Several more days passed before they finally discovered Van and Vivian’s whereabouts. During that time, they lived a rather normal existence in Anthony’s home. Christy was surprised when he gave her a complete tour of the house, including his hidden safe room. He’d left her alone a few times while he checked on his businesses and the camp. He told her that he expected her to go straight to the hidden room if anyone approached the house. No exceptions. She was to lock herself in and page him. So far, she hadn’t needed to use the room. Nobody showed up the few times he’d left. And she was beyond excited when he returned from one of his excursions with art supplies. During one of their many conversations, she casually mentioned that she found comfort in painting. She admitted to not being very good since she hadn't painted in years, but Litzy had once suggested she give it a try. Christy found that painting helped her cope with her insecurities. Anthony didn’t press her about her fears. He knew she was afraid of thunderstorms and he didn’t pry further.

They fell into a comfortable routine. She spent a lot of her time on the phone, still trying to locate Van and Vivian. Anthony had shown her the safe where he kept the spare phones, and she used the untraceable line more than once to check in with Detective Cochran. She found out that the police couldn’t substantiate the threats to her family, and Nadine and her children were back in their home.

“I can’t say the same for you, Christy,” the detective had told her. “Apparently, your brother and his estranged family don’t appear to hold any interest, but when we questioned the men that are looking for Van, they expressed curiosity about you.”

“So, you’ve identified the people who are looking for Van?” she asked, pretending not to know the answer already. The day after the hurricane threat, X had informed Anthony that Van owed money to two other men. One was a big-time shark with some serious thugs on his payroll who hid behind his pawn shops and meted out loans from the back room. The other one was a bit more serious. A bookie who’d fronted Van a considerable amount of money. He was the one who'd set up the wiretap on the phone at her apartment. X still hadn’t been able to link the two men in business suits who, according to Christy’s landlord, had shown up at her apartment—possibly the same two men who’d shown up when Lourdes was cleaning, claiming to work for Van.

After listening to Detective Cochran repeat what she’d already known, Christy promised that she would stay put in a location she refused to disclose until the threat was gone. She hung up before the detective could question her further.

She’d never believe that I’m right under her nose, Christy thought as she felt Anthony’s warm arms surround her from behind.

He softly kissed the side of her temple. “We’re out of Lourdes’ meals. You wanna help me in the kitchen?” he inquired.

“Yes, as long as you know to proceed at your own risk,” she teased.

He led her by the hand to the kitchen, picked her up and sat her on the counter. She watched him pull some things from the refrigerator and cupboard, admiring his strong jawline and silky black hair that swayed just above his belt as he worked. Hair that a shampoo model would envy.

At first, she’d been grateful that he hadn’t tried to do anything but kiss her in the last five days, but she started to wonder if something was wrong with her. He lay down beside her every night in his king-sized bed, and she fell asleep in his arms. She woke up alone every morning and usually found Anthony at his desk or in his shop. She still wasn’t sure if she was ready. She’d been a little intimidated after hearing Anthony’s stories about sleeping with so many women. Women that she was certain were skilled in physical intimacy. An intimacy that she knew only on the most basic level.

As if reading her mind, Anthony swung around and looked at her. She sat up straight when she recognized the look in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can hold off too much longer, Christy,” he said, his voice thick. He walked to her, and she wrapped her legs around him. “I’ve done my best to stay back, give you time to come to me, but I don’t think I can climb into that bed with you one more night without touching you.” He kissed her, and she groaned into his mouth.

She pulled back from him and relaxed her legs. “Why haven’t you tried anything?” she asked and leaned back on the counter. She chewed on her lip, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

“I can feel you aren’t ready. Am I wrong?” he asked, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. He couldn’t tell her the real reason that he hadn’t pushed her. Yes, he found that he respected her, unlike any woman he’d ever been with. But there was more to it. He knew that taking their relationship to a higher physical level would bring it to a higher emotional one as well, and he wasn’t ready to face what he might learn. He didn’t think he could bear to realize that she might be nothing more than another lay. He was afraid of waking up the morning after and feeling nothing. He cared enough about the girl to not want to hurt her in that way. Then there was the other side of the spectrum. Waking up the next morning and knowing that he didn’t want to live one single day without her. He wasn’t sure which scenario scared him more, and playing house for a week had brought him to a place he’d never been before. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he liked it.

Having Christy in his home felt right, and for now, he wasn’t ready to give that up should it come to light that he didn’t care beyond what happened between the sheets.

“A little. In the beginning. But…” She paused and then looked away. She took a deep breath and looked back at him. “But not anymore.”

He could no longer deny his physical desire and made the instant decision that he was ready to go to the next level with her. He wasn't concerned about taking her virginity since her brother had already told him about the older boyfriend she'd spent months with. When he asked Christy about him, she refused to go into detail but insisted that it'd been over for years. She may not have opened up about the man, but she also didn't deny his existence. This told Anthony that she was experienced and he felt a stab of disappointment at not being her first, but tried to convince himself that it was a good thing in the event this turned out to be nothing more than physical attraction.

Anthony leaned into her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist again, this time locking her feet behind him. He started to kiss her neck as he unbuttoned her blouse. She threw her head back and moaned when he lightly bit her nipple through the fabric of her blouse and bra as he made his way down the buttons. Without warning, he roughly picked her up off the counter and effortlessly carried her to his bedroom. He gently laid her on the bed and removed his shirt, never taking his eyes off her.

She looked up at him, and he saw the uncertainty in her expression. He climbed on the bed and straddled her, bending down to kiss her. He drank her in slowly, hardening as he made his way down her neck and she groaned. She helped him remove her blouse, and he undid her bra like an expert, tossing it aside. He sat back to look at her, careful not to rest his full weight on her. The pain of his erection strained against his jeans.

She rubbed her hands against his smooth brown skin, lingering at his abdomen where she traced the muscular lines of his stomach. Her fingers followed the contour of a long, raised scar. He scooted back a little and swallowed thickly before undoing her pants and sliding them, along with her panties, down her perfectly tanned legs. He was admiring her when he saw her hand creeping downward. He thought she was going to touch herself and realized she was trying to cover her most intimate place.

"Christy?"

She didn't answer and he told her, "Don't cover yourself. You're beautiful."

He gently took both her hands and held them to her sides as he arranged himself between her legs. He still hadn't removed his jeans. He wanted to take his time with her and started at her neck, making his way slowly to her breasts where he lingered at each one. Her arousal was obvious as his hand found its way between her legs. The anticipation of tasting her was too much, and he kissed his way down her stomach, below her belly button. He was kissing the inside of her thigh when he sensed her stiffen and he felt her hands pulling at his hair. He looked up.

She had a look of horror on her face. "W-what are you doing down there?" she asked.

"I'm trying to go down on you," he said, the confusion on his face obvious.

"You mean put your mouth there?" she asked. "Like, you want to kiss me there?"

Kiss her there?

He shook his head as if to clear it and sat up. She did too and scooted back from him, reaching for her clothes and using them to try and cover herself.

"Christy? Are you a virgin?" he asked as he sat on his haunches.

She looked away from him. "No. I'm not a virgin, and you already know that," she huffed.

He nodded. "Okay. I believe you. I know about the older boyfriend."

She continued to look away.

"Are you telling me that the entire time you were with him, he never went down on you?"

"Do you mean put his face there like you were doing?" she asked without meeting his eyes.

"You don't even know what it means to go down on a woman?" he asked, his voice carrying a pitch of disbelief.

"I've heard that term before. And you said it when you were telling me about the older women you slept with. I know it’s when a guy puts his face there. I just don’t know why you would want to." She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked over his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. “Or why I would want you to.” Her tone was defensive.

He broke out in a sly wide smile. Oh, you’ll want me to, he thought.

She turned her gaze back to him and seeing his roguish grin, quickly looked away.

"You're twenty years old and not only did your boyfriend never go down on you, but you aren’t even sure what it means?" He ran his hand through his hair, still trying to come to terms with her naivety.

What could she tell him? That she hadn't grown up like the typical teenager? That she lived under a rock? She didn't have girlfriends to swap secrets with and she certainly never discussed sex with Litzy or Vivian. She'd taken a sexual education class in high school, but she didn't remember slang being taught. It was more about birth control and sexually transmitted diseases. She'd never peeked at a girlie magazine, and she’d certainly never watched a pornographic movie. Her bank account may have been huge, but her world was very small. A blush crept up her face.

"Have you ever had an orgasm?" he asked. "Do you even know what one is?"

Christy took a deep breath and started to answer him when her expression changed.

"Someone's here," she whispered.

"Nobody is here," he told her as he started to move up toward the headboard where she was perched against it. His long hair was swaying, and it tickled her legs as he approached her.

"Yes, there is. I heard a car. Someone is here, Anthony," she insisted.

He reached for the television remote on his nightstand and aimed it toward the set that was on his dresser. He pressed the power button and changed the channel. She was right. The hidden camera on his front porch showed two well-dressed men getting out of a four-door sedan and walking toward his door. They looked like the two men that he'd watched on the surveillance tape the night he let Lourdes clean his house.

"Lock yourself in the safe room, Christy," he demanded. She jumped off the bed and started to put her clothes on when he told her, "Take them with you. You can put them on in there." She headed for his closet and turned around to say something when she saw him pull a gun from one of his dresser drawers and tuck it into the back of his jeans. She watched him put his shirt back on. A sharp rap at the front door broke the silence. Anthony saw her reflection in the mirror and noticed she was frozen in the closet doorway.

"Go!" he whisper-shouted before he headed for the front door. "When you get inside, you page X. His number is by the phone. You put in two-two-nine-one-one. He'll know what it means. You got it?" he asked.

She nodded, but he saw her eyes were as big as saucers and shiny. She was scared.

He walked toward her and took her face in his hands. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Owani," he told her.

She sniffled and asked, "What if they hurt you?"

"It's not going to happen. Go, Christy. Promise you'll stay in there until X or I come for you."

There were two more raps at the front door.

He kissed her nose and watched her disappear into the huge closet. He didn't leave the bedroom until he heard the unmistakable slide of the hidden panel and knew she was safe.