I was frantic to get back to the house.

Wind and rain pelted my face as I held Natalie cradled against me and drove the four-wheeler through the jungle. The roar of the storm echoed over the hum of the engine. The vehicle’s headlights bounced off tree trunks, rocks, and downed limbs while the wheels bumped and jostled us in the seat.

I wrapped my arm tighter around her, pulling her closer to me so she wouldn’t slide off my lap. Every jolt made her groan, and every one of her groans sent a new wave of worry coursing through my blood. Her skin radiated heat, making me sweat even out here in the rain.

Somehow I made it back to the house, but we were both drenched when I finally skidded to a stop in the mud near the front porch. Hefting Natalie into my arms, I rushed up the steps while rain ran in rivulets down my face and the howling wind whipped my hair around. She continued to radiate heat like a furnace, but whereas before she’d been semiconscious, now she was completely limp.

I picked up my pace, letting the golden glow from inside guide me. Shifting Natalie’s weight, I found the handle and shoved the door open with my hip. Water puddled beneath my feet as I shut the storm out, then looked down at Natalie’s rain-slicked face resting against my arm.

Her eyes were closed, her skin pale. But where I held her, I could tell her pulse was still strong. A little faster than normal, but not quick enough to make me panic. Yet.

I shook the wet hair back from my forehead and carried her into the same room she’d slept in last night. Veering into the adjoining bathroom, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, then laid her on the bed so her wet hair and clothes wouldn’t soak the blankets and pillows.

She grunted as I set her down, which I took as a good sign. My pulse slowed with the confirmation she wasn’t unconscious, just asleep.

“Hold on, Natalie.” I reached for the hem of her wet tank and pulled it up her torso. “I’ve got you.”

She shivered as I stripped off her wet clothes and wrapped her quickly in the thick towel. Lifting her in my arms again, I jerked the thick blankets back, set her on the sheets—towel and all—and tugged the comforter up to her chin.

A shiver racked her body once more, and she snuggled deeper into the blankets, never once opening her eyes. I needed to get that wound cleaned and bandaged on her leg, but first I needed to get antibiotics into her system to knock down whatever infection was causing this fever. There was no way I was getting her to a hospital in the middle of this storm, which meant all I could do was hope Sela had stockpiled enough medical supplies for a situation like this.

Confident Natalie was safe for the moment, I turned for the door. Rain and wind lashed at the villa, shaking the walls. I wasn’t worried about the structure—I’d ridden out worse storms in this place—and because the island had its own renewable energy-generated microgrid that relied primarily on solar and wind power, I was certain we wouldn’t lose electricity. I was more worried about how long this storm might last in case Natalie’s situation turned dire.

“That’s not going to happen,” I muttered as I moved down the hallway toward the room off the kitchen where Sela kept first aid supplies.

I’d learned early on—from a cut on my arm clearing brush—that it was smart to have all kinds of supplies on hand. We were an hour by boat to the closest island, two to the nearest hospital. I purposely hadn’t built a landing strip for security reasons. The only way out quickly was by helicopter, which I rarely used. The radios would be down because of the storm, which meant I was stuck waiting until the skies cleared before making a decision to expose both of us in Tahiti or keep us hidden a little while longer here in paradise.

I found the supplies I needed and headed back to Natalie, fighting the tightness in my chest. My plan was not going to work if I had to take her to a hospital. It was too early to expose her to the outside world. She’d be okay. This was just a minor hiccup in my plan.

Natalie was in the same spot I’d left her in when I returned to—shivering under the blankets with her eyes tightly closed and a thin layer of sweat slicking her forehead. Flipping the lamp on, I sat on the edge of the bed and placed the first aid supplies on the nightstand. I made quick work of drawing up the syringe of penicillin, then peeled the covers back and slid the needle into the muscle of her upper arm.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t show any sign of feeling the injection, just continued to shiver. After covering the injection site with a bandage, I tucked her arm beneath the blankets, moved down the bed, and pulled the bottom edge of the comforter back.

The wound on her leg was roughly two inches long, red, swollen, and definitely infected. My stomach swirled as I cleaned and bandaged the cut. Like before, she made no move that she was aware of what I was doing or even that I was there.

I placed all the supplies in the top nightstand drawer for when I’d need them again, then I quickly took her vitals and jotted everything in a notebook. I set a reminder on my phone for four hours, then I rose from the bed and placed the back of my hand against her forehead.

She was still burning up. I hadn’t expected the medication to kick in yet, but I wanted it to. My chest tightened with the realization that if her fever didn’t break by the time this storm was over, I’d have no other choice but to take her to that hospital in Tahiti.

The radio on my belt squawked, followed by a voice that seemed to fill the entire room. “Haych to base. Come in?”

Jerking my hand away from Natalie, I reached for the radio and turned the volume way down so it wouldn’t wake her. “Go ahead,” I said quietly as I flipped off the light and moved for the door.

“Did you find her?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.” I stepped out into the hall and quietly closed the door at my back. “Are you with Sela?”

“Affirm. She didn’t want to be alone during the storm, so she’s at my place.”

I wasn’t surprised by that news. Sela hated storms.

“Wind’s blowing pretty hard though,” Haych went on. “Hoping we don’t lose anything structural.”

“You and me both.” I headed back toward the front of the villa and glanced toward the ceiling, where the wind whipped against the roofing material. “So far, so good.”

“I’ll have the radio near me all night,” Haych answered. “If you have any problems over there, give me a buzz.”

“Will do. Over.”

I slid the radio back on my belt and reached for the front door. The only thing I wanted to do was hunker down with Natalie to wait out her fever, but I had to get the four-wheeler put away before it was trashed in the storm. Then I had to plan for a worst-case scenario.

Drawing in a breath, I told myself being prepared was smart, but as I pulled the door behind me closed and the wind and rain whipped at my skin all over again, I couldn’t shake the feeling that lately, all I was doing was scrambling to avoid catastrophe. I was even starting to wonder if my plans were just making things worse.

From the first moment I’d met Natalie James, when she’d shown up in my office in New York to interview for that internship with Covet, I’d been on the defensive. Everything I’d done since then had backfired. Even my latest plan to keep her hidden in the South Pacific until she had time to submit to me and the new status of our relationship had failed. One look at her eyes in the jungle tonight had told me more than just that she was sick. It had told me nothing between us had changed and that it wasn’t about to anytime soon.

Something hard formed in the center of my chest as I slung a leg over the four-wheeler and started the ignition. Something that made it hard to breathe. Something I didn’t like.

I didn’t have a clue how to fix things with Natalie. I didn’t even know if I should try. All I knew at the moment was that I had to get through this night. Then hope and pray that when morning came, I’d have some bright idea that would tell me what the fuck to do next.

By daybreak, three things had happened. The storm had passed. Natalie’s fever had broken. And I’d realized that bullying Natalie James hadn’t worked once in all the time I’d known her.

I’d stayed awake most of the night administering her meds, keeping her forehead cool with a damp cloth, soothing her when she grew restless, and during that time, I’d done a lot of thinking. About me, about Natalie, and about the mess we were currently embroiled in.

Natalie was not naturally submissive. She enjoyed a little sexual domination now and then, but she was never going to be the kind of woman who did what she was told. Even if being told what to do was in her best interest. And that meant I had to face a hard fact: if I had any hope of getting through this fuckup alive, I needed to change my tactic when it came to Natalie. Instead of trying to dominate her, I needed to woo her.

The only problem was…I had zero experience wooing women. The women I’d been involved with before had gravitated toward me first. I rarely had to do more than give them an encouraging nod to get them to drop to their knees. But Natalie was different. She’d been different from the start, and I needed to do whatever it took to make her not only accept our marriage but remember just why she’d fallen for me in the first place. It was the only way either of us was ever going to be safe when we left this island. I just hoped like hell this time my plan actually worked and that I didn’t fuck things up even worse.

The watery light of early morning spilled through the wide windows, warming the room with ribbons of sunlight that fell over the bed. From my spot beside Natalie, propped up against the pillows, I checked her vitals one more time. Thankful they had normalized, I brushed a curly lock of damp hair back from her forehead and breathed easier knowing I wouldn’t have to take her to Tahiti.

Her skin was still pale, but the last time I’d checked her wound, it already looked better, and I was hopeful that in a few days, it would be nothing more than a thin scab. My gaze slid over her relaxed features as she lay beside me, breathing rhythmically in sleep—her feathery dark lashes brushing the soft skin beneath her eyes, her slim nose, those plump, pink lips barely parted that I’d kissed and tasted and licked more times than I could count in Italy.

Heat stirred inside me. Heat and a craving I shouldn’t be feeling considering she was still injured and completely out of it. Knowing nothing good would happen if she awoke and found me in her bed, I eased my arm away from her silky skin and shifted my legs to the side so I could slide off the bed without waking her. Just as I moved, warm fingers landed against my forearm.

“Stop.”

My heart sped up as a dozen explanations for what I was doing in her bed rushed through my mind. Her eyes were closed, but the peaceful expression I’d been studying for the last few hours was gone. Now her brows formed creases between her eyes, and tiny beads of perspiration suddenly dotted her forehead.

“Can’t…find…” She turned her face into the pillow where I’d just been reclined. “Wait…”

“Shh.” I stroked her hair and tried to comfort her. “You’re okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t find…” Her fingers moved from my arm to my chest, curling in my shirt until the fabric was clenched tightly in her fist. “Can’t…”

She was dreaming again. Of what, I didn’t know. She’d muttered incoherent things all through the night, whenever the fever had pulled her from sleep and messed with her mind.

“You’re okay, Natalie.” I kept my voice steady and calm, hoping to soothe her back to sleep. “You’re safe.”

She tossed her head on the pillow. Shifted her legs. “Can’t find...”

She inched her way higher in the pillows. I kept my body immobile as she flailed, not wanting to do anything to fully wake her. “There’s nothing to find.”

“Can’t”—she rolled onto her side toward me—“find...”

Bloody hell, I did not like the weak, raspy sound of her voice. “Can’t find what, angioletto?”

“You.” Her body stopped its frantic flailing, and her fingers tightened in my shirt, tugging the cotton toward her as she pressed her face against my throat. “Can’t find...you.”

Everything inside me stilled. Everything except my pulse, which raced like last night’s wind. Her hot breath against my throat fanned the flames I’d been battling as I’d lain beside her, and as her lips brushed my hypersensitized skin, I was suddenly aware of everything—how close she was, how good she felt, and just how very naked she was beneath the covers already riding low against her supple breasts.

The urge to wrap my arms around her overwhelmed me. I fought it with every fiber of my being, knowing if she were awake, she wouldn’t be touching me. For a week, she’d wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. The way she was holding on to me now had zero to do with me and everything to do with her fever. I was sure she didn’t even know who I was. Just a figment of her imagination. A fantasy. Maybe even the memory of her ex-lover.

Just the thought she might be fantasizing about her ex-fucking-lover made me see red. Made me realized this woman was a trigger for me and that in my current state of exhaustion, I was not thinking rationally. The best thing I could do was get out of her bed before I did something I’d later regret—like flip her to her back and remind her with my hands and mouth and body just how much she liked being dominated and that I was the only fucking lover she was allowed to fantasize about.

I lifted my fingertips from her bare shoulder and leaned back. But her grip on my T-shirt tightened, and her whole body angled forward. Sweat broke out along my spine. I moved my hand to hers, hoping to untangle her fingers from my shirt, but her grip was too strong. And when she pressed her lips against my throat again, I faltered because—holy hell—she felt too fucking good after a week of wanting and craving and too many damn fucking cold showers.

“Luc.”

I froze, trapped between what I thought I’d heard and what I desperately wanted her to say.

She cuddled even closer, until her sweet body was pressed tight against mine from chest to hip. “Don’t fade into the darkness where I can’t follow.”

I angled my chin down so I could see her face. Her eyes were still closed, and her forehead remained damp, but a flush now brightened her cheeks. And her lips—those sweet, succulent lips—were plump and pink and parted and so damn tempting, suddenly the only thing I wanted was to taste her and take her and make her mine like she’d been before.

My cock grew hard. I needed to leave. But I couldn’t keep from skimming my fingertips over her bare shoulder, from sliding them up the side of her throat and around to her nape. And when she sighed and lifted her lips to mine, I didn’t even try to stop her from kissing me.

Our mouths fused. Her lips instantly parted, and her tongue met mine, drawing me into her warm and tempting wetness. All that heat in my veins ignited, causing a rush of blood to gather in my groin, making my cock pulse and twitch. I tasted her slowly, stroking my tongue along hers until we both groaned. But it wasn’t enough. With Natalie, one kiss was never enough. I wanted more. I wanted all of her. I wanted to possess her and mark her and leave her writhing in a way that she’d know she would never belong to anyone but me.

Want shifted to need. Need flashed to an irresistible demand I could no longer ignore. Pressing my body into hers beneath the blankets that separated us, I rolled her to her back and kissed her deeper, taking charge of her lips, her body, her wants and desires, of everything we both knew was mine.

She groaned into my mouth. Let go of my shirt. Lifted her hands to my shoulders and shifted her fingertips to my jaw to hold my face close to hers. The subtle movement electrified me, encouraged me, made my whole body flame with desire. My kiss turned frantic, demanding, desperate. I explored every inch of her mouth, nipped at her bottom lip, kissed my way from the corner of her lips across her jaw to the silky soft skin behind her ear.

Beneath me, her body trembled, responding to my touch, to my fingers skimming her silky-soft side and coming to rest on the seductive curve of her hip. She shivered and lifted her torso, pressing her gorgeous breasts into my chest, making me ache to taste her straining nipples. As I moved my lips back to hers and claimed her in another searing kiss, I couldn’t stop myself from rocking my throbbing erection into her thigh. From envisioning her naked body beneath mine, open and eager and ready. From remembering how good it felt when she pulled me in toward all her steamy heat, and I thrust deep inside her until we were both lost in mindless pleasure.

“Luc,” she whispered against my lips. “Mmm…”

The sound of her voice, the heat of her skin, the familiar taste of her on my tongue made me crazed for more. I kissed the other side of her mouth and pressed my lips to her jaw, working my way down to her throat to nip and lick and suck at her tantalizing skin. God, I wanted her. Wanted her more than I ever remembered wanting her before. Couldn’t wait to have her. Lifting my hand from her hip to her ribs, I carefully skimmed the outside of her breast, aching to wrap my hand around the soft, plump globe and squeeze.

She sighed. I ran my tongue along the seductive column of her throat and sucked. She tipped her head toward mine. My hand moved higher, pushing the sheet aside. Her fingers fell from my jaw to my shoulder. I brushed my knuckles under the soft curve of her right breast as I continued to taste her neck, as I worked my way lower to the hollow indent near her clavicle.

She relaxed beneath me. And I told myself she was giving in to the sensations, that she was melting under my touch, that she was submitting to me the way I’d always wanted her to. But when she exhaled a long, deep breath and her fingers slid from my shoulders to drop to the mattress at her sides, the reality of what she was actually doing wriggled its way into my sex-crazed mind, causing me to ease back just enough so I could see her face.

The tension in her features was gone. Her eyes were still closed, those sexy lashes brushing her tender flesh, but where before there had been tightness in her skin from worry and stress, now there was nothing. Not even a dot of perspiration on her brow. Nothing but silky smooth skin over flawless features that made her look every inch the angel I knew she was.

“Natalie?”

She didn’t respond. Didn’t do anything but continue to breathe slow and steady as she drifted back into a deep sleep.

“Merda.”

My straining body screamed for me to pull the blanket back, to spread her steamy thighs, and thrust hard inside her. But there was just enough decency left inside my sex-addled brain to keep from giving in to the depraved urge.

I rolled off her delectable body as carefully as I could and dropped to my back on the mattress beside her. As I stared up at the ceiling and tried to slow my raging pulse, I was achingly aware of the fact she likely wouldn’t remember a moment of what had just happened between us. If she’d been dreaming about me earlier, she now clearly wasn’t. And the fucked-up reality was…she probably never would.

It took supreme effort, but I managed to push myself off the bed, tug the covers back up around her, and leave the room without touching her again. In the hall, I scrubbed my hand through my hair, hoping the sensation would be enough to kill the craving still burning in my veins.

It didn’t even come close.

Sela was at the stove when I stepped into the kitchen, seeking coffee. She turned when I entered and frowned before shifting back to whatever she was cooking.

“You look like shit,” she muttered as I moved to the counter, grabbed a mug from the cupboard, and reached for the—thankfully—fresh-brewed coffeepot.

I felt like shit too. Horny shit now, thanks to the last ten minutes. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

I took my coffee to the table and sank into a chair, exhaustion tugging at me. Footsteps sounded across the wood floor as I sipped the hot brew, then a plate slid into my line of sight. The scent of Sela’s famous macadamia nut pancakes drifted to my nose.

I glanced up as she let go of the plate. “Comfort food?”

“I figured you probably had a rough night.”

She didn’t know the half of it. As she moved back to the stove, I reached for the syrup from the middle of the table and doused my pancakes before taking a bite.

She slid into the seat across from me with her own coffee while I ate. I knew Sela’s habits, so I knew she’d already eaten before she’d come over to the villa this morning. I also knew she was giving me time to refuel before hitting me with whatever was on her mind. As I expected, she waited until I was halfway through my breakfast before she wrapped both hands around her mug and leaned forward.

“So, how is she?”

I swallowed the bite in my mouth. “She’ll live.”

“Is that good or bad news?”

I pinned her with a look.

“What?” She leaned back in her seat, still gripping the mug in both hands, her expression both entertained and innocuous. “It’s a legitimate question.”

With a frown, I went back to my breakfast. Sela was smart enough not to interrupt me during the rest of my meal, but I’d lost my appetite. It was a good thing—the best thing—that Natalie was out of danger and on the mend. But since I hadn’t told Sela much of anything about Natalie yet, I knew I was about to be inundated with questions I didn’t want to answer.

When the last of my pancakes were gone, I dropped my fork on the plate with a clink, reached for my coffee, and prepared myself for the inquisition. “Just ask what you want to ask so we can be done with this.”

“That’s such a wonderful way to initiate a discussion.”

I didn’t want to be having this conversation, but I didn’t tell her that. Aside from being smart and stable and more than capable at her job, Sela was easy to be around, and we had a comfortable working relationship when I was here and away. But more than that, we were friends, and I’d be stupid to do anything to jeopardize that friendship.

“Sorry. I’m tired.” I leaned back in my seat and rubbed my hand over my face. “It’s been a long night.”

“Looks like it.”

Even without glancing at her, I could hear the compassion in her voice. It was enough to mellow me out. I sighed and dropped my hand against my thigh. “What would you like to know?”

“Well”—she shifted in her seat—“for starters, judging by the way she booked out of here yesterday when she woke up, I’m guessing she’s not thrilled with your current situation.” The way Sela glanced at my left hand wrapped around my mug told me loud and clear she was zeroed in on my ring.

“No, she’s not.” Since I hadn’t wanted to get into too many details with Sela and Haych, I’d only given them the basics: that Natalie and I had met in New York, that we’d had a whirlwind relationship, that we’d gotten married on a whim—a lie, but they didn’t need to know that part—and that we were here now because my family had found out about her. Sela knew first-hand how vengeful my House could be, so I was confident she wouldn’t question that part. But I hadn’t stopped to think how Natalie’s reaction to me might be interpreted by my staff.

I waited for her to ask more. She studied me speculatively, but she didn’t ask the things I expected… What did you do to piss her off? Why does she hate you so much? Why is your House threatened by her? Instead, she asked the one thing I never predicted.

“Why her? I know you’ve dated lots of women, but you’ve never brought one to the island. And you’ve never married one on a whim. In fact, you always swore you’d never get married.”

The question threw me because even though I was ready to discuss the situation with regard to my family and Natalie, I wasn’t prepared to answer questions about us. I stared down at the coffee cooling in my mug and tried to come up with an answer that made sense. Nothing spinning in my head sounded good enough. The only thing I could come up with made me feel…exposed in a way I definitely didn’t like.

My first instinct was to hedge, but I owed Sela something, so I forced myself to say, “Because she sees me. Really sees me, like no one else ever has. And she’s done that from the start.”

Sela leaned back in her own chair and studied me with narrowed eyes. It wasn’t the romantic answer I knew she was looking for but I didn’t care. It was the truth. I’d never had to hide who I was inside from Natalie. I’d hid plenty of other shit about myself from her, but never that. She’d seen the real me that first day in my office in New York, and it hadn’t scared her. In fact, it had challenged her. Challenged her and sent us both spinning headfirst into something I don’t think either of us could have predicted or fathomed.

“Does she know about us?”

I reached for my mug and lifted it to my lips. “What about us?”

“Why I’m here. How I came to be here.”

“No.” I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Natalie about Sela yet.

“I’m fairly certain she saw my tattoo yesterday when I was in her room. She did not look thrilled by my presence. In fact, she looked downright pissed. She knows what I am.”

A familiar burst of rage gathered in my gut, but I tamped it down. “That’s not what you are.”

“It’s what I was,” she said matter-of-factly. “You can’t change that.”

My jaw clenched. No, I couldn’t. But I wouldn’t let her be identified by it either. Grabbing my plate and utensils, I rose from my seat and moved for the sink. “It’s a nonissue. I’ll make sure Natalie knows it’s a nonissue when she wakes.”

I was ready to be done with this conversation. I was exhausted from no sleep, emotionally wrung out from the last week, and sexually frustrated now thanks to this morning’s stupid makeout session. I needed to check on Natalie, then crash for a few hours before heading out to help Haych clean up from the storm.

After rinsing my plate, I put it and my utensils in the dishwasher then closed the door, intent on wrapping this little pow-wow up as quickly as possible. But when I turned, Sela was staring at me with a penetrating gaze I felt all the way in my bones, and I knew she wasn’t even close to being done yet.

“Did you tell her about Vittoria?” she asked.

My whole body tightened in anticipation of memories I did not want to relive. Even though I tried to keep my voice even and calm, I knew it dropped to a threatening level when I said, “She doesn’t need to know about Vittoria, and you’re not going to tell her about Vittoria.”

Instead of backing down from, Sela tipped her head and frowned from her spot at the table. “You know, for a bright guy, you are really stupid when it comes to women, Luciano.”

My patience reached a breaking point. I liked Sela. I respected her, especially after all she’d been through in her life. I even recognized now that the reason I felt a connection to her was because she was a lot like Natalie—a fighter, not easily intimidated, and tough as nails. And the more time she spent away from Italy and my House, the stronger and more independent she became. But I was officially done with this line of questioning. Vittoria was off-limits, and she knew that. The only reason I’d ever told her about Vittoria was so that she’d know I wasn’t interested in her sexually.

I turned for the hall.

“If you want to make things right with Natalie,” Sela said at my back, “then you need to tell her about Vittoria.”

I scoffed. It might take a few more days, but I was confidant Natalie would eventually come to her senses. If I told her about Vittoria, she’d never let me get close to her again. “It’s not happening.”

“You said she sees the real you,” Sela said as I reached the hall. “If that’s true, stop playing games and tell her the whole truth. It’s the only way she’s ever going to understand. And I guarantee it’s the only way you’re going to win her back.”

I moved out of the kitchen without responding. But my spine tingled the whole way to Natalie’s door.

She was still sleeping the way I’d left her—tucked under the covers and peacefully immobile. I checked her vitals, jotted everything down in my notebook, then felt her forehead. No fever. As quietly as I could, I slipped out of the room, not tempted this time to stay with her. I had too many things on my mind—too many doubts spinning in my brain thanks to my conversation with Sela. And I hated every one.

In my room, I kicked off my boots and collapsed on my bed. I didn’t bother changing out of the dirty clothes I’d worn last night. Didn’t bother getting under the covers. I just stared up at the peaked, beamed ceiling and fought back memories of a dark night twelve years before that had changed me and my life for good.

Sela was wrong. I could fix this fucked-up situation by sticking to the plan I’d come up with this morning. Natalie had fallen for me once, and I hadn’t even been all that charming then. If I actually put a little effort into spoiling her, I was confident I could make her fall for me all over again, even with all the shit that had happened between us.

Exhaling a long breath, I closed my eyes and reassured myself this was the right thing to do—the only thing I could do.

Then I fought like hell not to dream about Vittoria and what I’d done to her.