I finished my phone calls as Camille continued her search for an escape from my penthouse. Once she’d exhausted all avenues—except the video surveillance room I’d locked—she reappeared in my bedroom and flopped down on the bed.

“No luck?” I locked my tablet and stood.

“None, you sadistic prick.” Her mouth had grown steadily worse the longer she stayed with me. It was precious as all hell.

I smiled down at her. “I’m beginning to sense a little anger. But only a little.”

“What’s in the locked room? Severed head collection?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I grinned. “That’s where I stack the dead hookers.”

“That’s only funny if a non-psycho says it.” She rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in the white duvet. If she called me more names—and I was certain she did—they were too muffled to understand.

“Come on. It’s almost time to go out.”

She rolled onto her side as I knelt at her feet.

“What are you doing?” Propping up on an elbow, she watched my fingers slide up her ankle.

“Freeing you for the evening, but don’t get used to it.” I unlatched the golden chain and slid it into my pocket.

She ran her hand over the spot where the anklet had been, the relief in her sigh almost palpable. “Thank you.”

“Like I said, it’s going back on later tonight.” I kept my voice stern, though I loved every emotion that telegraphed through her expressive eyes.

Love. I’d never used that word, the very idea of it foreign to me. I sat back on the wool rug. But I’d just thought the word. Thought how much I loved her emotions. And I didn’t only think it; I felt it.

“Are you okay?” She peeked down at me.

The heartburn in the center of my chest threatened to char me to a cinder. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” She scooted to the edge of the bed, then down to the floor with me. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” I hastened to my feet and offered her my hand.

She took it and stood, worry creasing the pale skin along the top of her nose.

“Timothy is bringing your dress, and we need to get ready to go.” I tapped my watch. “Reservations.”

As if he’d heard his name, Timothy knocked on the open doorframe and walked in, a deep crimson gown draped across his arms and a pair of black stilettos hanging from one hand. “Sorry for the delay.”

“It’s fine.”

She walked over to the gown and took it from him. “Wow, this is fancy.”

“If you’d prefer something else, I’ll understand.” Despite my words, I silently willed her to like what I’d chosen for her.

She held it up and looked it over with a critical eye. “I think I like it.”

The fiery grip on my heart relaxed the slightest bit. “I’m glad.”

She smiled, actual joy on her face, and my ass almost hit the wool rug again. It was the emotion I’d wanted to see, the one I’d been chasing for the past few months. Here it was, bright as day and more exquisite than the sun. And it only happened when the anklet was in my pocket, when she was free.

She snagged the shoes from Timothy, hurried past me, and closed the bathroom door. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be right out.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. What was happening inside me?

“It’s working.” Timothy’s low voice cut through my cacophony of confusion.

“Is it?” I stared at him. “You think she’s accepted it?”

He chuckled. “No, but I think you’re starting to.”

I changed into a tux and listened intently to every move Camille made in the bathroom. After a while, she fell silent and opened the door.

If I’d been overwhelmed before, one look at her in that stunning dress crushed me under the spike of her heel. The crimson fabric draped between her breasts and hugged the curve of her hips. The skirt fell mid-thigh, and when I thought of the view I’d get if she bent over, my mouth went dry. Holy fuck.

“You look…” She took a deep breath and walked to me, placing one hand over my scorching heart. “So handsome.”

Her blonde hair cascaded over one shoulder, and she’d made use of the few cosmetics Timothy had stowed in the bathroom. Her lashes were dark and long, her lips a few shades lighter than the deep hue of her dress. A vision, she took my breath away. Words failed.

The smile, the real one, spread across her pouty lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever rendered a man speechless before, especially not a psychopath.”

I gripped her hips, and she didn’t move away. The slinky material was smooth beneath my fingertips. Either she wore a thong or no panties at all. How was I going to make it through dinner with this vixen? I already wanted to make her scream. By the time we were done with dinner, I’d be begging her for just a lick along her sweet pussy.

“Fucking hell I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you.” My words came out in an uncharacteristic rush.

Her blue eyes sparkled. “Thank you.”

“Anton has the car waiting, sir.” Timothy’s voice came from beyond the bedroom door. He knew better than to walk in at this point.

“I hope you’re taking me somewhere fancy.” She batted her lashes. “Somewhere with lots and lots of people.”

I pressed my index finger under her chin and pulled her mouth up to mine. I hovered only a whisper away, dying to taste her. “Only the best for you.”

“Good. I’m starving.” Temptress.

My brain scrambled again. She stepped toward the door, the heels giving the impression that her smooth legs went on for miles.

I followed. There was no other option with Camille. Wherever she went, I would go too. We were forever.