I had the strangest sense of déjà vu. That I’d been here before. That something wasn’t right. That in a minute, I was going to wish I’d just stayed asleep.

Dread swept through me as I struggled to open my eyes. Through hazy vision, I spotted a figure across the room turning toward me. Bright light shone at his back, shrouding his face in shadow, but I knew who it was. I could tell from the breadth of his shoulders and the familiar way he moved.

I tensed as Luc stepped toward me, then shifted back on what I realized was a mattress—the same mattress I’d awoken on once before.

“No, don’t try to get up.” He stopped at the foot of the bed and didn’t make any move to touch me, which I was thankful for. “I just changed the bandage on your leg. It’s better, but you should try to stay off it another day to give it time to heal.”

I hated the way his familiar scent—a mixture of jasmine and rum and cedar—made me light-headed, made my stomach clench with a rush of memories I didn’t want to remember and a host of feelings I didn’t need to feel. But before I could tell him to back away so I could save my sanity, his words sank in, and my hand froze around the edge of the blanket.

“My leg?” I threw the comforter back and stared at the large white bandage covering the outside of my left shin. “What did you do to me this time?”

My voice sounded raspy and gravelly, not my own, but I was concerned only with what else he’d done when I’d been asleep.

From the corner of my vision, I saw the way Luc’s shoulders stiffened, and a whisper of guilt rushed through me for immediately assuming the worst, but I pushed that aside. He’d drugged me, kidnapped me, and forced me into a marriage I didn’t want. It wasn’t a stretch to infer he’d injured me to make sure I couldn’t run—especially when I was clearly back where he wanted me to stay.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” he said in a tone that was a lot calmer than I expected. “Though it is my fault you’re hurt. I should have noticed the cut on your leg before last night. If I had…”

He paused, and the tiny bit of regret I heard in his voice forced my eyes from my bandaged leg up to his face. His—now that I could see him better—scruffy, as if he hadn’t shaved in several days, face.

“If I had,” he said more strongly, straightening his spine and slipping his hands into the front pockets of worn, dirty jeans, “you wouldn’t have gotten sick.”

I didn’t remember being sick. I remembered running from this room. Hiking in the jungle. Sitting down next to a palm tree and feeling weak—

“It’s time for your meds.” Luc moved to the nightstand beside me, pulled the top drawer open, and extracted a plastic medicine bottle. “Hold out your hand.”

Reflexively, I did as he said, staring at the two large, white pills as they dropped into my palm. “What is this?”

“Penicillin.” He handed me a bottle of water I hadn’t noticed sitting on the nightstand, careful not to touch me. “Now that you’re awake, I won’t have to give it to you intramuscularly anymore. The wound on your leg was infected, but I caught it in time. You’ll need to take these twice a day for the next eight days.”

I stared at the pills, trying to make sense of what he was saying. I didn’t remember being injured. I racked my brain, fighting to come up with a point in time when I’d been hurt, but all I could remember was that man attacking me in my house back in Boise.

Was that when it had happened? I’d been hurt then, but I didn’t remember being cut. The only other time I’d been cut—

My breath caught. The only other time I’d been cut was when I’d run from Luc in the woods after I’d seen that disgusting ritual in Italy. He’d slammed me to the ground to stop me. I’d hit the dirt hard. Something sharp had ripped through my pajama bottoms and stabbed into my leg. It had hurt, but I’d been so overwhelmed by everything else that I’d forgotten all about it. I hadn’t even cleaned the wound after he’d brought me back to the villa.

“I promise it’s just an antibiotic.” Luc’s somber voice interrupted my memories, and I glanced up at him and blinked. “Contrary to what you think right now, Natalie, I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help you.”

My stomach tightened as our gazes held. My vision was still a little blurry from sleep, but in his one-of-a-kind eyes, I didn’t see confrontation or stubbornness as I’d seen the last time I’d awoken. I saw exhaustion, regret, and the tiniest bit of fear.

I also saw heat. Or maybe I felt heat. My cheeks suddenly burned as images of his mouth moving against mine filled my head and made my lips tingle.

I swallowed hard and looked back down at the pills in my hand.

Confusion swirled inside me. Confusion laced with a good dose of warmth I didn’t want to be feeling.

I tossed the pills into my mouth and reminded myself he’d drugged me. He’d kidnapped me. He’d imprisoned me, for fuck’s sake. And whatever sickness I’d just survived was his fault too, since I’d been injured trying to run from him. I shouldn’t feel anything for him except hate. He was the reason I was in this mess. If he’d left me alone in New York weeks ago and hadn’t tempted me with a trip to Italy…

A knot formed in my belly as I swallowed the pills with a mouthful of water. Even before the medicine hit my throat, I knew I could blame Luc for a great many things but not for that. I’d jumped on the chance to go to Italy with him. He’d only asked me to join him as his assistant to keep me from investigating my friend’s death and delving too deeply into Salvatici family secrets. And I was the one who’d instigated our relationship when we’d been in Rome. He’d done his best to keep his distance from me, but I’d pushed until I’d gotten exactly what I’d wanted. I’d pushed until I’d gotten him.

“Look, Natalie.” Luc’s voice tugged at my attention again, but it did little to ease the unease now swirling in my stomach. “I know we have a lot to discuss, and I promise we will discuss it all very soon, but first, I need you to talk to your mother.”

“My mother?” My gaze shot back up to his.

He took the water bottle from my hands. “She left several messages on your home machine while we were in Italy. I’m sure she’s worried about you. I just need you to tell her you’re fine, that you met someone, and that you’re taking a long vacation. That should keep her quiet for a while.”

My pulse picked up speed. For the first time since I’d awoken on this blasted island, I saw a glimpse of freedom. Someone had to have found that dead body in my house. My elderly neighbor who’d been keeping an eye on the place had probably already contacted the police, who, realizing I was missing, had to have alerted the FBI. People were searching for me right this minute. They’d be able to track my phone call. I could let them know where I was. In a matter of hours, I could be free of this nightmare.

I licked my lips and wrapped my fingers around the edge of the blanket, trying not to let my excitement show. “Okay. Where’s the phone?”

Luc’s eyes narrowed. “Did I use the word phone? No phone.”

My chest seized, and I sat up before I could stop myself. “But—”

“No phone, Natalie. Do I look stupid?”

The bite in his voice caused me to ease back into the pillows, and I gripped the blanket tighter in my hands, pulling it up higher against my chest, remembering the time he’d lost his temper in Venice. I’d stupidly thought I could help him then instead of realizing I knew very little about his limits. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

He breathed deeply, and I watched as he worked to rein in his temper. All it did was solidify my own determination to get my hands on a phone.

He pulled a small handheld recording device from his pocket and held it out for me. “All you need to do is talk into this and say exactly what I told you to say. I’ll leave it on her voice mail.”

Panic surged inside me. “My mom won’t buy it. She’ll just try to call me back if I leave a message. She’s a talker, and she’ll want details. It would be better if I just called her mysel—”

“You are not calling her or anyone.”

My mouth snapped closed as I stared up at him. He didn’t make any move toward me, but his clipped words and hard voice told me I wasn’t going to win this battle.

Tension crackled between us. A tension that made me want to scratch his eyes out then comfort him…which made no fucking sense at all. My irritation—with him, with me, with everything—only shot higher.

“Look.” He raked a hand through his thick hair. “I’ll explain this simply so you don’t misunderstand. I cleaned your house before we left Idaho. Anyone who walks into your place isn’t going to see a struggle or a fight or any evidence of what happened there. No one knows where the piece of shit who attacked you is, and no one’s looking for you except your mother. And she’s only irritated you haven’t bothered to call her back. The last time you spoke to her, you told her you were meeting up with some of Elena’s friends in New York. Talk into this recorder as if you’re leaving your mother a phone message. Tell her you met someone, that you’re taking a long vacation, and that you’ll be out of the country without cell service for a while. That will appease her. That will keep her from drawing unwanted attention her way. It’s as simple as that.”

Several things hit me at once. He’d disposed of that dead body in my house. He’d cleaned the scene so no cops could trace anything back to him. And he’d either been listening in on my phone conversations for a good long time, or he had my cell phone now and had listened to the voice mails from my mother. Since I’d left my cell phone in Italy, and since I was sure finding my phone was how he’d known I’d left Tuscany the night everything between us had crumbled, my money was on the latter. But his last comment was the one that hit me hardest. It was the one that caused the air to hitch in my lungs and the ground to feel as if it moved beneath me.

“That will keep her from drawing unwanted attention her way.”

Fear twisted in my gut. A new fear I didn’t want him to see. It was one thing for his so-called House to come after me because of what I’d witnessed, but… Oh, God… It was a completely different situation altogether if they targeted my mother, who was completely innocent.

I reached for the recorder with shaky fingers, even though I tried to keep them steady. “She doesn’t know anything, Luc. This has nothing to do with her. You can’t—”

“I know she doesn’t,” he said calmly, watching me closely as he let go of the recorder and I pulled it close to my chest. “But we need to ensure she doesn’t do anything to make them think otherwise. The best thing you can do to help her is leave her a message that doesn’t raise suspicion.”

I wasn’t willing to fight him on this. I didn’t have the strength. It took five tries, but I finally left a message in what I hoped was a clear and normal voice. When I handed the recorder back to him, he nodded, telling me it was good enough. But in his stormy eyes, I didn’t see satisfaction or even victory. I saw wariness and what looked like a flicker of disgust.

He’d once told me he liked when I challenged him, when I stood up to him. I wasn’t willing to defy him when it came to the safety of my mother, and clearly, that repelled him.

I didn’t need or want his approval but seeing that look in his eyes cut me to the quick just the same.

I glanced down at the comforter as he tucked the voice recorder in his back pocket. I should be relieved by that knowledge. I should be happy he was repulsed by me in any way. It meant he’d stay away from me here on this island. But I wasn’t. I felt…rejected in a way that threw me more than I thought possible.

He rounded the foot of the bed without glancing my way. “We’ll talk more later. Right now, I have to get back outside to help Haych clean up from the storm.”

My gaze shot up. “Storm?”

“The one that hit us two nights ago. I heard on the wire it’s been upgraded to a category two cyclone, but I don’t think it was that strong when it hit us. It didn’t do any structural damage, but we’ve got trees down all over the island.”

My mind spun with useless facts I’d learned in college. Hurricanes in the South Pacific were called cyclones. Holy shit. We’d been hit by a hurricane, yet I still didn’t remember it—wind, yes, a little rain, but no big storm.

Shocked, I watched as he reached for the door handle and noticed what I’d missed earlier. Yes, he was wearing worn jeans, work boots, and a gray T-shirt marked with dirt that stretched seductively across his wide shoulders and showed off his muscular, dirt-streaked arms, but those muscles sagged at the shoulders, and exhaustion seemed to hang over him like a cloud.

He tugged the door open. “I’m just glad I found you before the full force of the cyclone hit us.”

Reality slammed into my chest, distracting me all over again. A reality that threw me even more than the shock of learning I’d completely missed a freakin’ cyclone. Luc hadn’t just bandaged my leg and saved me from some kind of infection. He’d rescued me from that storm as well.

I stared at him from the bed, more unsure than ever about what was going on here. Why was he saving me? Why was I even here? If I was such a threat to his family, why hadn’t he killed me already and extricated me from his life?

He stopped with the door open a foot. Stared out into the hall. Seemed to be on the verge of saying something. I waited, torn between needing to know what he was thinking and wanting to hide.

“You have free rein of the island,” he finally said, still not turning to look at me. “Anywhere you want to go.” He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck in a way that made me think he was nervous. Which was absolutely ridiculous, because Luciano Salvatici was never nervous. “I didn’t tell you about the storm the other day when you left here because I thought it was going to miss us. I was wrong. Cyclones are rare this time of year, but not completely unheard of. If I get news any other weather’s moving in, I’ll let you know.”

They weren’t the words I’d hoped to hear. At this point, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to hear, but I knew instantly that wasn’t it. His little announcement made it sound as if we’d be here a good long while.

He dropped his hand on a sigh before I could think of a way to ask about his plan without angering him all over again. “There are four of us on the island. In addition to you and me, Haych maintains the grounds, and Sela takes care of the house. I think you already met Sela. I’ll introduce you to Haych when you’re feeling better. They both have their own homes about a half mile from here.”

My stomach instantly tightened, and a familiar anger pulsed inside me, distracting me from my questions. I didn’t really care who Haych was. All I could focus on was the name Sela. She had to be the woman I’d talked to when I’d first awoken. The one with the leopard-print tattoo. The one who was clearly his kitten.

My gaze shot to the word Slave tattooed into my left ring finger. If he wasn’t planning on killing me, and he already had a kitten on this island, then what the hell did he need me for?

An all-new understanding hit me hard, morphing my anger to a rolling nausea that sent bile sliding up my throat, especially when I remembered the disgust in his eyes earlier. If I wasn’t here for him, it was possible I was here for someone else. Or so he could turn me into a sex kitten he could ship back to his family.

“Don’t, Natalie.”

I froze at the sound of Luc’s low voice above me, and a whisper of unease shot through me at the thought I might have said the words aloud.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said calmly—too calmly.

My gaze lifted. He’d let go of the door and was standing on the right side of my bed, close enough to touch if I reached out. Close enough for him to grab me if I tried to run. And he was staring right at me, his stormy eyes as intense and focused as I’d ever seen them.

“You’re wrong,” he said softly, more softly than I expected. “You’re safe here on this island. No one knows you’re here. No one’s going to find you. I realize it’s the last thing you want to do right now, but I need you to trust me on that. I need you to believe me.”

My pulse picked up speed, and my skin tingled. I didn’t want to trust him. I just wanted to get away from him. But the hint of desperation I heard in his voice tugged at my heart, and I couldn’t stop from feeling that connection in the center of my soul that I’d felt in Italy that first time he’d really looked at me in the living room of his suite.

Some part of me still loved him. I couldn’t deny it. Even though I was angry with him, even though I didn’t trust him, my heart still fluttered when he said my name, and butterflies took flight in my belly each time our eyes met. I wished I’d never learned the truth about him. I wished I hadn’t discovered his family secrets. But even as the thoughts hit, I knew I didn’t really want those things.

I couldn’t hide from reality. I couldn’t go on being naïve. I wouldn’t be the submissive, ignorant girl he’d clearly brought me here to be, because if I was, if I caved and ignored everything he’d done to me, I’d lose touch of the strong, independent woman I was inside. And I wasn’t willing to lose touch with her. I’d fight till my last breath to hold on to my independence.

Disappointment flashed over his features just before he looked down at the mattress. Seconds later, he stepped back from the bed and moved for the open door without looking at me again. “I’ll check in on you later. Sela should be by with food in a few minutes.”

The door clicked closed behind him, echoing like cannon fire in my ears. I wanted to be relieved he was gone. I wanted to be proud that I’d found a way to stand up to him in spite of everything else. But alone, as the fight slipped out of me, all I felt was helpless.

My eyes burned, and I blinked rapidly to hold back tears I did not want to let fall. Glancing around the room, I searched for anything to focus on besides how shitty I felt inside.

I spotted a plush couch and side chair forming a sitting area across the room, and my eyes hovered on a lamp and end table, then shifted to a bouquet of flowers on the dresser, blocking my reflection in the mirror. Heliconia, bird of paradise, orchids, and some kind of red flowers that looked like cone-shaped brushes dipped in candy-apple-red paint on long stalks stared back at me. As I took in the gorgeous arrangement, my memory skipped back to opening my eyes and seeing Luc standing in front of that splash of color, turning toward my bed as he wiped his hands on his filthy jeans, and stepping toward me.

My heart pinched, but I called myself ten kinds of stupid for the reaction, averted my gaze from the arrangement, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. A gift of persuasion, obviously. I was too smart to be swayed by exotic flowers. I was still a prisoner no matter how much he wanted me to believe otherwise, and the only thing that mattered now was getting off this damn island and as far from him as possible.

Pushing to my feet, I winced at the pain shooting through my left leg and reached for the mattress so I wouldn’t fall. Luc was right. I was weak and probably needed another day to rest from whatever the infection had done to me, but his advice was the last I wanted to listen to.

I held still until I felt steady, then slowly hobbled my way across the room. After finding the bathroom and flipping on the light, I used the facilities, ignoring my pale reflection in the mirror. I didn’t need to see I looked like hell—I felt it—but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I found a toothbrush in the drawer, brushed my teeth, ran water over my face, then tied my unruly curls in a knot on the top of my head.

Limping back into the bedroom, I located the closet and pulled the doors open. A handful of sundresses hung from the hangers, and a collection of shoes, ranging from flip-flops to heels, were arranged on the floor. Scowling, I grabbed the closest pair of flip-flops, slammed the closet closed on the sexy dresses he clearly wanted me to wear, then limped to the dresser. Thankfully, the drawers were filled with basic necessities I didn’t mind wearing—tanks, cotton shorts, and undergarments.

My stomach tightened with a mixture of anger and disgust and, yes, even pleasure, at the dainty lace bras and panties in the top drawer. Picking the least sexy ones I could find, I slammed the drawer shut and found a red cotton tank and black shorts.

I really needed a shower, but I needed out of this room more, so I ignored how sticky my skin felt and told myself if I stank, even better. Maybe if I totally let myself go Luc would be anxious to get rid of me. Heck, if I played this right, he might kick me off the island himself.

That thought pushed my depression even lower, something that only made me feel worse. Grinding my teeth, I shoved my feet into the flip-flops and shuffled toward the door.

Just before I could reach for the handle, the door pushed open, and I stumbled back.

“Oh, you’re awake.” A pretty young woman with sleek blonde hair to the middle of her back smiled as she stepped around me and into the room. In her hands, she carried a tray of food. “I bet you were on your way to find this.”

She wore faded denim cutoffs, a pale pink, loose-fitting tank, and cute white slip-on sneakers. And she moved like a dancer—all long limbs and graceful motions. Her slight accent—a lot like Luc’s—echoed in the room as she leaned forward to set the tray on the low coffee table, her shiny straight hair falling over her shoulders, revealing the leopard-print tattoo I’d seen the other day, telling me exactly who she was.

My jaw instantly clenched, and the muscles in my back tightened.

“I’m Sela.” She straightened, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and smiled again. “We didn’t get to meet before. I take care of the house for Luc. Do you like your room?” She glanced over the furnishings, then looked back at me. “I decorated it myself. Well, except for the flowers. Luc brought those. Aren’t they gorgeous?”

I didn’t give a rip about the flowers anymore. Bile pushed up my throat because I did not need to know she’d decorated this room herself. The basic decency my mother had beat into me as a child, though, kept me from responding with a bitchy retort. “The room is fine,” I managed from between clenched teeth.

Her smile wobbled. She glanced down at her hands, then looked at the tray of food. “Well, I wasn’t sure what you’d feel like eating so I made you some soup and crackers. Should be light enough on your stomach. If there’s anything else you want or need, just ask. I’m here to serve.”

Her last sentence only made that sickness swirl faster in my belly. Images of those women I’d seen in that ritual in Tuscany ricocheted through my mind. Images of women with the same kinds of tattoos as this girl, sexually serving men in black capes and white bauta masks. Before I could stop it, visions of this girl serving Luc like that flashed behind my eyes.

I slammed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to picture that. Didn’t want to think of Luc at all. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stared down at the floor, unable to look at this girl a second longer.

I was jealous, and that realization only pissed me off more. I didn’t even want Luc any longer. He could fuck whomever he chose. So why did I care?

Bastard.

“I’m sure you’re still tired. I’ll, uh, just let you get back to resting.”

She stepped past me into the hall. I tried like hell not to look after her, but couldn’t stop myself from turning. She was everything I wasn’t—tall, exotic, slim in all the places I was curvy—and I could tell from the way she moved that she’d once been a model. The kind of model I’d watched fall all over Luc at those fashion parties in Rome. I hated her even more because of that. Hated her even though I told myself that kind of hate wasn’t worth the energy.

When she turned the corner and disappeared from view, I glanced back at the food she’d left me, and my mood sank even lower. I’d read what beta kitten slaves went through—the Monarch mind-control techniques their handlers used to train them, the abuse they often suffered to mix pleasure with pain and disassociate their minds so they could let go of their inhibitions—and I knew I should feel sorry for the girl because she’d probably been through a hell I couldn’t imagine. But I didn’t want to feel anything for her. I didn’t even want to see her. All she did was make me think of Luc.

Needing air, I headed for the sliding door in my room that opened to a wide deck. I didn’t have any hope I’d find a way to escape today, but with Luc preoccupied, I could use the time to explore and come up with a plan.

Warm, humid air surrounded me as I stepped outside and turned to my right. The deck spread out across one whole side of the house, and several steps dropped down to the pool and white-sand beach edged by towering palms.

A light breeze blew past my face, and I breathed it in, unable to ignore the beauty of the island. Luc’s house was clearly custom-built, and the view from the lounge chairs littered across the deck was breathtaking. If he’d brought me here for a romantic weekend, for a vacation, for any reason other than the one he’d dragged me here for, I’d think differently about this place. As it was, all I could see was miles of water that might as well be prison bars.

I turned away from the beach and moved around the house. Chopping sounds echoed from the jungle, telling me Luc was somewhere further inland. Steering clear of him, I headed down the steps and across the wide yard toward an out building with two wide double doors pushed open.

I hesitated outside, but when I didn’t hear any movement from within, I stepped into the space. It was some kind of equipment building. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I recognized tools hanging from hooks on the walls. A riding lawnmower sat against the back of the space. I eyed a pitchfork and considered how I could use it as a weapon if need be.

Disgust rolled through my belly at just the thought, because I knew I’d never be able to do something like that. I turned out of the building.

And slammed smack into a rock-solid body.

I bounced back and hit the ground on my butt. Pain spiraled up my spine, making me wince. Looking up, I frowned, expecting to see Luc, but the person blocking my exit wasn’t nearly as tall as Luc. With the sun at his back, all I could see was the shadowed shape of him, and in a rush, my memories raced back to the man who’d attacked me in my house in Idaho and the way he’d obstructed my exit from the bathroom just like this. My pulse went stratospheric, turning to a roar in my ears.

“Miss Natalie!” The man jerked forward and wrapped long, slender fingers around my wrist before I could react . “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.”

In seconds, I was on my feet, helped by the mystery man at my front. I gasped and pulled my hand back as soon as he released me.

He held up both hands in a non-threatening way. “I hope I didn’t scare you.” He shifted, and sunlight shone through the open door, spilling over his tanned skin and smiling face. “I’m Haych. We didn’t get to meet before. I take care of the island.”

The groundskeeper. I swiped at the dirt on my legs, remembering what Luc had said about the man, which, granted, hadn’t been much.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” I stepped back, wary and feeling stupid that I was so wary, but I had Luc to thank for that too.

Haych’s smile wobbled. He quickly crossed the dirt floor and reached for a rake from a hook on the wall. “I just came back to get this. We have quite a few downed trees from the storm. Already broke one of these.”

He turned back to me, then stopped a few feet away and tipped his head. And with the sunlight sliding over him, I saw that he was both sweaty and dirt-streaked, but also quite attractive with an angular face, dark hair and eyes, and a toned body from hours spent working outside. A lot like the men who worked on my stepfather’s ranch back in Montana. In fact, before I’d gone to New York, he was the kind of guy I’d probably have dated.

“Were you looking for Mister Luc?” Haych asked.

The sound of Luc’s name snapped my attention back to the reason I was stuck here, and my spine stiffened. “No. I’m not looking for him at all. I was just…going for a walk.”

Haych chuckled. I sensed he knew something about me I didn’t want him to know. Instinctively, I shifted my left hand to my back, hiding that hideous tattoo on my finger.

He shook his head and stepped past me, out into the sunlight. “Well, Mister Luc will be looking for me if I don’t get back soon. Nice to meet you, Miss Natalie.”

I moved out of the building and watched Haych head away from the house until he disappeared in the jungle. I didn’t trust anyone on this island, not the kitten in the house or this man out here in the trees, and I absolutely did not trust Luc to tell them the truth about who I was or why I was really here.

When the last of the brush settled in his wake and I could no longer see him, I turned toward the beach, intent on exploring as much as I could before exhaustion got the best of me. The sun was hot and the air humid, but the farther I moved from the main house, the better I felt. At least out here, I wasn’t a caged animal, and though the water around this island was still a prison of sorts, I couldn’t deny it was pretty.

I spotted a long dock that ran at least fifty yards out into the water, but there were no boats tied to it. Continuing on my way, I stayed on the grass that edged the sand. Farther down the beach and set back from the water, I came across two cottages, both smaller than Luc’s main house, but built in the same Balinese architectural style, both just as stylish as his.

Unfortunately, I didn’t make it very far before fatigue pulled at me. Slowing my steps, I stared at the cottages, remembering what Luc had said. One had to belong to Haych and the other to Sela. I should be relieved to see for myself that the kitten had her own place, but for some insane reason, just staring at the cute little building Luc had built for her only made me feel worse.

Turning away from the cottages, I wandered out to the stretch of white sand. More than anything, I wanted to keep searching for a way out of this nightmare, but my body was quickly telling me today wasn’t the day for that kind of adventure. I sank down to sit in the shade of a palm tree, wrapped my arms around my legs as I dug my toes into the sand, and stared at the waves rolling against the shore.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep, but it hadn’t been a restful sleep. It had been filled with images and dreams that made no sense and left me feeling more isolated than before.

I twirled on a checkered dance floor, in the arms of a man wearing a black tux and matching mask that covered all but his sensuous mouth. My purple gown swayed behind me, but I barely noticed. Nor did I pay much attention to the masked couples around us. I was too focused on the man in my arms. On his mesmerizing, one-of-a-kind gray eyes with that defect on the left side I absolutely adored because it made him him, on his broad shoulders, on the way he smelled—like jasmine and musk and rum—and the way I was the only thing he could see.

But the dream had shifted before I was ready. Suddenly, I was alone in a dark and ominous forest, still wearing my gauzy purple dress but now surrounded by a menacing, creeping fog coming toward me from every angle. I called out for help, again and again, knowing the man in the tux was somewhere close, but I couldn’t find him. And with every second the fog rolled closer, I grew more afraid, knowing if it reached me, I was doomed.

And then I felt myself being plucked from the ground, lifted in the air, above the trees where the fog couldn’t touch me. I fought the hold. Cried out. Tried to break free. Couldn’t. Something warm surrounded me, closed me in from every side, and slowly, I realized it was a cocoon. Keeping me safe. Protecting me from the outside dangers.

I relaxed. Snuggled in. Reveled in the knowledge the evil fog couldn’t reach me here. Yet lurking in the distance, outside the shielding walls around me, I sensed a growing light, luring me forward. Begging me to break free and follow. Toward what end, I couldn’t see.

I awoke in a breathless sweat. Rolling to my side, I half expected to see Luc beside me in the sand, but when I sat up, I realized I was no longer on the beach, but back in my bedroom suite. Early morning light slanted through the wide windows, shining over the foot of my bed, the sitting area of my room, and the flowers on the dresser. And as I sat there, trying to figure out how and when I’d made it back to Luc’s house, I watched a wilting red petal break free of its flower and float to the hard, cold surface of the dresser.

A sense of loss swept through me. One I didn’t expect or understand. My gaze drifted down to my hand resting against the comforter, and I spotted the letters tattooed into my skin. But instead of the quick rush of anger, pain lanced my chest, and I thought of Luc. Not the Luc who’d trapped me on this island, but the one who’d awoken me with coffee in Rome. The one who’d pushed the limit of my desires in Venice. The one who’d begged me never to leave him in Tuscany. And before I could stop myself, I wondered where that man was right this minute. Whether he was asleep or awake. If he was alone or if another on this island warmed his bed.

I flopped back into the pillows and stared up at the beamed ceiling, feeling that hole inside me open wider. I’d known love wasn’t real. I’d known it was a myth, but I’d let myself be fooled by a handsome face, by an empty promise, by meaningless words. And that was what hurt the most. Not that Luc had trapped me here. Not that he’d etched these letters into my skin. But that I’d fallen for him when I’d known there was no such thing as happily ever after.

Tears I didn’t want to shed burned my eyes and tickled my nose. Pulling the covers up to my chin, I rolled to my side, away from the light, away from the flowers Luc had left for me, away from reality and into myself where I knew I’d be safe. Into the cocoon I’d created for myself so many years before.

Love was an illusion. The truth had been unmasked. And I had no one to blame for my stupid gullibility but myself.

I just didn’t know how to ignore the voice growing louder in the back of my mind. The one telling me the real threat wasn’t from Luc. That it wasn’t from anything tangible lurking beyond these walls or waiting past the waters surrounding this island.

The real threat lived in me. Deep inside. In a dark corner of my heart I’d always been too afraid to face.