^“There you are,” I say when Kit finally emerges from her room the next day, moving like a woman on a mission. “We need to talk.”

I set aside the sheaf of investment documents that I’ve been poring over and turn my full attention to Kit instead.

She pauses, halfway to the front door. Then she turns and looks at me, and I’m taken aback. Her eyes are nose are red and swollen. Her cheeks are flushed. It’s obvious that she’s been crying.

On top of that, her usual pulled-together grace is gone. She’s wearing an oversized striped sweater and leggings, her hair in a bedraggled ponytail. Personally, she can walk about in a paper bag if she wants, but Kit’s usually so hyper-conscious about that kind of thing.

“I need you to drive me somewhere,” she says, her voice hoarse.

She’s clutching her purse for dear life, and I can see the edge of a white envelope sticking out of it.

“Yeah, all right,” I say. “Where?”

“Allsley’s End,” she says. A slummy part of town, all strip clubs and sailor bars. Somewhere a girl like Kit certainly has no business going.

“What? Why?” I ask, standing.

She looks so exhausted and miserable, I almost walk over and put my arms around her. Except I think about her reaction last night, about her cryptic accusations, and I hold myself back instead.

“Is there any chance we can do this without you asking me any questions?” she says, pressing her fingertips to her temple. “If not, I’ll take a cab instead. I just don’t want to involve an outsider if I can help it.”

I blow out a breath and tuck my dress shirt back into my slacks. I’ve already been to the office today, while Kit was hiding out in her room.

“Fine,” I agree. “But only because you seem like you’re about to fall apart or something.”

She doesn’t say anything.

I grab my keys and get my shoes on, then lead her downstairs to the car. Kit’s just silent, unyielding. I can feel her hurting, but she doesn’t seem interested in divulging her secrets.

Has that ever stopped me, though?

“I wish you’d talk to me,” I say when we’re halfway to Allsley’s End and she still hasn’t uttered a peep.

Kit looks at me.

“I can’t,” she says, then looks away.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” I ask.

I can see a flash of ugly humor on her face.

“Because. I’m selfish. I don’t want anyone to know. And…” she pauses, shaking her head. “Because I like the way we’ve been getting along, lately.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, baffled.

“It means, Prince Alasdair, that if I tell you, you won’t feel the same way about me. I know that there can’t be anything real between us, but I’ve enjoyed… whatever has been. This secret…” She sucks in a breath and blows it out. “If it comes out, I’ll have to go back to the States or something. My reputation will be so ruined that I’ll be radioactive. No one will stand with me.”

“I will.”

She looks at me, then shakes her head.

“You won’t. You don’t understand.”

“So make me understand,” I say, growing frustrated.

“I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“Fine, then. I won’t. It’s my burden, so it’s my secret to keep. Take this right,” she says, pointing.

I follow her directions for a couple minutes, irritation roiling in my gut. We pull onto a block that’s dominated by a squat gray brick building, no windows and just one door that I can see. A flickering neon sign hangs over that lone door, and I start to get a bad feeling about it all.

“Here. Stop here,” she says. “I’m going right in and out, less than five minutes. Wait for me here.”

“The Pink Pony?” I ask, staring at the sign of the building she’s about to enter. “What kind of low rent fucking strip club are you going into, and why?”

Before she can answer, the drab aluminum door opens. And what do you know, out steps Charles, his collar turned up against the cooling evening weather.

“Jesus, Kit. Are you kidding with this?” I ask.

“Please, Rex. Please, please. Just stay here.”

She stares at me for a long moment until I sigh and lean back in my seat, the only sign of assent she’s going to get. Kit opens the door and jumps out of the car. I watch her go, curiosity eating at me.

She pulls the plain white envelope from her purse and hands it to Charles. He rips it open, gives her a skeptical look, then shoves it into an inner pocket of his coat.

Then he says something that makes Kit’s face crumple. He points a finger in her face, and she shakes her head and throws her hands up.

He’s shaking her down a second time, it seems obvious enough. That’s how blackmail works, isn’t it?

Finally she gets back in the car and Charles goes on his merry fucking way. Me, I’m busy trying to figure if Kit will be mad when I hire some thugs to break that jackass’s fucking legs.

We’re both quiet the whole way home. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kit so unhappy, and it makes me want to rip down brick buildings with my bare hands.

I want to fix it, so fucking bad. Why won’t she let me help her, god damn it?

Then, because she doesn’t feel about you the way you feel about her, mate.

That hits me like a load of bricks. I haven’t spent a lot of time considering my swiftly-growing feelings for Kit. But I’ve considered her own feelings even less. It literally hasn’t occurred to me that she might not return my… affections, or whatever.

We are both brooding by the time we get back to the flat. I assume Kit’s going to vanish back to her room, but she surprises me.

“Do you think we could just lie together for a little while?” she asks, not quite able to meet my gaze. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

She’s absolutely fucking killing me. Especially when I see a tear roll down her cheek. I’d pretty much do anything for her right now, probably kill a puppy with my bare hands if she asked me to.

I’m fucked. I am really, really fucked.

I don’t say any of that, though. I take her hand and lead her to my bed. We kick our shoes off and crawl onto the bed. We both lie down and I tuck her against my body, pulling the covers over us both.

I struggle to find the right thing to say, the magic words that will make her open up to me. Kit’s still crying, though she’s silent about it.

I brush a lock of hair back and press my lips to her neck. She shivers.

Killing. Me.

“Just tell me, Kit. I can help you if you tell me. I promise, I won’t be upset.”

“I can’t,” she whispers.

“Why not?”

“Because you won’t look at me the same anymore, Rex. I… I like the way you look at me,” she says, her voice breaking.

I don’t know what to say to that.

“Just hold me, Rex,” she pleads.

And I do.

I hold her, without asking any more than that. No questions, no demands, no discussion of what will come tomorrow.

And when she turns to me in the middle of the night, tears on her face, and presses her lips to mine…

I kiss her, hard and hungry. I strip her clothes off and explore her body with my lips and teeth and tongue, making her wet, making her moan. Her taste is incredible, the feel of her rocking her hips against my mouth, her fingers burying in my hair. The sound of her crying my name over and over, unable to control herself.

When she comes, it’s like lightning crackling through my veins, knowing I did that. I made her feel that way. I earned my name on her lips.

As she relaxes in my arms once more, her body limp from the after-effects of her pleasure, I whisper in her ear.

“You’re going to be mine, Kitten. I’m going to have all of you.”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t resist either.

Closer, I can tell I’m getting closer. Wearing her down.

It’ll have to do for now, I suppose.