I didn't know what to say after Christian's admission that he thought I was beautiful. Was this the same man who'd handcuffed me to a post, then cooked me dinner, next accused me of lying to him, and then told me I was going to fall in love with him? I shook my head in the hopes it would clear away some of the confusion. Christian was an enigma and I'd have been lying if I didn't admit the whole situation was stirring up long suppressed feelings. But those were the feelings of a teenage girl. And I was no longer a girl.

"You look tired," he said, interrupting my thoughts.

"I am," I admitted, stifling a yawn. "It's been an exhausting day. And my arms are starting to sting again."

I thought I saw regret flicker in his eyes.

"Why don't we both call it a night?" he offered.

Nodding my head in agreement, I asked, "I'm going to get a shower. Which bedroom is mine?"

He motioned toward the master bedroom.

"Where are you sleeping?" My shoulders were beginning to feel as heavy as my eyelids and my arms were sorer than I’d originally thought.

Again he motioned toward the master bedroom.

My eyes widened, and I told him under no circumstances would we be sharing a bed. He told me that we would be and if I didn't like it, he would have no other choice but to handcuff me to one of the bedposts in another room.

I marched toward the master bedroom. He didn't follow me.

I picked up his duffel bag from the bed and slammed it on top of the dresser. After rifling through a few drawers I found a small stash of some of his clothes. I stuffed them in his bag and walked to the door. He was still standing where I'd left him and I could tell he was suppressing a grin. I threw the bag and it landed with a soft thud on the hardwood floor. I slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it. I grabbed my overnight bag and sifted through it for my pajamas and toiletries.

I languished in the hot shower for at least twenty minutes and was surprised at how rejuvenated and calm I'd become. A good night's sleep was what I needed. I was secretly grateful that I'd handled the text to my mother and was equally thankful that Lucas wasn't expecting to hear from me. Where did that come from? I asked myself as I towel-dried my hair and brushed it out. I hadn't put on my pajamas because the bathroom was steamy and I felt sticky. I flung open the bathroom door to let some air in and almost fell backward.

Doing my best to use both hands to cover my nakedness, I awkwardly kicked the door shut in Christian's face, but not before I caught the wide smile.

"How did you get in the bedroom?" I yelled through the door.

"Really, Mimi?” he scoffed. “I picked the lock."

"Get out!" I screamed.

"No," came his blunt reply.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not coming out until you leave.”

"I'm not leaving. I hope you find the bathtub comfortable. Want me to toss in a pillow and blanket?"

I looked over at the huge Jacuzzi tub and cringed. It would be lovely to have a hot soak in it, but not spend the night sleeping against its hard surface. My original exhaustion returned with a ferocity that I hadn't expected. I pulled on my panties and Beauty and the Beast nightshirt.

I calmly walked into the bedroom and found him stretched across the top of the bedspread. He was wearing a pair of navy-blue pajama pants. Lying on his side with his head propped against one hand, he laughed when he saw my nightshirt.

"Daisy would love that," he told me, as he sat up and crossed his legs.

"Your little sister likes Beauty and the Beast?" I asked him, surprised that he would know about the Disney classic.

He gave me a smile that sent a wave of heat down my spine. "I used to play with her when she was much younger," he confessed, not an ounce of embarrassment showing. He was proud of it.

"I'm going to assume you weren't Belle. Let me think..." I paused. "You played the overbearing and egotistical Gaston?"

My insult didn't affect him at all as he sat up straight and shook his head, sending his long hair flying around his face. In his most ferocious voice, he said, "You will join me for dinner. That's not a request!"

It was a line from the movie and he nailed it. I started laughing and sat down on the edge of the bed. We were both smiling and staring at each other. It was then that I noticed the tattoo over his heart. It was two chess pieces. A black king and white queen were connected by a pair of handcuffs. I gently placed my hand on it, and asked, "What's the significance of this tattoo?"

"You don't remember?" he softly whispered.

There was a memory trying to battle its way to the surface of my brain, but the day's drama kept it just out of reach. I slowly shook my head as I stared at my pale fingers against his dark skin.

He took my hand and lifted it to his cheek. "That's okay, Mimi. Sometimes the things we don't remember can be just as important as the things we do remember." A moment passed before he added, "It'll come back to you when the time is right."

Our eyes locked, and after a moment, I started to fidget. Pulling my hand away I stood quickly. "I guess I'll take one of the other rooms," I announced and headed for the door.

"I'll grab the handcuffs and be there in a minute," I heard him say from behind me as he jumped off the bed.

I stopped dead in my tracks and balled my hands into fists at my sides. I swung around and faced him. "You're serious about this," I barked. "You think I'm going to try and leave?"

"I didn't say that. I just want to make sure you don't," he said. He had his hands resting on his hips. After raking my eyes over his abs, I looked back at his face.

"I'm not going to sleep with you, Christian."

"I'm not going to make a move on you, Mimi. I just want you close by." He waved his arm toward the bed.

I was tired and the fight was slowly draining out of me. He followed me as I walked back into the bathroom. We wordlessly brushed our teeth and he dabbed more peroxide on my arms.

He climbed into bed first and patted the spot next to him. I crawled in and turned my back to him. He switched off the bedside light and I didn't resist when he pulled me into his arms. I was too tired to care. He told me he wouldn't make a move on me and in my exhausted state I needed to believe that. I could feel the heat of his chest through the back of my nightshirt and felt his warm breath at my ear. "Good night, Dreamy Mimi," he softly whispered. There was no hint of his earlier mockery and I smiled in the dark.

"Christian?" I whispered back.

"Yeah?"

"Will you tell me tomorrow about your prison tattoos?" My question wasn't accusatory. I wanted to know what he'd done that sent him to prison and hopefully get him to open up about the name on his right bicep.

"What makes you think they're prison tattoos?"

"I don't think they're prison tattoos." I looked back over my shoulder so I could see his eyes. A beam of moonlight cast a sliver of brightness over his face, making his cobalt eyes glow. "I know they're prison tattoos."

"What would you know about prison tattoos?" he asked, our eyes locking in the eerie stillness of the room.

Of course Christian had no way of knowing that I'd spent the last five years getting to know my biological father. The same father who'd lived fifteen years on death row in a maximum-security prison.

I returned my head to the pillow. "You'd be surprised by what I know," I quietly answered before letting sleep carry me away.