Pissaladière.

That’s what the Mershano Suites employee called the pizza he brought up to the room thirty minutes ago. It looked savory enough, but my stomach was too cramped to eat. Will had yet to return, and the meal only served one.

“Mister Mershano says you try this wine,” the older man had said with a thick French accent. The glass of red stood untouched with the recorked bottle behind it. My fingers kept inching toward it, but I wanted my mental faculties fully charged for his return.

I paced the suite again, walking through both bedrooms and out onto the balconies overlooking Nice. The balmy air did little to warm my exposed arms. My blue dress was one of our purchases from the weekend. Will called it beautiful this morning before wrapping his arms around my back and kissing me so hard that I forgot how to move. Thinking about it gave me butterflies, which did not mix well with the nerves rattling around inside of me.

“Damn it.” My whisper disappeared into the night, floating somewhere in the streets of Nice below. I wanted to admire the gorgeous view but couldn’t. Not because of the lack of sunlight, but because my eyes refused to focus.

I hurt Will.

Me.

And my angry words.

Despite his meddling, he meant well, and I knew that. But in the moment, I’d reacted irrationally to a deep-seated pain brought on by years of living under a man’s control. Will wasn’t Ryan. I knew that on a logical level, but my wounds never fully healed.

Rattling came from the living area behind the sheer curtain, and I turned as Will entered with two suit-clad men. He met my gaze briefly as I walked in, but didn’t hold it or smile like he usually did.

“Rachel, this is Beau and Sam. They’ll be accompanying us to the meetings this week.” His professional tone sent a chill down my spine. I’d heard it plenty of times before, but he hadn’t directed it my way in what felt like forever, which was actually closer to a week.

Had we only kissed six days ago? Our relationship seemed so much older than that. Because I fell for him the first day we met. Now, if only I could admit that out loud.

“Rachel?” Will’s saying my name had me returning from my thoughts. His furrowed brow suggested I’d missed something he said.

“Sorry, right. Hi.” I extended my hand to Sam first, then Beau. They were night and day in appearance. Sam had a sly, light-on-his-feet look to him, while his counterpart exuded a quiet authority. Both flashed me a grin, and Sam’s included dimples. Not sexy ones like Will’s, but they were cute and added to the man’s overall lanky charm.

“Rachel, I thought you might want to hear more about their backgrounds and roles in our plans this week,” Will murmured. “So I’ll leave you all to chat. Gentlemen, great meeting you. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me.” He gave the two bodyguards a nod and left us standing in the living area.

Uh . . . I tried to smile at the men but failed. “Sorry, I’m not feeling like myself tonight.”

“No worries, ma’am,” Beau replied, his voice deep. “Hernandez gave us an overview of the situation before we arrived, so we’re up to speed. We’re both former Special Forces and trained to blend in with our surroundings. So if we’re doing our jobs right, you won’t even notice us.”

“Unless you need to,” Sam added with another easy grin. I sensed he was the down-to-earth one of the pair. “We’re here as a precaution only, Miss Dawson. And we’ll do our best to stay out of your way.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Do you have any questions for us?” Beau asked, his vivid blue eyes intense.

“Umm . . .” My brain refused to function. All I could think about was Will’s professional demeanor and easy dismissal. He’d left without looking at me again, and it left a sour taste in my mouth. As for asking these men questions, I had none. Will likely questioned them thoroughly over the last ninety minutes. “I don’t have any right now.”

“Very good, ma’am. Mister Mershano knows where to find us, so feel free to reach out if you need anything.” Beau held out his hand again, and I shook it, followed by Sam’s.

Both men let themselves out after advising me to lock up. I did as they asked before hunting down their boss. I found him leaning on the balcony outside the master bedroom with another glass of amber liquid in his hand. He didn’t say anything as I joined him, and kept his forearms on the railing with his gaze on the city. I couldn’t tell if his silent treatment was a result of being deep in thought or not knowing what to say. So I broke the ice with the obvious question.

“Since when do you drink scotch?” I asked. And where the hell had he found it? He never stopped in the kitchen. Was there a minibar in the bedroom?

“It’s cognac, which is produced by doubly distilling white wines in certain regions of France.” He finished the glass and set it aside without looking at me. “Are you okay with hiring Beau and Sam?”

I studied his profile. “They’re your employees. I’m not going to give an opinion one way or another.”

“They’re here to protect you, Rachel.” He finally met my gaze, and what I saw there stole the air from my lungs. Uncertainty mingled with hurt behind a mask of forced professionalism. “I don’t want to make assumptions on your behalf, so I’m going to need your input. Are you comfortable with me hiring them, or should I ask Hernandez to send new candidates?”

His use of the word assumptions was deliberate, but not in an accusatory or provocative way. My reaction to his decision to sign the conflict of interest form had made him so uncertain that he needed my input now on something we both knew already had my approval.

“We both know I’m okay with it, Will.”

He studied me for a minute, then nodded and turned his focus back to the view. “They come highly recommended, and interviewed well. I’ll let Hernandez know.” This professional facade needed to end. I laid my hand on his arm, and he tensed. His reaction kicked me right in the gut.

“Will.” I had to pause to swallow the knot in my throat. “Look, I’m not happy about what you did, but I understand why you did it. And it saves me from having an awkward conversation after this business trip.”

The tension in his arm didn’t lessen, nor did he redirect his attention. It left me feeling alone and a little shunned. Maybe he was mad.

“Do you remember the first day we met? In your office at Baker Brown?” He ran his fingers through his hair and huffed a laugh. “Because I do. Vividly. I walked in with certain expectations, one of them being an over-and-done-with conversation where you reviewed the contract and gave Sarah the approval she needed to continue with the show, but one look at you turned my entire world upside down. I think it was your fiery blue eyes that hooked me and your mouth that reeled me in for the fight.” He shook his head and let it fall to stare at his hands.

“My dad loved my mom more than everything in this world,” he continued, voice soft. “And after they died, I went to live with my aunt and uncle, who have a relationship on the opposite side of the spectrum. The change was a bit of a shock, but it did teach me a valuable lesson. It taught me what I want out of life: a partner, someone to love the way my father loved my mother, someone to build a future with . . . It’s taken me a long time to find the right woman, but my dad always said I would know, that she would knock me off my feet with a glance. And that day in your office, his words proved true.”

His gaze burned as it met mine. “We’ve never been just friends, not in my mind anyway, and being up-front with Baker Brown was the only way I knew how to protect your career. I mean, the first day we met, I stayed the night at your apartment. Nothing happened, but they don’t know that. And I’ve been courting you ever since. To feign only a professional interest would be a lie, and I consider myself an honest man. I’ve wanted you for months, and I know you wanted me, too, but it’s on you to admit it to yourself. There’s only so much I can do here, Rachel. Our relationship will never work if I’m the only one willing to fight for it.”

Each word slammed into me with a force that left me winded. My fingers curled into his forearm for support, or maybe I just needed to cling to him, because his stature and tone said this was a pivotal moment for our relationship. He’d done everything up until this point to win me over, while I’d done everything in my power to push him away. And today, when I denied his claim regarding a mutual attraction, had finally tipped him over. I could see it in his eyes, the defeat and the exhaustion and the lurking doubt that this may never work. It was a result of my constant refusal to admit out loud what I knew in my heart.

Whatever I said next would define us. If I denied it yet again, I risked him walking away. A week ago, I would have done exactly that to protect him and myself, but things had changed between us.

Tonight, I would need to tell him everything or risk losing him forever.