Duke’s fingertips trail across my shoulder blade. I curl into him, savoring the warmth, the safety of his arms. Though my breathing has returned to normal, my heart still pulses like a kick drum. “Jesus, what was that?”

I can almost feel his smile, as though my questions, however naïve, amuse him. “The multiple orgasms, or the flogger?”

“Flogger--Is that what it’s called?”

His low, throaty chuckle does something to my insides. “I wouldn’t Google it,” he says. “It’s a bit of my own invention. An adapted whip of sorts.” He kisses the top of my head. “Did you like it?”

I run my hand over his chest, and down to his abdomen. Soft curls of hair thread through my fingertips. “Very much so.”

He blows out a breath. “Good. Just as long as it didn’t mar that perfect ass of yours.”

Maybe a little. My skin still burns from where the flogger swept across my ass, but it’s a dull pain, no more intense than the ache that pulses across my body and within the folds of my swollen pussy. Subtle reminders. As though could ever forget this evening. I turn my face into his chest and plant soft kisses along his flesh.

A low moan vibrates from his throat.

In one swift motion, he rolls me onto my side and tucks his arm around me, holding me tight against him.

I’m deep in the haze of lust, blissfully satisfied and content, but if Duke’s cock so much as twitches with interest, my body will obediently respond.

I shift so my buttocks press firmly up against his groin, aching to be as close to him as possible.

He holds me tighter. “I left work early. I don’t remember the last time I did that,” he says. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re so fucking sexy when you’re mad.”

I bury my face into the pillow and giggle. The words are exactly what I want—what I need—to hear. It’s like Duke is whispering straight through the protective shield around my heart and straight into my soul. And yet for some reason, I can’t give in to the fantasy, not fully. “I still don’t understand or agree with your decision about the MicroTracker, though.”

Duke shifts so he can roll over. I turn too, disappointed at the sudden disconnection. I shouldn’t have brought up business—it’s just, being here with Duke, even in such an intimate way, doesn’t make his decision an easier pill to swallow. If anything, it intensifies the need for an answer, a loose end that needs tying. I want a reason to justify it, some kind of rationale that will help me move on.

“Do you know how I became a billionaire, Hailey?” He tucks his hands under his head and turns toward me. There’s a kindness in his eyes that trips up my heart. I’ve heard this question before, more abruptly, but I get the sense his answer will be very different this time. He licks his lips. “I follow my gut. Maybe that doesn’t make sense…”

“It does,” I cut in. I’m not completely clueless and naive. “I guess I just don’t understand how the device could be dangerous. Not if we manage the flow of…”

Duke releases a heavy sigh and holds out his right arm, turning it over so I can see the tattoo on his wrist. Two military-style dog tags are tangled in thick chains so detailed they almost appear three dimensional. “I don’t talk about the meaning of this ink to many people,” he says.

A flutter of unease tightens across my chest.

I trace the outline of the artwork, drawing circles around the chains. He flinches, but doesn’t pull away.

“I served in Afghanistan,” he says. His voice turns quiet, almost hollow, as though it’s slicked with fresh pain. “Three years on the front lines. I’ve killed a lot of men, Hailey.”

My voice drops to a whisper. “Because you were protecting your country.”

He nods without comment, and I can almost see the gears in his mind clink together, taking him back to those war-ravaged memories. Is the sight of that death what keeps him up at night? Does he wonder about the families left behind? The people’s lives he saved?

“During one mission…” He swallows hard. “I was captured by enemy soldiers and caged up like a fucking animal.” His voice hardens as he says it.

I inhale sharply. “I’ve never read anything about that.” The business magazines tout his business successes, the tabloids boast of his sexual prowess. I’d known he was in the military of course, but the details of his missions have never been public. His confession now makes me understand why. My breath goes shallow. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s an empty apology, and that just makes me feel worse.

He shakes his head, deflecting my sympathy to continue his story. “I was tortured… You can’t imagine, Hailey…”

Pain rips through my chest and jabs into my heart. I blink to reset the images that flit through my imagination. My life, until now, has been sheltered. Easy. Somehow I’ve managed to steer clear of deep trauma, the sharp sting of loss.

I trail my finger along Duke’s cheek. “What did they do to you?’

“The details would shock you,” he says, quiet.

I hate that these memories are causing him pain. I want to know more, but am equally as desperate to make him forget. My eyes travel along his torso, searching for scars, permanent marks of the torture he endured at the hands of the enemy. I imagine him like a caged animal, trapped by the people he vowed to protect our country against. No wonder he’s haunted by the past.

“I’ve worked every day since my return to try and forget what they did.” The raw edge in his voice cuts like a knife. “The suffering. The torture…” His words trail off. “Kingston Industries became my sanctuary. I dedicated my life to the business—crafting a team that delivered innovation that could be symbolic of advancement. Feed my personal need to move forward. It’s that passion, that drive, that made Kingston Industries the success it is today.”

Duke may have tried to bury the past, but it’s painfully obvious memories creep up in other ways. His need for control. Dominance. His reputation as a business tycoon should have terrified three kids fresh out of college, but I thrived on the challenge whereas others might have bolted. Is that what he sees in me, the reason I’m cocooned in his bed? I wonder now if I may be in over my head—personally and professionally—and the possibility shadows me in overwhelming sadness.

“The pain’s still there,” he says. “No matter how much money I make, or what new products I develop.” Our mouths are so close we’re practically kissing. “At the end of a long day, I close my eyes, and the images come to life. They play out in my nightmares and dreams.”

My throat grows raw with grief.

“I was trained to take the beatings,” he says. “No way those fuckers could have made me talk. But they tried. Damn, did they try.” He shifts a little. “Hailey, they use technology no one has even heard of. The kind of stuff that will make the hair on the back of your neck crawl. And that was years ago. Can you imagine what they’ve created since?”

His arms tremble as he shudders.

All of a sudden, the pieces of the puzzle begin dropping into place. It all makes sense. The MicroTracker reminds Duke of that dark past. It represents the kind of innovation that was used to do more harm than good, a weapon that in the wrong hands could get people hurt—or killed.

A tear trickles down my cheek. “God, I’m such an ass.” I lower my chin, ashamed at how hard I’ve pushed for answers. I think of Duke bound and tortured, the pain forever etched in his mind, his brain. How could he ever forget?

He gently kisses my forehead. “You didn’t know. No one does.”

I’m touched that he’s chosen to share this with me, but it doesn’t ease the sympathy that clutches my heart in an iron fist. There are no words no comfort him, no actions I can take to ease the pain.

I bury myself into his chest and sigh. His arms wrap around me and I allow myself to be lulled deeper into a fantasy that further merges Duke’s world with mine, this confession somehow bringing us closer, more connected. I don’t know what the future holds for us, whether I’ll stay at Kingston Industries, or if Duke will pretend this moment never happened, but it doesn’t matter, because I have this, the here and now, and no matter what tomorrow brings, I’ll never forget.

Never.

The shrill echo of my phone ringing yanks me out of the dream. I pull back, startled, and glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It’s almost one in the morning.

“That sounds important,” Duke says.

My skin ripples in goose bumps. I climb out from under the covers and run, naked, to the living room to retrieve my cell.

“Hello?” I say breathless.

Moonlight streams in through the windows, casting the room in an ominous glow. The city lights appear more vibrant and in the distance, a large boat sails toward Navy Pier. I curl into the couch, trying to stay warm against an unexpected chill that skips along my skin.

“Hailey?”

My stomach clenches. “Forrest? What’s wrong?”

“Something bad.” His voice cracks. “Something really bad.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “What do you mean, something bad?”

A shadow falls over the room. I look up and find Duke wrapped in a plush white robe and carrying another. He sits at the edge of the sofa and drapes me in it. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, listening. My heart pounds with the unknown.

“It’s Marissa…”

“Jake’s girlfriend?” Of course that Marissa, but I’m so confused and disoriented, nothing makes sense. “What about her?”

A sound of strangled anguish comes through the phone. “She’s dead,” Forrest stammers. “She’s dead, Hailey, and Jake has been arrested for her murder.”