it. I sprint down the street to one where I know there will be cabs waiting, expecting Mount or Scar to yank me back into the shadows at any moment.

But they don’t.

Probably too busy covering up a double homicide.

I slide into the first cab that stops and give the driver the address to my apartment. I know it sounds stupid, but I’m hoping Mount will assume I’m too smart to go there, which will buy me some time. Maybe.

The cabdriver fights traffic while I grasp my apartment keys in my purse until the sharp metal edges make my eyes sting with tears. I have to keep it together, even though I feel like everything is splintering out of control. I can’t risk going to the police because I have no idea who is on Mount’s payroll. More than one, I would bet on that.

Nothing is what it seems. Or maybe everything is exactly as it seems. Mount is the villain here. He manipulated me, and I fell under his spell. End of story.

As soon as we reach my block, I toss some cash at the cabbie and run up the sidewalk to the door. Again, I’m expecting to be captured at any moment, and God knows what they’ll do to me now. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by finding the gun I keep locked in my nightstand drawer. After I have some way to protect myself, I’ll find a cop who isn’t on Mount’s payroll.

As soon as I step into my apartment, I scan every surface in the open kitchen and living room area. It doesn’t look like anyone has been here.

I race to the bedroom, intent on getting the gun and as many rounds as I have left in the box of ammo. I have to be ready because I know he’ll come for me.

When I rush for the nightstand drawer, there’s a box on the bed that brings me to a halt. A black one. The same type that carried each of the sex toys Mount used on me.

I grab it off my bed and fling it at the wall, not caring about the dent it will leave. I expect a vibrator or a butt plug to fall to the floor, but neither do.

What looks like a pair of underwear and a piece of paper flutter to the floor.

What the hell?

Looking over my shoulder out of instinct, I slowly cross the room and crouch down to retrieve them.

I expect the bold handwriting I’ve come to know as Mount’s, but the curving feminine letters were written by my own hand.

I remember writing the note all too vividly.

---

---

Reading the familiar words drops me to my knees. I grab black fabric. It’s a thong I bought specifically to match the jeweled bra I wore under my gown for Bal Masqué.

It was just after Brett and I met and we were still in the sexy, flirtatious phase, which quickly turned into a whirlwind courtship. We got married the next day, in large part because of the events of that night.

How could Mount have these?

A chill snakes down my spine as my memory of that night returns.

---

Seven Months Earlier

I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but God, it finally felt good to take control and demand what I wanted. What I needed. This was the test, the true test to find out if Brett could be the man who would give me what I’d been missing my whole life.

I slipped into the dark alcove, away from the dancing, hoping he’d gotten the note. If not, I’d be going home disappointed and sexually frustrated.

Basically, my normal state in life, it seemed, especially lately.

I looked down at the watch I wore, even though it didn’t go with my outfit, because I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the midnight deadline.

I needed a man who wasn’t afraid to take charge, and I didn’t know how I could be any clearer about what I needed other than to spell it out like I did in my note. This was make or break for Brett and me, as far as I was concerned.

Both hands of my watch landed on the twelve, and I turned toward the wall in the hidden alcove that was known for trysts. Honestly, I was lucky to find it empty. Well, not lucky. As soon as people saw me here for the last half hour, they moved off to find another likely location.

I wanted what they were having.

Why was that so much to ask for?

Heavy footsteps sounded on the marble floor behind me and I stilled, keeping my face toward the wall. My nipples peaked and I clenched my thighs together in anticipation. I was already wet and ready, since I’d been thinking about how incredible this night could be.

A hand closed over my bare shoulder, and when I tried to spin around, his other hand gripped me by the waist, pushing me toward the wall before binding my hands with something soft. Silk?

Thank you, Lord!

He didn’t say anything, and the unique scent of citrus mingled with spice and woodsy notes stole over me, kicking up my desire another notch. The hand on my waist gripped the skirt of my long ball gown and yanked it up until cool air rushed over my thong-clad behind. I wondered if he could see the sparkling crystals winking in the dim light. It was probably dumb to buy special lingerie for this occasion, but I was ever the optimist.

He groaned as he cupped my ass and squeezed hard, no hesitation in his touch. Only the dominance I needed.

Again, I tried to turn my head but he wouldn’t let me, wrapping a hand around my throat and pulling me back against him as his decadent scent washed over me.

The gesture said it all. He was in control and I was at his mercy, which was exactly what I wanted.

Releasing my throat, he wrapped my hair in his hand and forced me to bend forward a few more inches.

One foot nudged mine, and I spread my legs for him willingly.

“Please.” The plea came out as a moan, and he met it with a deep growl.

He released my hair to slide his hand between my legs. My thong was soaked. My desire dripped down my thighs, but I wasn’t ashamed of it. His deep groan told me he thought it was sexy as hell.

He tucked a finger under the back strap of the thong and followed it down to the part that was drenched with my slickness. That’s when he truly turned into the barbarian I’d been hoping he would be.

His grip went to the top band and he shredded the delicate lace, tearing it from my hips. He wasted no time finding my clit and teasing it with slow circles before plunging a thick finger inside me.

“Ahhhh.” When he paused at my breathy moan, I urged him on. “No. Don’t stop. Please. You have to fuck me. I swear I’ll die if I don’t have you inside me right now.”

A growl of satisfaction met my ears and he finger-fucked me, alternating with teasing my clit until my orgasm burst through me. His hand disappeared as pleasure swamped me, but only for a moment. The music from the ball faded away as I focused on the sounds right behind. A zipper. The crinkle of foil as he tore open a condom.

Thank God one of us was thinking, because I’d lost all normal brain function at this point.

With one hand, he pinned the skirt of my dress to my back and guided his cock to my entrance with the other. As soon as he fit it against my slick heat, he plunged forward, burying himself with a single thrust.

I sucked in a ragged breath as his thickness stretched me decadently, almost to the point of pain, but all I felt was pleasure. My moans turned into cries, and he released his hold on my dress and covered my mouth with his hand while he fucked into me over and over, harder and deeper with each thrust. A scream threatened to leave my lips, and my only choice was to dig my teeth into the palm covering my mouth, not even caring that I might leave marks. His mouth dropped to the curve where my shoulder met my neck, and his teeth scraped across my skin before sucking hard.

My orgasm shattered inside me as he tore his mouth away, but he didn’t stop his movements. He dropped his hand from my mouth and released mine from their bondage, bringing one to my lips to silence myself so he could continue to work my clit and fuck me harder and deeper at the same time.

I didn’t do nearly as good a job at covering the sound of my orgasm as he did. I was pretty sure the entire ballroom heard me yell, “Yes! God, yes!” as another one ripped through me.

My inner muscles clamped down on his thick cock as it pulsed inside me, his orgasm filling me with a sense of power.

I did that.

And it was fucking incredible.

He pulled out of me and I lost my balance, stumbling to the side as I tried to right my skirt. He steadied me with a hand on my waist before crouching down. I leaned against the wall, still attempting to catch my breath. The grin on my face widened as I realized I’d finally found the one. The man who could give me all the things I needed.

But when I turned around, he was gone.

Disappointment slammed into me, but then I realized he was just following through with my request. Say nothing. Just take me.

And he did.

Spectacularly.

As I took a step to leave the alcove, I remembered my torn panties. There was definitely no way I wanted to leave those lying around for someone to find and speculate as to their ownership. I searched the marble floor almost blindly, but found nothing.

Well, hell. It wasn’t like I could wear them again anyway.

I left the ballroom with the biggest smile on my face that I’d had in years, and feeling like the queen of this masquerade.

Tomorrow, I was going to talk Brett into eloping.

---

Present day

That scent. The same fucking scent that hung in my office after Mount delivered his ultimatum. And those hands. The way he touched me.

God, I replayed that scene from the masquerade in my head so many times to get myself off after Brett would roll over, satisfied after a few pumps, and leave me wondering what the hell happened to the man who took me like he owned me that night.

All the similarities . . . His groans. His growls. The way he took without apology. The way he fucked me the way I needed to be fucked.

I already knew my marriage was based on a web of lies, but didn’t realize that the very foundation of my decision to marry Brett was based on deception too.

There’s no doubt in my mind that somehow, some way, Mount found that note and decided to meet me that night. How he knew who I was or why he decided to do it, I have no idea.

But what does that change?

Nothing.

After the last few days, I know he can play my body better than any man I’ve ever met—save one. The only competition he had was himself.

That fucking bastard.

I wanted it. That night at the masquerade and every single time he touched me. I begged him.

And that fact just makes me hate him more.

I could kill him.

But I remember the cold mask that settled over his features as I accused him of murder tonight, and I know I have to protect myself.

I flip on the nightstand lamp, and a stack of documents that wasn’t there before greets me.

My loan from the bank. The promissory note is stamped Paid in Full with yesterday’s date. The line of credit. The term note. All of it. Almost two million dollars’ worth of debt, all paid in full. I flip through the documents, on the verge of losing my mind as my stomach twists into knots.

Mount did this. I have no doubt about that.

When I reach the bottom of the pile, I find a note in the handwriting I was expecting to find in the box.

---

---

That smug asshole.

I’m going to kill him.

I yank open the nightstand drawer, but the lockbox where I keep the gun is gone.

Mount.

No matter what happens in my life, it seems, the answer lately is Mount.

Someone bangs on my apartment door, and I stalk toward it.

Go down fighting or die trying. That’s how I walked into this, and that’s how I’m going to end it.

I flip the dead bolts and fling open the door, but it’s not Mount outside.

“I’ve missed you, Keira. I hear you haven’t been missing me.”

I blink twice, unable to comprehend the fact that my dead husband is standing in front of me—very much alive—before everything goes black.

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