The look on the attorneys’ faces was almost comical as Anthony gave them a smug smile.

Pete seemed to muster up some false bravado. "Marry her? Christy Chapman? Even if you do find her—"

"When I find her," Anthony interrupted.

"Even when you find her," the harried man continued, "I can't see her marrying you."

"And why is that?" Anthony asked, his voice gruff and his stare intimidating. He stepped closer to them.

Pete took a step back. "Not trying to offend you, but even if she was into you, which I'm sure she wouldn't be, you're not exactly the kind of guy a decent woman like Christy Chapman brings home to meet the family."

Sensing that Pete may have overstepped his welcome, Dan started to say something, but Anthony waved him off.

"So, you're saying I'm not decent? Is it because of what you've heard about me?" Anthony didn't even mention the fact that the man admitted Christy was a decent woman and therefore should know that what Van was asking them to do was low and dirty. They were both agreeing to this ludicrous plan which told Anthony they were as despicable as Van.

"Well, yeah, I guess that, but you know..." Pete took a nervous swipe at his brow and looked around.

"No, I don't know." Anthony glared at him, his brows knitted together in a fierce scowl.

"I think what Pete is trying to say, and not too clearly, is obvious," Dan interjected. "C'mon, let's not tiptoe around the elephant in the room. We're all adults here, and we both know that you and Christy Chapman don't belong together. She's a woman of wealth, privilege and class and you're..." His words died off, and the tension in the air was so thick it could snap.

"Say it," Anthony growled.

"You know what I'm trying to say," Dan said, standing up a little straighter in an attempt at boldness.

"Yeah, I do know, but I want to hear you say it."

"You're an Indian, and you don't belong with a white woman," Dan practically screamed.

Pete shrunk back at Dan's outburst and waited for Anthony's retaliation. When there was none, both men fidgeted.

Anthony let them squirm for thirty seconds. In a calm voice, he said, "This is 1978, not 1878." Anthony's lip curled. "But that's not the point." He paused before adding, "You go back, and you tell Van Chapman that I don't want his one million or my seventy thousand."

The men looked back at Anthony surprised, and before either one could comment, Anthony continued, "And you let him know that if I find out that you scumbags bring his offer to someone else, I will bury the three of you, but not without you suffering slow, painful deaths."

Both men stared.

"You have no idea how I can be when it comes to stripping a man not only of his dignity, but his body parts. Did you ever hear the story about the settler who was squatting on Native American territory back when the white man first tried to steal our land? They chopped off his hands and cut a hole in his stomach. They pulled out his intestines and wrapped them around a piglet. Then they sat back and watched as the man tried to chase the squealing animal without hands while his guts were pulled out of him."

Pete started shaking, and Dan swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"That's nothing compared to what I'll do to you. Get out of my house and pray I never hear your names again."

Neither man had to be asked twice. They were out the front door in a flash. Anthony stood in his entryway and watched them speed off. When he could no longer see their car, he walked quickly to the master bedroom closet and entered the hidden room. Christy was sitting on the bed, her hands in her lap, looking up at him with her soulful and expectant bright blue eyes. He held out his hand, and she took it and followed him out to the living room. They heard X's motorcycle, and Anthony met him at the door.

"No longer an emergency, but c'mon, I have something interesting to tell you and Christy," Anthony said as X followed him to where Christy stood in the living room.

Christy didn't make a sound when Anthony repeated what Van told his attorneys to offer him. He left out the part about her monetary worth and his comment that he was going to marry her.

"What did you tell them?" she asked.

"I told them a scary Native American legend. Said it was mild compared to what I would do to them and Van if they went to anyone else with his offer."

"What was the legend?" Her voice was just a whisper.

"Doesn't matter and I don't know if it’s true or not, but it scared them, and that was my intention." He gave her a hard look, then looked at X. "But what is true is that they'll meet a worse fate if they even attempt to come near you."

She stood and wouldn't look either man in the eye. "I think I want to lie down," she said to the floor.

She started to walk past Anthony and he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. "No one is getting near you, Christy. You know that, right?" he asked.

She nodded without saying anything and broke from his grasp. He let her go and watched as she silently headed back toward his bedroom.

Anthony spent the next thirty minutes discussing business with X. After bidding Alexander goodbye, he headed for the bedroom and was surprised when he didn't find Christy on the bed. He noticed a glowing light under the bathroom door, and he knocked. "You okay, honey?" he asked, turning his ear toward the hard wood.

"It's not locked," she called back. "You can come in."

Anthony opened the door and was momentarily taken aback. She was sitting in his whirlpool tub, surrounded by candles with foam up to her chin. She must've found Veronique's stash. He walked to the tub and stood over her. She stared straight ahead at her reflection in a mirror and uttered one word.

"No."

"No?" he asked.

"No. I've never had an orgasm before." Her face was beet red, and he didn't know if it was brought on by the heat of the water or embarrassment. Christy's perfume, mingled with the lavender bubble bath, rising with the steam assaulted his senses.

She still wouldn't look at him as she stared into the mirror at the opposite end of the tub, but she knew he was undressing. In record time, he stepped into the tub and arranged himself behind her, his instant erection pressing into her back. She tried to burrow back against him even more, and her perfect breasts jutted up from the bubbles. He almost came just looking at them from over her shoulder.

"I've tried," she confessed. "I don't think I can have them. I get to a certain point. An edge I can't get over. It's frustrating. I stopped trying."

"Will you let me try?" he whispered into her ear. She didn't say anything and time seemed to stand still.

After a few more seconds she nodded.

He laid gentle kisses on her temple and neck. He used one hand to softly stroke her breast while his other hand found the spot between her legs and expertly went to work. "Don't think," he told her. "Let yourself enjoy it."

It didn't take long before she was squirming. "I can’t..." But the words died on her lips as Anthony felt her let go. She let out a scream and arched her back, her shoulders and head pressing hard into his chest. Both of her hands gripped his thighs, her nails digging in deep.

Anthony watched her face in the mirror and realized that he'd never seen a more beautiful sight and he didn't need to be inside her to know what his feelings were for this woman. He found joy in her release, and he knew that he wanted to watch her experience what only he had been able to give her for the rest of their lives. He slowly turned her around to face him, and she straddled his lap, coming down slowly on his hardness. She was so tight he thought she might've lied about her virginity. When he didn't feel any resistance, he knew she'd told the truth, and he realized he didn't care. He may not have been her first, but he would make sure he was her last. She smiled at him and it shot straight to his heart. That smile was filled with passion, anticipation and maybe even a little self-consciousness. He slowly guided her, and it wasn't too long before they found a perfect rhythm. Afterward, she leaned against his hard chest and traced a tattoo on his huge bicep.

"Do you think your sister will care that we're using her bubble bath?" she asked, her voice taking on a teasing tone.

Anthony decided not to correct her. "Nah, she probably doesn't even remember she left it here," he lied.

"Thank you," she said into his neck.

"For?" he asked, knowing what the answer was going to be.

"You know what for," she quickly countered.

"Next time I'll do it with my tongue." His voice was deep and still thick with need.

He felt her smile against his chest as he softly stroked her back.

"I could get used to this," she confessed.

Good, Anthony thought. Get used to it. Because you belong to me. You’re mine, Christy Chapman. Always, and forever, and only mine.

"Anthony?"

"Yes, Owani?"

"I'm ready for next time."