Piper woke slowly, in that hazy way one does on a winter weekend when one has snuggled deep into the blankets. Bright, clear sunlight bathed the room and bed in stark pale colors, washing everything out and making it feel surreal.

She blinked and studied the bed hangings and the dying fire in the fireplace. Where was she? Bit by bit, memories of last night came back to her. She winced as she realized it hadn’t been a wild and fantastical dream. She was really in Mikhail Barinov’s house in Cornwall and had been forced into helping him steal the Cheapside treasure trove.

It took her a few seconds longer to realize she was in a warm bed, but not the bed she’d gone to sleep in. She whipped her head up as soon as she recognized where she was: Mikhail’s bedroom.

How had she gotten here? Surely he hadn’t… She lifted the sheets and breathed a sigh of relief. She was still clothed. Nothing had happened last night, as far she could tell. But why had he brought her back here after she’d been given the freedom to choose where she slept?

Frowning, she slipped out of bed. A pair of jeans and a sweater lay beside her on a chair, along with boots and thick woolen socks. There was a small note propped up beside them.

Piper,

Belishaw brought your clothes down from London this morning. Your suitcase is in the other bedroom. Feel free to freshen up and shower. Come down to the kitchen when you are hungry.

—M.

Belishaw? How had he gotten into her hotel room? Scratch that—given what they’d pulled off last night, breaking into a hotel room couldn’t have been difficult.

She set the note down and glanced at the bathroom. She really could use a shower. She had to start her day feeling clean or else she got cranky, and that was the last thing she needed if she was going to escape.

The bathroom was stunning, with smooth marble surfaces and expensive faucets. She’d been too busy focusing on the scalding wax last night to appreciate it. The shower was a massive glass box against one wall. There was a heated floor tile switch, which she experimented with when she got in and turned on the water. So much of the house she’d seen so far hadn’t been modern, yet this bathroom certainly was. It seemed Mikhail had kept the renovations to just the rooms he lived in most.

The rest of the house might have been cold, but not this room. The water warmed her chilled skin, and the heated tiles made her feel as cozy as a kid by a roaring fire in a pile of blankets. She got out, dried her hair, and got dressed. Then she returned to her bedroom to check her luggage. But there was only so long she could put off the inevitable and face Mikhail.

She followed the heady scents of eggs and bacon down the stairs into the kitchen. Mikhail stood in front of the stove, wearing jeans and a button-up white shirt, holding a cast-iron skillet over a blue flame.

“Good morning.” He offered her one of those sexy smiles that hit her right behind her knees.

How could he always make her want to forget that she was supposed to be resisting him, trying to get away? It was so hard to ignore the “Fuck me, baby” vibes that rolled off him in waves. It gave her way too many wild ideas, like curling her arms around his body from behind and breathing in that woodsy pine scent of his.

Get a grip. Piper gave herself a little shake and placed the stovetop island between herself and the sexy Russian jewel thief.

“How do you like your eggs?” he asked as he scooped a helping of scrambled eggs onto a plate.

She couldn’t help but lick her lips. “Er, scrambled is fine.”

He added shredded cheese to the eggs, just like her mom did. “And bacon, I assume?” He raised a gloved hand with a second skillet where several fat, thick strips sizzled.

“Yes, please.” She held back a moan as he plucked the strips from the pan with a fork and set them on the plate next to the eggs.

Mikhail turned to the fridge. “Coffee, tea, or juice?”

“Orange juice, if you have it,” she replied. She picked up a spare fork on the counter and sat down at the nook table with the plate.

A tall glass of orange juice was soon sitting in front of her. When she finished eating, she looked up to see Mikhail leaning against the counter, watching her with open amusement. She chose to ignore him. She didn’t want to know what was making him smile. It was likely at her expense. Having breakfast with a jewel thief was something she’d never thought she’d experience in her life, yet he acted so casually and put her at such ease that she could almost forget how she’d ended up here.

“So…” she said. “Is Randolph Belishaw somehow involved with your connection to the jewels or just your getaway driver?”

Mikhail shrugged. “A bit of both.”

Piper raised a brow. That answer left the door wide open for a dozen more questions.

“Last night you said the jewels were yours, that the Belishaw family gave them to your family as part of a treaty long ago. Was that true?” Maybe she could catch him in a lie now.

“All true.” He walked over to a small side table near the fridge and retrieved a packet of letters bound with twine. He carefully slid a letter out of the middle of the stack and set it down in front of her. He kept the other letters carefully out of reach.

“I pulled these from my private safe earlier this morning. I thought you’d want to read them.”

The yellowed parchment was crinkled when she unfolded it to read. The ink had changed from black to brown with age, but she could see the date, 1559, inscribed at the top of the letter. She squinted at the letter but was eventually able to stumble through the words. It was from the Belishaw family to the Barinov family, detailing a treaty between the two noble houses with a payment of an immense hoard of jewels to the Barinovs. In exchange, the two families would be tied by an oath to come to the defense of the other in times of war.

There was an itemized list of jewels which included: boxes of rubies, an emerald watch, diamonds, emeralds, amethysts, a cloth sack of pearls, and many other special items, including a fist-sized ruby in the shape of a person’s heart. That one she remembered clearly, the Dragon Heart Stone. The piece was so valuable that they had not even put it on display at the V&A museum or at the reception last night. It had stayed safely locked in a vault at the Thorne Auction House. Piper read the rest of the letter. It was clear the jewels had belonged to Mikhail’s ancestors, assuming the letter was real.

She set the letter down. “How did the jewels end up in Cheapside if they belonged to your family?” She was ready to unravel his story if she found a single thread to pull on. A lot could happen to a family in five hundred years, and it was entirely possible that the jewels could’ve been lost, sold, or stolen. They could rightfully belong to someone else now. The options were endless.

Mikhail collected the letter and carefully tucked it back into the stack before he finally answered her.

“My family was betrayed. Elizabeth I took advantage of—my ancestor—and drugged his wine and tricked him into revealing where he’d stored the jewels. My ancestor was forced into prison but he never forgot what she did with the jewels.”

“But why?” Piper asked. “It wasn’t out of some kind of greed, was it?”

Mikhail considered his words. “No. She believed herself to be in the right. She believed the jewels were a part of her father’s royal treasury, and they had been, once. But her father had given them to the Belishaw family in the early years of his reign for their services. And the Belishaws, in turn, had given them to us. Henry, however, grew to resent the deal in his later life and no doubt told all who would listen that he believed them to be rightfully his. He was a bitter man, petty and vengeful. And there were other voices that poisoned the queen against my ancestor…” Mikhail’s face darkened, a host of storms surging in his green eyes, and once again he spoke as if he had been there.

“So Elizabeth imprisoned him? Your ancestor, I mean?” Piper asked.

He nodded, his eyes solemn. “Yes. For forty-four years. And the real tragedy was that he loved her. And she might have loved him, had things been different. Instead, she repaid his love with shame and imprisonment. To make matters worse, his own father exiled him from the family afterward. He was not allowed to go home until he recovered the jewels.”

A tic worked in Mikhail’s jaw as he spoke, his words soft and heavy with sorrow. Piper was lost in the lingering pain behind his eyes that seemed centuries old, as though he knew how his ancestor must have felt.

“That’s awful.” She had no other words to express her thoughts of such suffering.

“Five centuries is a long time for injustice. But now my family will have peace.” The last of his words was barely more than a whisper.

“How long have you been trying to find the jewels?” she asked.

“A long time,” he said with a rueful laugh. “Feels like centuries sometimes.” He rapped his knuckles on the wooden table in an affectionate gesture, then smiled brightly. “Well then, little dove, am I still a fierce villain?” He reached over and brushed a lock of her hair away from her face. His fingertips left a delicious tingle that traveled down her body.

“Maybe you aren’t so bad,” she finally replied, a blush flaming her face.

His responding laugh was dark and sinful. “Oh, I am bad. Very bad. But you haven’t had a taste of that yet.” He stroked a fingertip down her nose in a playful gesture and then collected her plate and put it in the dishwasher.

She got up to follow him. “But you just said you were trying to prove you aren’t bad.”

He turned to face her, a smug smile on his face. “I’m not someone you should fear,” he said. “But I am a very bad man, in a very specific way.” He slid closer, his hands settling on the counter on either side of her hips, trapping her. Piper’s heart jumped in her chest, and she tried to catch her breath.

“What—way?” She knew where this conversation was going to lead, and her body was begging for it.

“In the last half hour, I’ve imagined no less than a dozen ways to strip you of your clothes. I want to take you in a dozen different positions until you can no longer move.” He growled as he leaned in, nuzzling her cheek.

His breath was hot against her, stirring the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. A sharp shiver ran through her, and her womb clenched in anticipation. God, he knew just what to do to make her crazy with desire. This time there was less fear. He wasn’t as scary as she’d thought last night, and knowing that made her body’s response to him feel less like she had betrayed herself.

One of his hands cupped the back of her head, and the other gripped her hip possessively as he sank his teeth into her neck in a playful bite. Her clit throbbed in response, the nipping sensation turning her legs to jelly. She fell against him, grabbing his arms as she tried to stay upright. His rumbling laugh moved through her.

“Beg me. Beg me for it,” he murmured against her ear. “Ask me to take you upstairs and possess you…every part of you. I could pleasure you for hours if you wish. All you have to do…is beg.” He licked up the side of her throat and bit her earlobe. A rush of heat exploded between her thighs, and she clamped them together, but it didn’t stop the almost violent need that slithered just beneath her skin.

“Beg,” he rasped again. His hand on her hip slid to her lower back and then beneath the waistband of her jeans and under her panties. He cupped her bottom, squeezing it hard. That was all it took to drive her out of her mind. She opened her lips, ready to beg, but the jarring sound of a cell phone vibrating nearby was a splash of cold water over them both.

After a breathless moment that left her inwardly cursing, Mikhail let her go and picked up his phone from the counter.

“Belishaw, what—” Mikhail went silent and turned away from her, raking his hand through his hair.

Piper blew out a slow breath as her body descended from the heights she’d been climbing as he’d teased her in every way possible.

“But she isn’t a part of this. I thought we—” He cursed softly in Russian and faced her, keeping the phone to his ear. “Fine, keep me informed.” He hung up, his green eyes as dark as a primordial forest where the foliage was too thick for the light too penetrate.

Her heart lodged in her throat. Something had happened. “What is it?”

“It seems there was one hidden camera we missed last night. Before I left the reception at the auction house, I accessed the camera feeds of the rooms I planned to enter. They were all looped to show empty rooms. But I missed one.” He paused, and Piper waited for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m afraid you were seen helping me load the jewels into the car. Scotland Yard is searching for you. Your friend Ms. Harkness spent all night being interrogated as to your involvement and whereabouts.”

Piper gasped. “Jodie was with the police? Oh my God, is she okay?”

“She is fine. Belishaw has connections and influence. She isn’t a suspect, so they couldn’t hold her for long.”

Piper exhaled in relief and leaned back against the counter.

“But you are a suspect,” Mikhail said. His lips firmed into a thin, grim line.

“Me? But I…you made me!” Panic seized her entire body. The terror and stress of the previous night flooded back.

Mikhail caught her by the shoulders, staring down at her. His green eyes smoldered, and the irises seemed to shift and swirl with honey-gold fire. “Calm down, little dove. I won’t let anything happen to you. You will not take the blame for my actions. Understood?”

She gave a shaky nod, but she didn’t know how he could make a promise like that. Scotland Yard was searching for her, and they had proof that she’d helped Mikhail. There was no evidence that she’d been coerced, no way to back up her version of the story. To all outward appearances, she’d helped Mikhail of her own free will and run off with him like a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde.

“Breathe, just breathe,” Mikhail urged her, one hand on her hip again, but she shoved him away.

“Breathe? That’s your advice? This is all your fault! If you hadn’t used me to get to the jewels, they wouldn’t think I was part of your plan!”

She brushed past him and dashed up the stairs to her room. The harsh, explosive sound of her slamming the door and the echoing rattle of the doorknob offered her only a tiny bit of satisfaction.

“Piper,” Mikhail said through the door. “Let me in.”

“I just want to be alone. Please,” she begged. “Haven’t you done enough?”

There was a long, deafening silence, and then he spoke again. “Very well. But I promise, I will clear your name.”

His soft footfalls retreated, and the creak of the stairs assured her that she was indeed alone. She should’ve been glad about that, but Mikhail’s absence left her feeling strangely hollow inside. She walked over to the windows and looked at the cliffs by the sea.

She lost herself in her thoughts for a long time, until she noticed a figure walking away from the house toward the cliffs. It was Mikhail. Despite the biting wind and the misting spray of the sea butting against the rocks, he was outside without a coat, walking straight toward the cliffs.