When I arrive to gather up Lilah, she's changed into a different outfit. She chose a green dress, very modest and demure, and matching flats. She's put on only a pair of earrings, but with her new bob haircut she looks radiant, her tresses like silk, shimmering like a sea of oil at night. Lilah is a head turner.

Pain twists in my chest when I realize I can't show her off.

What am I doing?

I shake myself out of it and open the door for her. She slips inside, and when I follow her it takes everything I have not to pull her onto my lap. I can still taste her, still feel her heat in my hands. What I had today was only a tease, a sample. I want her nude on black silk sheets, twisted up with desire, beckoning me to throw myself on top of her. She almost writhes in the seat next to me, grinding crossed legs together.

I know how she feels. A taste of honey is worse than none at all.

"So where are we going?"

I touch my finger to my lips for silence. She huffs and scowls, prettily. I'd never tell her so, since I know how she'd react, but she's adorable when she's angry.

Legs. Long legs, shapely muscular legs. She doesn't like to show off much, but she can't hide her delicious creamy legs in a dress. Now I know what she's hiding. I want to rip that dress open and get a taste of those luscious breasts, feel her shudder under me as I…

Control yourself, Aiden.

The driver takes us up Girard. We pass the zoo, then down to the grand stairs of the art museum. I offer her a hand up and she stands, staring up at the edifice, then over at the statue of Rocky at the base of the steps.

"It's big," she says.

"I love it when you say that."

She glares at me.

"Shall we?"

"Isn't it closed?"

"Nothing is closed when you're Aiden Byrne."

I lead her up the steps, and something more than lust flares in my chest. Just looking at her makes me feel something I never feel, maybe have never felt.

Content.

As a museum staffer opens the door for us, the world falls away. I've always wondered what this would be like. I've of course visited the museum when it was open but never after hours, as easy as it would have been to arrange.

Lilah is in awe as she enters. The entrance to the museum leads to a grand staircase. I enjoy her reactions as she walks inside, wondering.

How can she be so awed by such things? Roland has a habit of inflating his finances—his ego will permit nothing less—but she should have at least been to a museum. The Philadelphia Museum of Art is nothing to sneeze at, but the Met dwarfs it, and as far as I know, Lilah was raised in New York. Roland has lived there for twenty years, and it was always there that I visited.

"I haven’t been to a museum since I was a child," she breathes, her voice so innocent I wonder if she meant to say anything at all. “Just field trips.”

"I'm a friend to this institution. Let me show you around."

I offer my arm. Lilah peers at me through her newly thickened lashes and takes it gingerly, as if I hadn't just made her come on command a few hours earlier.

I want to take her to every museum in the world twice, if that's what she wants.

She lights up at the exhibits, stopping to stare, walking in circles around the sculptures. I let go of her arm and watch her.

I've never felt this way before.

This is all so beautiful. The empty museum is profoundly quiet, making Aiden’s presence all the more intense as he escorts me through the exhibits. I can feel him everywhere around me, like I can feel the light of the sun even when I'm not looking at it.

"There's something upstairs you should really see," he says, drawing me away from a painting.

In the middle of the museum is a grand staircase, almost comically huge with a gleaming bronze statue on the second landing. Aiden leads me all the way up, and I stop to stare at the tapestries. Is this what he meant? They reach floor to ceiling, twenty feet wide and even taller. Aiden waits patiently as I study the plaques on the wall beside them.

"This way," he says, taking my arm.

The air in here is different. It's darker in this wing. I come to a stop, staring open mouthed. It's a castle. There's a castle in the museum. I step up to the rope and stare at the reconstruction of a real medieval castle gate. Aiden leads me through the rest, the other rooms. There's not just the castle. The architectural collection has gathered reconstructed rooms and furniture from all sorts of historical places and periods.

By the time we step back out to the grand staircase, the skylight has almost gone dark.

"Walk in the sculpture garden?"

"We should get home…back to the apartment, shoudn't we?"

I wince at my slip. Aiden doesn't notice the way my breath caught or the way I stumbled over the words. Does he? That flickering of his eyes—was that real or in my head.

"Now you should have a better picture of how the gala will be laid out," he says, looking around. "It'll be the event of the year."

I lean on the stone railing and look out over the stairs. "Maria said there wasn't going to be a gala until his morning."

"I tend to do things spur of the moment," he says, shrugging. "Keeps people on their toes. Speaking of which. I have a country house. I'm tired of the city, and I can work remotely. We're leaving on Saturday morning. The kids are out of school, until the summer session starts so that's no trouble. You'll like it."

"Is that appropriate? My going with you to your vacation retreat?"

"I still need my assistant, don't I?"

I give him a flat look.

"You're not really mad at me," he says, running his knuckles down my back.

"You haven't apologized."

Aiden smiles. "You're going to make this a challenge, aren't you?"

I turn to face him. "If I didn't, would you bother?"

With that I head down the stairs.

Sometimes she makes me wonder if it's an act. Like now. Delilah flows down the great stair, her movements precise and delicate, a graceful sway of her hips as her outstretched hand skims over the balustrade without touching. I give her a momentary head start before I follow her down. For all my internal attempts at poetry about her hips, I can't stop watching her ass. When she gets to the bottom she gives me an enigmatic look until I join her.

Lilah is impressed. She enjoyed her time. She's still hard to read. Far too many perverse thoughts enter my head. I have her alone here. I wonder if anyone has ever fucked on the museum floor. As much as she stokes the fires of raw animal lust, I want my first time with her to be more than special. I'll be her first. She's a virgin. I never knew that would excite me until I realized I can savor the look on her face as she takes me in, taste her lips and swallow her cry as she's taken for the first time.

All these emotions are too intense, fire crawling under my skin. I wonder if she realizes the effect she has on men, that she's a walking sex bomb. I want to make her explode. My fingers and mouth weren't enough, even if the taste of her still lingers. I want to swallow her moans and feel her gripping my cock as we finish together. Feel her nails dig into my back, her teeth on my throat, the tight grip of her strong legs around my waist as she urges me in deeper, harder.

"What are you staring at?"

I flick a lock of her hair back from her cheek. "The prettiest girl in the world. Shall we?"

The car rolls up, and she lowers herself inside, leaning her hand on mine. The soft weight of her palm is electric, and I fight the urge to lift her knuckles to my lips and kiss. I've never wanted every part of a woman's body the way I want hers. I satisfy myself by running my thumb over his hand instead. I hold her hand a little too long, and she coughs and snatches it away, tucking her hands in her lap.

Just being close to her is an enormous temptation. She slouches in the seat, legs crossed, just barely turned toward me. I don't know if it's intentional or not, but her pose pulls her clothing tight across her body, displaying the ample swell of her chest. It twists just right to display a hint of cleavage. I want to yank her into my lap, tear that dress open, and bury my face in her chest, lick and suck and taste until she begs me for more.

"I'm tired." She yawns.

"Rough sleep last night?"

She played with herself thinking of me. I can almost smell it on her. I just know it, she knows it, and I think she knows I know it. She's watching me now, filling up her memory banks so she can do it again. I like that. One climax wasn't enough. She won't be able to sleep until she gets off to me again.

"The museum is incredible. I can't believe they close it for parties."

"They don't, exactly. It's after hours, like our little visit. I've asked all the guests to donate to the museum. It'll benefit the institution enormously.”

Her sleepy expression seems interested enough, but I can't tell if she's thinking about institutional funding or the feeling of my raging erection against her backside. Everything is new to her, and it excites me in a way I haven't felt in too long.

It makes rockets and urban redevelopment and agricultural research seem…unimportant.

"Tell me about this country house," she says.

"You'll love it. The estate is beautiful. I don't want to say much more."

"Why's that?"

"I enjoy seeing the world through your eyes."

She blinks a few times, her lips curling absently into a half-smile before she remembers she's trying to make me think she's still angry. "I've never been 'out in the country.'” She shrugs. "It'll be new for me."

"I know you're not old enough to be experienced, but what have you done?"

She looks away, wringing her hands. "College was the first time I've been away from home. The town is small, but I didn't see much of it. Dad rented a house and pays a minder to walk me back and forth to and from class."

"No boys?"

She turns up her nose, looking uncharacteristically haughty. It’s cute, even if it doesn’t suit her. "Pawing, grasping sex hounds? No, thanks."

"You don't seem to mind my grasping," I say, stroking her arm.

She pulls it away. "That's different. You know what you're doing."

Lilah turns redder with every syllable, and it makes her even prettier.

"You’re going to love the cabin.”

She snorts. "You're just trying to spoil me."

"You look in need of spoiling."

"My father has always been critical of you," she says. "I overhear him a lot."

"I know, he says my head is in the clouds."

She coughs.

I give her a questioning look.

"He says it's so far in the clouds it might as well be up your ass."

I laugh, and Lilah giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry."

I inch closer to her on the seat. "Sorry for what? That you said ass?"

She fights a smile. "No. I probably shouldn't shatter your illusions."

"What illusions?"

"That my father is a decent man. You respect him."

She watches my reaction, making it hard to keep my inner thoughts hidden. I know my face has clouded anyway. She reads it and takes my big hand in both of hers, silky fingers caressing my palm.

"I'm worried what would happen if he found out about us."

"Us?"

"I'm still mad," she adds quickly. "I don't want you to get hurt."

I move closer until we're hip to hip. "You don't need to take care of me. I want to take care of you."

"You say that," she says as her hand settles on my chest, over my beating heart. "But I think you're hurting about something. I can see it when you believe no one is looking."

I'm about to kiss her when the car stops and she turns away, leaving only a ghostly taste on my lips.

I step out of the car, fire in my veins. Aiden follows, and the air is electric between us. I hit a nerve there, I can feel it. I rush inside, afraid if the gap closes too much I'll throw myself at him.

I'm still mad, I tell myself.

In the elevator, it's worse. His presence fills the air until it's hard to breath and my limbs become heavy. My finger twitches toward the stop button. I've never felt like this before about anyone. The ding of arrival shocks me, coming faster than I anticipated.

The moment is over in the cool air of the hall. Aiden unlocks his door and ushers me inside.

Maria rises from the couch.

"The children are in their rooms," she announces.

"You may go," Aiden says, dismissively. "Appreciated."

She nods curtly and cuts between us as she strides out, pointedly not looking at me. The door swings shut behind her and leaves us standing alone.

"Not much for you to do now," he says. "Why don't you grab a book, relax? You like to read, right? We haven't really had dinner. I'll whip something up."

He takes a half-step closer to me before turning for the kitchen. I run my fingers over the spines of his library, but I'd much rather be running them over him. I can feel him wherever he stands, his presence a steady pressure between my shoulder blades.

The collection is full of variety—economics textbooks, fiction, and a whole shelf of UFO and woo-woo occulty books. One catches my attention. Species of the Undead.

It's full of gruesome drawings. I'm not in the mood for spooky, so I put it back and grab The UFO Encyclopedia instead.

A warm, inviting scent rises from the kitchen. Aiden brings a tray to the coffee table with two bowls of soup.

"Lobster bisque. Don't get excited—I just heated it up. It's frozen, from one of my restaurants."

That sounds just about perfect. I prop the book open in my lap while I eat.

"Aliens," Aiden remarks, spreading his arm along the back of the couch behind my head.

"When I was a little girl I loved this stuff. Scared the hell out of me," I say with a shrug. "Reading about alien abductions. I was terrified I'd wake up in a room full of little gray men waiting to dissect me."

Aiden smirks. "Well, you're safe here. I installed anti-gray-alien security systems when I built the place."

"You read about this stuff too?"

"I'm the eccentric billionaire with the space obsession. It'd be odd if I wasn't fascinated by aliens, wouldn't it?"

I snort and gag at a mouthful of hot soup trying to go up my nose. I cough a few times as Aiden rubs my back.

"What's so fascinating about space?" I ask.

"Making my mark, I suppose. I'll be remembered forever if I'm involved with manned flight to Mars. It's more than that, though. You know, when I was a kid, my father bought me a special gift for my birthday. I was the proud owner of a ticket for the first commercial spaceflight."

I laugh. "Reminds me of those ads where they say they sell real estate on Europa or something."

Aiden leans his head against his shoulder. "I still have the ticket. I packed a bag that night. I have that, too. Too bad nothing in it will fit anymore."

"That's cute."

"The airline that sold them went belly up years ago. It's worthless now. I still look at it from time to time, remembering the awe I felt. So I'm going to bring that wonder to people, for real. We're developing a space plane."

"Space plane?"

"Like the space shuttle."

"I hope it's a little safer."

He frowns. "It will be. I could bore you with the details of why the shuttle had so many accidents but—"

"It's not boring. Tell me."

So begins a long, detailed discussion of O-rings and ceramic tiles. By the time he's done it's well into the night, the soup is cold, and I'm on his lap, my head pillowed on his shoulder.

I steal a kiss. A thief in the night, I touch my lips to hers. There will always be lust in it, but the heat of her lips and the soft sigh she offers in response before she wakes is more than erotic. It's like touching an angel. She fell asleep on my lap, watching the flames dance. She was interested the entire time, but after a while it just felt right to stop talking. The crackle of burning logs and warmth put her to sleep.

Even now she only stirs. One arm lies lazily draped across my stomach as her head moves closer to my neck, rising and falling with my breath. I know she's awake, but I don't call her out on the deception. Instead I toy with her hair, gently curling it around my fingers.

At last, she lifts her head and shakes loose. "Early morning," she says, yawning. "See you then."

She stands. I never miss an opportunity to watch her leave. A flash of her blue eyes watching me, and she's gone.

I sprawl across the couch and let out a slow breath. I rest my head on my palm and fight the unease coiling in my stomach. This is how it starts. The crawling fear digging its way out, like a long-forgotten parasite emerging from secret cocoon. Before I begin to dwell I rise from the sofa and go up to my room.

The lights flick on when I enter, then adjust to my specifications, cutting out blue wavelengths. Everything in the apartment adjusts automatically to avoid interfering with sleep cycles. It's not for my benefit, it’s for the boys. Sleep and I have long been bitter rivals.

I run on the treadmill, I lift and use the weight machines until I work up a lathery sweat, all trying to force my body to accept that it needs sleep. Under the hot shower all I can think of is Lilah and the desire to devour her. I want her under the spray with me, hot water skimming over her body, wet skin gliding against mine as I press her to the cold tiles and make love to her in the steam.

When I emerge into the cool, dry air of my room the lights come up again, dimmer now as even the house itself urges me to sleep. The rooms are not large; I've never been partial to the ostentation of large spaces. The bedroom feels emptier now than ever as I sink into a cold bed that's too large, too empty, and too without Deliah.

I wake well before anyone else. My mental rebellion against sleep burns at both ends, and I snap awake before sunup. I stand from the bed and begin a series of stretches. Today feels like a good day for a swim. I pull on a pair of trunks and pad over to the glass doors, ready to head out through the garden to the pool.

My breath catches when I find Delilah sitting in the garden, arms resting on her tucked-up legs. She stares out over the pool, lost in thought. Frowning, I wish I had a paint, easel, and canvas. The nymph at rest, I'd call it. I don't want to disturb her. It feels wrong.

I do it anyway.

She hears the soft sound of my bare feet on grass and looks up at me.

"Morning," she says.

I sit down a foot or two away, facing her. "Something is bothering you."

She shrugs her delicate shoulders and glumly rests her head on her arm.

"I'm just overwhelmed, I think."

It takes me a long time to think of something to say. I prefer to watch her. Silky legs, perfectly sculpted arms, the face of a woodland goddess. I rise to my feet. "Another day begins. I should find you some real work. Why don't I start you on a tour of the different departments? Find what interests you, and you can settle in."

She stands next to me. "I thought I could be your assistant. Learn from the master." She savors the last word, peeking over her glasses.

"So you want to be around me all day?"

"Maybe," she says, casually.

"You have grass on your knees."

She glances down and giggles. "I'll go get ready."

Leaning against the tree, I watch her walk off toward her bedroom. The boy's rooms light up, and I sigh, heading back to mine to dress.

This is the first time in an eternity I haven't felt the urge to rush out of the house. Quite the opposite.

Today I go casual. I tell myself it's for comfort. It's because I like the way Lilah looks at my arms. I feel stronger when she notices. She emerges with her hair bound at the nape of her neck, wearing a pale green sundress that bares her shoulders. I stare at her approach until I smell the eggs starting to burn and turn back to cooking.

The boys give me annoyed looks at the overcooked eggs, and Lilah smiles.

"Pick something," Aiden says.

"Pick what?"

"Come close," he says.

I tuck myself against him, and he slips his arm around my waist. Some part of me knows what he's about to do, and I brace myself. It doesn't help. I cry out anyway as the floor turns to glass and I find myself staring past my feet at a two-hundred-foot drop straight down.

It flickers, and then it's a screen. Camera views.

"These are all the different projects headquartered here in the tower, plus all the others. I'll give you a teleconferencing room if you'd like to speak with one of the offsite teams."

Tentatively—I can still see past the feeds to the enormous drop—I step across the screen and look down. "What's this?"

"I thought you might find that interesting. Agrosciences. If we can make it grow on Mars, we can make it grow on Earth."

"Is that here?"

"Would you like to find out?"

"Another day. Where's the space stuff?"

He smiles. "I knew you’d ask. Maria!"

Maria, real assistant, strides into the room.

"Follow me," she says in a flat monotone.

The floor turns black after a brief flicker of transparency, and my heart slows town by ten beats per minute or so. I glance back at Aiden, my frustration at his playing tricks with his fancy floor melting.

Maria looks at me only briefly, the way she might look at something she peeled off her shoe. Her tone turns to suppressed exasperation. "This way. Time for the grand tour."

What’s her problem?