What the hell just happened? Where did he go, and why did he take the stairs? He never takes the stairs.

Lori comes running after him. “Where is he?”

“He went down the stairs.”

“What? He never takes the stairs.”

“What happened?”

The police officer who came to the desk asking to speak with Kristian joins us and hears my question. “We caught his mother’s killer.”

Lori and I gasp.

“His mother was killed?” Lori asks.

“Thirty-three years ago,” the cop replies.

“Stop.” I don’t care that he’s a cop. “His personal business is not yours to share.”

The cop scowls at me, apparently unused to people questioning his authority. “His personal business is about to be made public. I came here to give him the courtesy of a heads-up.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper, feeling as if I’ve been punched in the gut. “Kristian…”

“Go after him,” Lori says urgently. “Go to him.”

The elevator dings, and Flynn steps into the reception area. Seeing the cop, he says, “What’s going on?”

“Thank you for stopping by,” Lori says to the officer. “We’ll take it from here.”

Giving Flynn a starstruck stare, the officer walks to the elevator. The second the doors close and take him away, Lori tells Flynn what happened.

“We have to find him,” he says to me. “I’ll drive you. Let’s go.”

Grateful for his offer, I grab my phone and purse and follow him to the elevator.

“Let me know what’s going on,” Lori calls after us.

I nod to let her know I heard her and get in the elevator with Flynn.

“I never knew his mother was murdered,” Flynn says. “Did you?”

I nod. “He witnessed it.”

“Oh my God.”

“This will ruin him.”

“We won’t let it.”

I cling to his reassurances as we battle midday traffic on the way to Kristian’s apartment. It takes forty-five minutes to go a few miles, and by the time we pull into his garage, my nerves are totally frayed. He’s not answering calls or texts.

“He isn’t here.”

I scan the lineup of luxury vehicles, trying to figure out which one is missing. I wish I’d paid closer attention. “How do you know?”

“He had the R8 today. It’s not here.” He turns his fancy two-seater around and aims for the garage door, which is still open.

“Where else would he go?”

“I don’t know.” He places a call to Jasper, tells him he’s with me and what’s happened and asks him where to look for Kristian. Because the call is on speaker, I can hear Jasper’s end of the conversation.

“Dear God,” Jasper says.

“Where would he be?”

“Try my place in Malibu. He’s spent time at the guesthouse there. If he wants to hide out, that’d make a good place.”

“We’re on our way.”

“Let me know, will you?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe he never told us this.”

“Kinda like we couldn’t believe you never told us you’re a marquess?”

“Touché,” Jasper says with a sigh.

“We all have secrets, Jasper.”

“I guess so.”

“Find Liza,” Flynn says, referring to the Quantum publicist I met at the premiere. “Tell her what’s going on, and let’s figure out how to protect him from the press.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

Flynn ends the call and points the car toward Malibu. Though Kristian’s car isn’t in the driveway, we do a full search of Jasper and Ellie’s home anyway, but there’s no sign of him. I’ve never seen Flynn so flustered as he stands on Jasper’s deck, hands on his hips, the picture of frustration.

The breeze off the Pacific makes me shiver, even as the sun beats down on us. “Flynn.”

He turns to me.

“Take me to my place.”

Without a word, he leads the way through Jasper’s house to the driveway, where he holds the door for me and then jumps into the driver’s seat.

I can’t believe I didn’t think to go there first, and I pray that’s where he is. The press would never think to look for him at a small bungalow in Venice Beach. But when we pull onto my street, I don’t see his car.

I’m deflated. I was so sure he’d be here.

Flynn parks in front of my house. “Let’s look anyway.”

He follows me inside, where I check every room but see no sign of him. I’m leaving my bedroom when my gaze lands on the closet door, which is cracked open. I touch the door as my heart begins to pound.

I also remember hiding in the closet when she was killed. He never knew I was there.

“Flynn!”

He comes into the bedroom.

“Take me back to Kristian’s place.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

This can’t be happening. Everyone will know. They’ll pity me. I can’t bear it. I hate to be pitied. I hate the way people look at you when they find out something awful happened to you, long before you had any control over anything.

I’ve put the horror of my mother’s murder deep in the past where it belongs, but now… The bandage has been ripped off, everyone will know, and I can’t stop it. I can’t control it, and that infuriates me.

The LAPD will want the world to know about its detectives closing a thirty-three-year-old cold case, not to mention the other cases tied to the guy who killed my mother. It’ll be a huge story. The voracious Hollywood press will go wild when they make the connection to me and Quantum. They’ll wallow in every salacious detail of the murdered prostitute who gave birth to one of Hollywood’s most influential producers.

At a time when my company should be focused on the long-awaited release of Insidious, everyone will be putting out fires with my name on them.

I can’t.

I just can’t.

So I do what I used to do then when it got to be too much.

I hide in the only place I feel safe.

I use the key card Kristian gave me to access his penthouse apartment and run straight to the master bedroom closet, ease the door open and glance inside.

He’s not there. I was so sure he would be. I check the other bedrooms while Flynn looks in the study downstairs.

I felt disloyal to Kristian telling Flynn about the closet, but right now the only thing that matters is finding him and wrapping my arms around him to let him know he’s not alone. He’ll never be alone again.

I meet Flynn in the upstairs hallway.

“Anything?” he asks.

Feeling more desperate by the second, I shake my head. “Wait.” The idea comes to me in a flash, and I bolt toward the game room, trying to remember if there’s a closet in there.

There is.

I rest my hand on the handle of the closed door, knowing with a certainty I can’t explain that he’s in there. I glance back at Flynn. “Let me do this alone, okay?”

He nods. “I’ll be downstairs.”

My mouth is dry, my hands are sweaty, and my heart is set to gallop as I open the door and slip inside, my eyes adjusting to the murky darkness. In the far back corner, I see him. His arms are wrapped around his legs, and his head is down, propped on his knees. He doesn’t see me until I put my arms around him.

He startles like a wounded animal that’s been cornered.

“Shhh. It’s me. I’m here, and I’ve got you.” I hold him tighter than I ever have before, calling on strength I didn’t know I had until the man I love needed it.

He tries to get free of me. “I don’t want you here.”

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Aileen…”

“You can push me away, but I won’t go, and neither will the other people who love you. We’ll be right here for you the way you would be for us.”

“I don’t want any of you here.”

“Too bad. You’re stuck with us.”

It doesn’t happen right away, but after a long while, his body starts to lose some of the tension that grips his every muscle. He doesn’t exactly relax, but he stops trying to push me away. With one hand, I run my fingers through his hair and make circles on his back with the other. I want to know what he’s thinking and feeling, but I don’t dare ask.

I have no idea how long we’re there. Time ceases to exist. When I left the office, I had hours until I needed to pick up the kids from camp. I figure two hours or so have passed since then, so I don’t need to worry yet about getting them. I can continue to give Kristian my full attention.

He’s leaning against me now, allowing me to comfort him.

I consider that a victory. I kiss his forehead and then tip up his chin to kiss his lips.

At first, he responds with the usual ardor, but then he turns away. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

He shakes his head. “It’s going to be everywhere. Every disgusting detail.”

“I won’t read a word of it. Anything I hear about it, I’ll hear from you—and only you.”

He sighs deeply. “Everyone else will devour it.”

“The people who love you, the ones who matter, won’t if you don’t want them to.”

“There’ll be a trial. I’ll have to testify. How will you avoid it then?”

“I love you. I love you no matter what.”

He snorts with disbelief. “You say that now…”

“I say that forever.”

Shaking his head, he rubs his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “You don’t even know what happened or the things I did or anything.”

“I know everything I need to know to be certain I will love you for the rest of my life, no matter what you did.”

“I killed someone.”

I ache for him. “I assume you had to.”

For the first time since I came into the closet, he looks directly at me, his shocked gaze crashing into mine.

“The Kristian Bowen I love wouldn’t kill someone unless his own life was at stake. If it was him or you, I’m glad you chose yourself.”

“You can’t be serious. I tell you I’m a murderer, and you act like it’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal, Kristian. I’d never say otherwise, but the fact that you’re haunted by it means you’re not a soulless killer. You were a boy alone in the world. When I asked what you did after your mother was killed, you said you survived. You survived that. You’ll survive this, too.”

“I was molested, assaulted, attacked, arrested, kicked out of every foster home they put me in. I fucked women for money from the time I was fourteen.”

I’m dying inside, but I can’t let him know that. “Okay.”

“It’s not okay! I don’t want that ugliness to touch you.”

“Too late. It already has, and I’m just fine. It doesn’t change anything.”

“If I asked you to leave me alone, would you?”

“No.”

“What if I want you to?”

“What if my test results come back with a recurrence? Would you leave me alone if that happens?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not.”

He looks at me fearfully. “Did you hear from the doctor?”

“Not yet.” I caress his cheek, wanting to give him all the love and tenderness he’s lived so long without. “Tell me about the person you killed.”

“No.” He tries to pull away, but I don’t let him.

“Tell me. I want to know.”

“Aileen…”

“Kristian.” It’s the same tone I use on my children when I want them to know I mean business.

After a deep sigh, he says, “It was over a loaf of bread I found in a dumpster.” He speaks in a dull, flat tone I’ve never heard before. “He pulled a knife on me. I grabbed his arm and plunged the knife into his chest. I took off with the bread and never looked back. I heard later he’d been found dead from a stab wound. I’ve never told anyone else that I was the one who stabbed him.”

“He would’ve killed you.”

“Probably.”

“What else were you supposed to do?”

“I could’ve let him have the bread.”

“When was the last time you’d eaten?”

“I don’t know. A couple of days.”

“So it’s probably safe to say you weren’t thinking rationally after going days without food.”

“I don’t recall thinking at all. I just reacted.”

“Because you were starving. You did what you had to do to survive.”

After a long silence, he says, “Years later, I tracked down his mother.”

“What did you do for her?”

He looks up at me, stunned. “How do you know I did anything for her?”

“Because I know you. What did you do?”

Averting his gaze, he says, “I bought her a house, and I’ve supported her for twelve years.”

“Did you buy her a house before you bought one for yourself?”

“Maybe.”

“Does she know who supports her or why?”

He shakes his head.

I take him by the face and force him to look at me. “You’re a good man, Kristian. An honorable, wonderful, thoughtful, beautiful man, and I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone other than my children. There is nothing anyone can say about you or your past, no sordid detail or salacious story, that will change the way I love you. I will always love you.”

His gorgeous blue eyes fill with tears. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

“Yes.” I kiss away his tears. “You do. You absolutely do.” I wrap him up in my arms, surrounding him with my love, hoping it will be enough to get him through this. “Come with me, and let’s face this head on so we can get past it and move on with the rest of our lives. Hold on to me. I’ll never let you go.”

A full minute passes before he nods.

I stand and offer him my hand along with everything else I have to give.

He takes my hand and stands.

That’s when I notice the closet shelves are full of toys. Vintage GI Joe action figures, Legos, Tinkertoys, Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robots, board games, race cars… “What is all this?”

“I never had toys as a kid, so I kind of collect them.”

Now I’m in tears.

“Please don’t pity me.”

“I don’t. I swear I don’t.” I fight a losing battle with my tears.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me close to him.

“You will never again want for anything,” I tell him, fierce in my conviction. “I’ll give you everything.”

“You already have,” he whispers.