Breathe, Grace.

She rested her trembling hands on either side of the sink and closed her eyes. Her head was spinning with the first alcoholic buzz she’d had in nearly a year, she was hornier than she could remember being in her life, and that man out there was fishing for a reason to stick around.

He was sexy as hell and it was all she could do to keep from having a real honeymoon with her fake husband. Definitely not a good idea, considering he didn’t want to be stuck married to her forever.

So she’d lied.

She didn’t miss Nico’s father. Not ever. Sure, when she’d first come home with her broken heart she had, but after she learned he’d deliberately left her?

No way in hell.

She’d barely thought of him at all in the weeks since she’d married Matteo. When he did cross her mind, it was with a flash of annoyance or deep-seated anger, certainly not attraction and definitely not love.

No, all her desire was tied up with that man in the restaurant who’d bought her champagne and started asking her serious questions.

Champagne makes girls dance and drop their pants.

She could see him lying in the dark, watching her in the mirror night after night as she left herself uncovered for his pleasure. She could feel his mouth on her private places, her body shuddering with her intense climax, wishing he would fill her with his sweet cock.

But he hadn’t done it, all because he wanted his precious annulment.

You know he’s right about that. This is just a job to Matteo.

A deafening boom echoed through the walls and the bathroom went dark. Confusion mixed with a primal fear. She looked around at the inky blackness, not understanding what had happened.

Before she could even move her feet, she heard his voice in the darkness. “Grace!”

“I’m here!”

They reached each other and his hand found hers. “Come with me,” he yelled over the screams of people in the distance, pulling her out of the bathroom and into a thick wall of dust and smoke. There was some light here that managed to get through the heavy particles. Things crashed around them.

Matteo pulled her through the chaos toward the light. There were people everywhere, all trying to make their way out of the space at once, sharp pieces of the restaurant reaching out to scratch her, one slamming into her side, but Matteo kept pulling her, steady and strong. She could barely breathe by the time they reached open air.

Other people stood still in the street, but he pulled her through the crowd without slowing down. She wanted to ask him where he was going, but her lungs burned and all she could do was cough. Sirens wailed in the distance.

They went around a sharp corner and he stopped abruptly, pushing her backwards. “Get down!” He shoved her beside a rank dumpster and followed her down, pulling out a black handgun.

Where the hell did that come from?

“You stay here,” he said. “Make yourself as small as possible and don’t move.”

She cowered as he stood up and a shot rang out through the street, echoing off the buildings. He returned fire, the noise so loud she covered her ears. Several more shots and he was pulling at her. She uncovered her ears.

“Stand up, now. We have to run.”

Again she did as she was told, following him through the streets on her aching hip and feet that were sore from her high heeled shoes.

Finally, he rounded a building into an alleyway and stopped running. He turned to her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

The light from a streetlamp illuminated a dark stain on his upper sleeve and she gasped. “You’re injured.”

“Just a flesh wound.”

“We have to get you to a hospital.”

“We need to get you back to the hotel. That wasn’t just a random attack, Grace. Someone was gunning for you.”

“And you took the bullet.”

“I told you, I’m fine.” He tucked his gun inside his jacket and put his good arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay now. We lost whoever was following us, and we’re almost back to the hotel. Everything’s going to be okay.”

The started walking. “Was it a bomb?” she asked.

“Yes. There was a flash and a bang and all hell broke loose.”

She swallowed against a knot in her throat. “Another terrorist attack.”

“It looks that way.”

She felt as if her whole soul was trembling and she was suddenly so grateful her son wasn’t here.

“This is the hotel,” he said. “Come on.” They walked up several steps to the top of a loading dock, and he opened the door. “Service entrance.”

“How did you—”

“I studied the map this morning.”

They took the elevator to their floor and he again took out his gun. “Stay here while I see if anyone’s been in the room.”

“How can you tell?”

“I left a piece of hair on top of the door hinge.”

She nodded, incapable of words.

He reached on top of the door hinge and walked back to her. “Looks good. I’m just going to double-check.” He went in the room with his weapon at the ready, returning a minute later. “All clear.”

She walked to the room, noticing the blisters on the backs of her heels as she moved. She hadn’t even been aware of them before now. Her hip ached, and she suspected she had quite a bruise. When Matteo closed the door behind them, she’d never felt more relieved in her life.

She moved to the window and stared outside. So much had changed since the last time she stood in this very spot. Before she’d felt invincible. Now she knew she was vulnerable to attack.

“You’re okay now. We’re okay,” he said.

“Let me see your arm.”

She could see him in the glass, unbuttoning his dress shirt, then working the fabric over his wound. The lines of his abdominal muscles clearly visible in his reflection and her stomach clenched down low. He had a beautiful body, this man who’d just saved her life.

She bit her lip and turned around. A one-by-four-inch stripe of skin was missing from the outside of his left arm. She sucked in air, her mouth making a hissing sound as she moved to him, and she forced herself to examine the wound when she wanted to look away.

“You need medical attention.”

“I need a bandage.”

“It’s more than just skin.” She covered her mouth. He would have this mark on him forever, long after he’d left her life. “You need antibiotics, at the very least.”

“The bandage will be fine. The front desk probably has something.”

“I’ll call down.”

He was right. They had a small selection of first aid items that would take care of their immediate need.

“I’m going to call Trudy, too,” she said. “She can have my father’s doctor send along a prescription.”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“We’ll have it delivered.”

He gestured to his arm. “I’m going to wash this out.”

The bandages arrived and they sat on the bed as she covered his wound as best she could.

“You make a pretty good field nurse,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She covered her eyes with her hand.

“What’s wrong, Grace?”

She shook her head. “People were shooting at us today. If that bullet had been just a couple of inches the other way…”

“Come here.” He held out his arm and she scooted next to him on the bed.

“You could have been hurt.”

“So could you.”

“But you could have been hurt for me.”

He stroked her hair. “That’s what I signed up for. Protecting you.”

She held out a hand to him, needing his touch, and he took it.

“What if something happened to you?”

“Something eventually happens to all of us. I’m good at what I do, and I want to spend my life making a difference for those who need me on their side.”

She rested her head on his good shoulder. “I need you, Matteo.”

This was a dance, each step choreographed to get them closer to each other, and her spine tingled with a heady mix of excitement and fear. “I need you to protect me, and I need you to touch me and make me feel safe.”

His eyes were locked on hers, his stare intense.

“I want to kiss you,” she said, lifting her chin and moving toward his mouth.

“Don’t.”

“Please…”

“I said no, Grace.” The deep tenor of his voice seemed to shake the air in the room. She jerked her head back.

“Why not?”

He seemed to be holding himself rigid and taut. She wasn’t crazy. She knew she wasn’t. The sexual chemistry between them was searing, and he must be refusing her kisses for a different reason altogether.

“Don’t you want me to kiss you?” she asked. She felt like she was falling, hoping his answer would save her like a bungee cord pulling her back to safety.

“Hell yes.” His voice was rough and gravelly. “But if we kiss, I’ll need to touch your sweet, smooth skin. I’ll need to touch your body—to feel it with my hands.”

Her breath came quickly and her heart beat faster.

“And if I touch you,” he said, “I’ll need to make love to your sweet goddamn body. I won’t keep myself from doing that again. It nearly killed me the last time, not to be inside you when you came.”

A hot flush bloomed over her chest and up her neck to her cheeks. She could imagine him making love to her, imagine how good it would feel.

“And if we make love there won’t be any annulment,” he said. “I’ll take a bullet for you any day of the week, but damn it, Grace, you’re in love with another man.”

“But—”

He stood. “I won’t stay married to a woman who’s in love with another man. And you shouldn’t ask me to.” He walked into the bathroom, closing the door between them.