Are you happy?

Such innocuous words, and I felt like I’d been stripped bare by them.

Was I happy?

I had to be honest. Happiness wasn’t anything I’d ever really given any thought to and definitely not in recent years.

I’d been happy in college, away from my family and free to do what I wanted without worrying what my father or brothers would think, whether it would cause problems among us.

I’d dated a pretty, sweet coed from the Midwest for a while, and after Declan had come for a visit, I broke up with her. He met her, commented about how sweet she was, then said that she reminded him of his ex-wife.

That had been the end of it, because I knew too well how things ended with Declan and his ex, Saoirse. They’d been happy together back in high school, but after she got pregnant and they ended up getting married, things started to change.

Saoirse was sweet. Stubborn. Proud. She was now single-handedly raising the two kids born to her and Declan during their tumultuous marriage. Declan rarely saw his kids, and he’d once commented that it was better that way. He provided for them financially, and that was the best thing he could do for them, that they were all better off if he wasn’t in their lives.

I didn’t want to have a relationship where things would be better off if we were apart.

What was the point?

But I could easily see how things with my college girlfriend, Mindy, could have ended the same way. It hurt to end things. For months, the sad look she’d given me when I told her it was over had haunted me.

But it was the best thing I could have done.

That had been the tipping point, I realized. The day when I realized that, as much as I wanted a life away from my family, I might not be able to have one.

Now, here I was in a similar situation, and I felt myself more torn that I could even begin to describe.

Behind me, the shower came on in the small bathroom, and I forced myself not to think about how Daria must be slipping out of the borrowed shirt. I tried not to think about how she might be climbing into the shower, tipping her head back so the water could dampen her golden hair, how the droplets must be running in rivulets down that long, elegant body.

I wanted to go in there, study her form, search again for any sign of injury. Then I wanted to kiss her all over, kiss every spot my eyes had touched.

But those words haunted me.

Are you happy?

The way she’d stared at me as she softly voiced the doubts I should have expected her to have.

She was a good woman. Kind. Gentle.

She volunteered at a kid’s center and taught dance to the underprivileged.

Why hadn’t I thought about how the shit that was my life might affect her?

I had no explanation, except for the simple truth that I hadn’t wanted to think about it.

I could hear the water splashing in the bathroom, and I moved farther away until I ran out of room. Those few feet I’d managed to put between me and the bathroom door didn’t help lessen the sounds of the water raining down. That was all I needed to think about, Daria naked and warm, her flesh rosy from the heat of the water.

I was into self-torment, I decided sometime later as I found myself closing my eyes and thinking about all the things taking place in the shower, the way she’d felt curled up in my lap.

Want pulsed inside, an all-consuming ache.

At the sound of the door opening, I remained where I was, standing rigidly while staring doggedly out into the busy Miami street ten floors below.

“I’m done,” she said quietly.

I nodded. In the window, I could make out her wavering reflection and saw that she’d pulled my white dress shirt back on.

At least she was covered, but just thinking about my shirt pressing against her soft skin filled me with possessiveness.

She was mine.

She told me she loved me.

The rest of it was just noise.

I wasn’t about to lose her now that I’d just found her.

I’d come to accept something in the minutes I’d been standing there, trying not to give in to the urge to join her in the shower.

Daria wasn’t the only one who’d found herself in over her head on this.

I was falling in love with her.

It was a new thing for me, loving somebody other than my family.

I wouldn’t be able to carry on as normal, because things weren’t normal now. Everything had changed between us. Everything.

I turned and faced her, but she had already moved to the bed, smoothing the blanket back into place, then turning the sheet down.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?” I asked her softly.

She lifted a shoulder in a tired shrug. Giving me a wan look, she said, “You were right about one thing. I need to rest. I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life.”

She slid into the bed, lying on her side facing me.

I lay down too and curled around her, staying on top of the covers, not quite trusting myself to be so close without something separating us. “I need to shower,” I said softly. “I also need to figure out what we’re going to do from here on out.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but a huge yawn cracked her mouth wide open.

She gave me a sheepish smile.

I reached up and traced the full curve of her lip. “You get some sleep, okay?”

“You’re not going anywhere?” She watched me, eyes intent.

“No. I’m not going anywhere.” To prove it, I rested an arm around her, tucking her next to me, the down comforter between us like a soft cloud.

I’d hold her until she fell asleep.

I had control enough for that, as long as she wasn’t touching me, as long as I didn’t have my hands on her bare skin.

I put in a call to Duardo.

He picked up the phone almost immediately, and when he spoke, there was next to no emotion in his voice.

“Hello, Brooks. Why am I not surprised to hear from you?”

“Probably because you knew I wouldn’t let Daria go through with this shit. I paid that debt, Duardo.”

He breathed out softly, and seconds passed before he finally spoke. “As I said, I’m not surprised to hear from you. I’ll leave word at the club. She’s staying across the street. She’s not working tonight, but from what my people have told me, she doesn’t go out except to buy groceries. Once you get there, I’ll—”

“I already have Daria,” I told him, cutting him off.

Surprise seemed to travel through the silence for several seconds. “I wasn’t aware you had been to the club,” Duardo said softly.

“I went by there earlier. I’m surprised Marcos didn’t tell you.” Curiosity pricked at me, and I added, “But maybe he was distracted, with the party and everything else going on.”

Duardo chuckled, but it sounded forced. “Marcos loves his parties.”

“I guess he enjoys getting women from the clubs to work the party too.” I cleared my throat, forcing calm into my voice. “I’m curious…are they told they’ll be expected to fuck whoever shows interest, or do you all just set them up like you did with Daria?”

The surprise gave way to tension. “Just what is it you want to tell me, Brooks?” The edge in Duardo’s voice was now sharp enough to cut. “Get it out. No reason to dance around the bush.”

“Daria was at the party.” I stared out the window. “Was that your doing, or Marcos?”

Duardo seemed surprised. “Marcos told you that he’d taken Daria to one of his parties?”

“No.” I closed my hand into a tight fist. “He invited me to the party, and I found Daria there.” I let him process that, then continued, “If anything had happened to her, if one person had touched her after I made it clear she was under my protection…” I left him to finish the rest.

“I’ll deal with Marcos,” Duardo said, voice going cold. “Is it safe to assume that Daria is…well?”

I turned and looked through the connecting doorway into the other room where she lay sprawled on her belly, one arm flung out, the other curled into a fist tucked close to her head.

“She wasn’t physically hurt,” I said softly. “That is the only reason I’m not going to kill Marcos.”

I ended the call and put the phone back into my pocket.

Then I settled in the chair in the small living area of the suite and stretched out my legs, closing my eyes.

Snatches of barely formed dreams passed through my mind, images of Daria in that costume, her hand gripping a pole as she danced. Marcos stood by watching, promising, “If you see anything you like, it’s on the house.”

I tried to reach her, but she spun away and was gone like smoke.

A noise penetrated the fragmented dream.

I opened my eyes, confused and uncertain about where I was.

I sat up and looked around just as the noise started up again. It was soft, almost pained.

Daria. Moaning softly in her sleep.

I pushed out of the seat and padded quietly to her side. She twisted fitfully on the bed, and as I sat down on the edge, the hand that had been curled into a fist opened. I put my hand in hers.

Immediately, she closed her fingers around mine and rolled toward me as if she’d been seeking me in her dream.

Reaching up, I stroked her cheek with my free hand.

A soft rush of breath fell from her lips.

“Wake up, Daria,” I said.

She twisted, almost feverishly, on the mattress.

Bending down lower, I pressed my lips to her ear. “Wake up. You’re dreaming.”