Once Upon a Billionaire

Chapter Twelve

The flight back to New York was interminably long. Griffin spent most of it on phone calls. First were the cancellations of the rest of his Bellissime appointments. He was scheduled to stay in the country for at least another week, and had to make his excuses to everyone, most of all his mother. Then there were calls to Kip to arrange his travel home, a car to pick him up, and a million other things that seemed to pile up everywhere he turned.

How had Maylee managed to keep it all straight? He found her Post-it notes stuck to his laptop, and grew frustrated all over again.

She hadn’t trusted him in the slightest. That irritated him and wounded his pride. He’d been at her side every moment of the trip. When did she think he’d have time to go philandering about on her? Hadn’t he let her wear his family’s jewelry? Didn’t she realize what a privilege that was?

He’d give her a day or two to let her emotions calm down, he decided, and then he’d talk to her. Once she realized how foolish she was being, she’d return to him and he’d take her to bed. Then, she’d feel silly she ever doubted him.

Griffin slept on the plane, pleased with his plans. He returned to his townhouse, greeted a rather spotty Kip, and waited for Maylee to contact him.

A few days later, however, he hadn’t heard from her, and he was rather concerned. Was she not aware that he’d followed her home from Bellissime? He searched for her phone number, but it was nowhere to be found. Blast, that was rather irritating.

So he texted Hunter. Tell your assistant to call me. It’s important.

A few minutes later, he picked up the phone. “Maylee?”

“Hello, dick.” That was not Maylee.

“Gretchen,” Griffin greeted, his lip curling with dislike. “Why are you calling me?”

“You told Hunter to have his assistant call. Looky there, we’re on the phone. Magic, right?”

“Where’s Maylee?”

“She quit.”

“What do you mean, she quit?”

“I mean, she quit, you asshole. She just emailed me and asked me to forward her last check to her apartment. Said she couldn’t work for Hunter anymore. What did you do to her, you prick?”

“You really should quit calling me names—”

“You really should stop being such a total dickbag—”

He hung up on her. Griffin stared at the phone for a minute, and then picked it up to call back.

“Hello,” Gretchen said in a sweet voice.

“Just give me Maylee’s address. I’ll go talk to her myself.”

“I want to know what you did to her first. Were you mean to her?”

He sighed. “I was not.”

“Really? Cause I don’t believe that.”

“All right, I was mean to her in the beginning—”

“That I believe—”

“—but then we grew to like each other.” How did Hunter ever get a word in edgewise?

“That I don’t know that I believe,” Gretchen said. “It would take a lot to make that nice girl quit, but you managed to do so in the space of a single trip. I mean, do you know how often Hunter snarls at her? And she just sucks it up and takes it. But then here you come in, and we find Maylee’s packed up and run off.”

I’m a Meriweather. We don’t run and hide from our troubles. You can be as mean to me as you want, Mr. Griffin, but I’m going to do my job to the best of my ability, no matter how nasty you are.

“If you’re trying to make me feel guilty, you cannot possibly make me feel worse than I already do.”

“What if I told you that she’d called me up, bawling her eyes out?”

His breath caught in his throat. “She did?” His poor, sweet, sunny Maylee must have been so hurt. He felt like such a royal ass.

“Well, no. I was just curious what you’d say if I told you that.”

He hung up on Gretchen again.

A moment later, his phone buzzed with an incoming text. Maylee’s address is here. She listed the address and followed it with a YOU’RE WELCOME.

It killed him to type thank you, but he did anyhow.

Maylee’s building was repugnant. Griffin frowned to himself as he headed up the steps, eyeing the tinfoil in several of the windows. Air conditioners dripped condensation from above, leaving trails on the brick and making the entire place look as if it were weeping. He didn’t blame it. The building was a hovel.

He knocked on Maylee’s door, and there was no answer. Concerned, he headed down to the first floor and looked for the apartment of the landlord. He found one door that was less beat up than the others, took a guess, and knocked.

A dirty man in an equally dirty undershirt glared at him. “What do you want?”

It took everything he had not to hold a handkerchief to his nose in disgust. “I’m looking for Miss Meriweather.”

“She left.”

“What do you mean, she left?”

“She moved out.”

Frustration made Griffin’s nostrils flare. “Are you lying to me?”

The man crossed his arms and glared back at Griffin. “You calling me a liar?”

He was, actually. But he wasn’t going to get anywhere accusing this man. So he pulled out his wallet and opened it . . . and frowned because it was empty. Goddamn it. “Wait right here,” he told the man.

Ten minutes later, he’d borrowed cash from his driver and returned to the landlord’s door. He peeled several twenties off the stack and held them out to the man. “I want to see her apartment.”

The man regarded him as if he were a dirty pervert, and for a moment, he felt like one. But he thought of the newspaper she’d left behind, and the clues it had offered him. Perhaps she’d left other things as well. Perhaps this man was lying to him because Maylee had asked him to.

He had to know.

So he followed the sleazy landlord to the back of the building and watched as the man opened a rickety door with a set of keys. He pushed it open and gestured at Griffin. “Don’t make a mess in there, buddy.”

Griffin grimaced. Did he think he was going to jerk off on Maylee’s things? He made a mental note to see about buying this building. Hunter would know how real estate worked. Right now, Griffin’s main thought was getting that landlord out of here. If he would take a couple of bills and show a woman’s apartment to a stranger, Maylee wasn’t safe here.

He walked in to her apartment. It didn’t take much, considering it was one small, dirty windowless room. He was appalled at the sight of it, the cracks in the walls, the water damage in the corner of the ceiling. There was no bathroom, no closet, no nothing. A mattress lay on the floor, the only thing remaining in the room. Despite the small dankness of the place, it was clean.

He couldn’t imagine his sunny Maylee here in this pit.

“Do you want to stay here alone for a while?” the man behind him asked. “I can look the other way for the right price.”

Griffin gave the man a scathing look, ignoring his question. “She left nothing here?”

“Nothing,” he said. “She left in a hurry. Probably got fired from her job.” He snorted in derision.

Griffin’s jaw tensed with anger. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.” He turned and stalked out of the hole of her apartment, angrier than ever.

You can be as mean to me as you want, Mr. Griffin, but I’m going to do my job to the best of my ability, no matter how nasty you are.

She’d put up with everything to succeed here, and he’d somehow destroyed that—and her heart—in one fell swoop.

Angry at the world, but mostly at himself, Griffin went back to his sedan. As he got in and waved the driver to return to his townhouse, he began to text Hunter.

Tell Gretchen I’m a dick. And ask her if I can please have Maylee’s home address. Her home in . . . wherever in God’s name she would have gone back to. Arkansas? Louisiana? One of those places where they all talk like she does.

Soft, sweet, and adorable.

Griffin ran a hand down his face. He really was a fucking prat, wasn’t he?

“The Brotherhood’s going to be light one member tonight,” Reese said as he lit his cigar. “Jonathan ran off on one of his half-cocked trips again.”

Griffin frowned at his cards. He’d been waiting for Jonathan to show up so he could talk to him about their joint dig. But he found that he didn’t give much of a shit at the moment. Maylee’s missing presence was gnawing at him like an ache. He could talk about archeology any time, but now he just wanted his girlfriend back.

Was that what Maylee was to him? Griffin scowled at his hand of cards, not even seeing them. Girlfriend seemed like the wrong word. It was too frivolous, too silly for how he felt at the moment.

All he knew was that he needed Maylee, and she was gone because he’d hurt her. And he needed to fix it.

Logan eyed him from across the table, frowning. “You going to bid, Griff?”

Griffin stared at his cards, still not seeing them, and gave up. He folded and waved a hand at the table, and Cade and Reese tossed their chips in after Logan.

The basement door opened, and Griffin looked up, his heart slamming. He wanted to see Hunter tonight . . . but more than that, he wanted to see Gretchen. Maybe they would know something.

The person he’d been waiting to see walked down the stairs—Hunter. The scarred, broody billionaire shrugged off his sport coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair, and then sat down at the table.

A moment later, lighter feet thumped down the stairs. “Save me a spot, baby!”

Logan groaned. Cade grinned, and Reese kept his expression carefully neutral as his new sister-in-law, Gretchen Petty, bounded into the room and sat at the table, her voice breathless. “Sorry I’m late. I had to take a wicked piss.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Logan said in a dry voice. He shot a look at Hunter. “I wasn’t aware you were coming to every meeting from now on, Gretchen.”

“I invited her,” Hunter said, glaring back at Logan.

“You know Griff and Jonathan don’t like her here. We’re brothers first and foremost.”

“I’m fine with it,” Griffin said, speaking up. He watched Gretchen, trying not to seem too hopeful. He didn’t want her to leave, not tonight. He wanted her to stay so he could weasel information about Maylee out of her.

Gretchen noticed Griffin and beamed a too-sweet smile in his direction. “Hello, dickface.”

“Is that really necessary—” Cade began.

“It’s fine,” Griffin said in a weary voice. “I seem to be on the shit list of several females lately.”

“Oh, shit,” Reese said. He leaned over and elbowed Griffin. “What did you do? Too much pussy back in the home country?”

Griffin glared at Reese. That was a little too close to the mark.

Gretchen scooted her chair in between Reese and Hunter, deliberately ignoring the conversation. “So what are we playing? Slapjack?”

“Slapjack?” Reese gave her an incredulous look. “Are you fucking high? It’s poker!”

“We should play slapjack,” Gretchen said. “Hunter would be awesome at it. He’s got a really strong right hand. All those years of jerking off—”

“Gretchen,” Hunter said mildly, cutting her off. But his mouth twitched, and Griffin suspected he was laughing inwardly.

“What? Isn’t this how guys talk with one another? All sex and broads talk?” She winked at Hunter and reached over to stroke his thigh under the table.

At least, Griffin hoped to hell that it was his thigh.

“We’re playing poker,” Reese repeated. “Or at least, some of us are. Some of us are just folding at the start of every round.” And he scowled in Griffin’s direction.

“He’s mad at himself because he’s a dickface,” Gretchen said again.

“Isn’t it interesting that every time Gretchen shows up, she makes the entire meeting about her?” Cade’s words were teasing. He and Gretchen were old friends.

“I’m my own favorite subject,” she agreed, and Hunter put a hand around her shoulders protectively. As if that horrific female needed protecting, Griffin thought to himself. She was like a rabid animal even on her good days.

“So why is Griffin a dickface?” Logan asked.

“Other than the usual,” Reese said with a grin.

“He borrowed Hunter’s secretary for his trip, fucked her, and then fired her,” Gretchen declared.

“Goddamn it,” Griffin said, his temper finally flaring. “I didn’t fuck her, and I certainly did not fire her.”

“If you didn’t fuck her, then why are you so moody?” Logan asked.

“Blue balls,” Reese chimed in.

Griffin glared at Reese again. “Shouldn’t you be at home with your pregnant wife?”

“Brotherhood meeting tonight. Very important stuff.” He chewed on his cigar with a wink. “Plus, I’m not getting any right now. Audrey’s got morning sickness night and day. So I might as well be here.”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Cade murmured.

“Oh, fuck off,” Reese said in a cheery voice. “After we get out of here, I’m going to that pickle place she loves on the Upper West Side for her. And then I’m stopping to get her ice cream. I should be fucking sainted after all that.”

“I’m still not clear on why we’re all mad at Griffin for not fucking his assistant,” Logan said.

“Maybe she really wanted sex and Griffin denied her because he’s got a massive stick up his ass,” Gretchen mused. “Whatever it was, he made her quit and she ran back home, and now my poor sweetie doesn’t have an assistant at his office.” She gave Hunter a soft look. “I’m helping out, but we’re not getting much work done.”

“Oversharing, sweetheart,” Hunter murmured.

“You love it,” Gretchen said with a wink. And she stroked his thigh again.

“At any rate, I came here tonight to pass on a nugget of advice,” Gretchen said brightly, and her gaze narrowed back in on Griffin. “I know Maylee. I like Maylee. I hate that you hurt her. But I can see you’re not all sunshine and roses at the moment either, so I hope you’re as messed up over her leaving as she is. And I just want to say that if you like her? Go after her and show it. You’re kind of shitty at that whole ‘likability’ thing.”

“Gretchen,” Hunter murmured again.

“It’s true,” she protested. “He’s about as warm and friendly as a popsicle.”

Griffin considered this. Gretchen, in her uncouth way, had hit the nail on the head. He was terrible at showing affection. It wasn’t in his nature, and his war with his lineage and what was expected and proper for that compared to what was expected in a normal relationship didn’t mesh. She was right. He wasn’t good at this.

And maybe, for Maylee’s sake, he needed to try harder. Would it have killed him to hold her hand when she’d wanted it held? It would have meant so much to her, and he wouldn’t be in the situation he was now.

Why in the hell had he cared so much? Why did it matter what people in Bellissime thought of him? He didn’t live there anymore, didn’t want to live there anymore, so why had he panicked when she’d tried to show a little public affection?

“Well?” Gretchen challenged.

“Stunningly good advice, actually,” Griffin said. “Thank you, Gretchen.”

She blinked. “Okay, I admit, I wasn’t expecting that. But since you were a good boy and all, you get a treat.” And she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and slid it toward him.

Griffin stared at it for a long moment, and then reached out to take it in hand. He opened it slowly and stared at it. There was an address—an Arkansas one. He looked up at Gretchen’s sly face. “I could kiss you right now.”

“But you won’t,” Hunter said, and pulled his woman closer.

Gretchen just looked smug. “Go get ’er, tiger.”

Maylee woke up to wet, sloppy licks on her face from her coonhound. She rolled over on the futon, trying to get comfortable and away from Bubba’s enthusiastic tongue. “Go away, puppy.”

The dog whined and licked her arm instead.

Groaning, Maylee dragged herself out of bed. “Fine, fine. Bathroom time.” She padded across the floor of the single-wide trailer to let Bubba outside for a quick pee. The dog disappeared into the underbrush with an excited woof as soon as the door was opened, and Maylee stood on the porch, arms crossed, yawning, as she tried to wake up.

The house was silent, which meant that her younger sisters were still asleep in their room. Mama’s truck wasn’t in the driveway, so she’d gotten up early and gone out, probably to the store. It was quiet and peaceful, and there was no sound but birds chirping in the trees, the rustle of leaves, and Bubba’s snorting whuffs in the bushes as he looked for just the right spot to mark.

It was nothing like New York City.

And it troubled Maylee that she even thought about that. As much as she liked being home with her mother, sisters, and her grandparents nearby, it wasn’t quite the same. She loved having her dog close at hand, but she was noticing things she’d never paid attention to before. The rust on the skirt of the trailer, the creaky, weathered wood of the porch, the muddy, unpaved road that led to their home. The absolute poverty of the area.

She saw it through Griffin’s eyes and was ashamed. What would he think if he saw her living like this? And she hated that the thought even crossed her mind. Just because Griffin was a snob didn’t mean she had to be ashamed of her family. She wasn’t. She just . . . couldn’t help but see some of the things he’d turned his nose up at in the past. This was why he kept her a secret—she wasn’t good enough for him. No trailer girl would be right for Viscount Montagne Verdi of Bellissime.

She wiggled her bare toes and looked down at her pajamas. She refused to be messed up over a man who thought she was dirt. So why was it she couldn’t stop thinking about Griffin? Why was she so completely and totally hurt that he was ashamed of her? She’d thought he’d finally come to see her for who she was, and appreciated her help and her competence.

Instead, he’d been lining her up to pork in private while romancing a princess in public.

That was the part that hurt the worst. That she’d been falling for him, and all the while, he’d been busy making sure no one saw him with her in public. She had such a stupid, soft heart. Maylee brushed tears out of her eyes and watched Bubba circle a nearby tree. She was gullible and dumb and he’d preyed on that.

As the dog relieved himself, her mother’s truck pulled up in the driveway, and she winced at the clanking sounds the engine made as it turned off. She’d left her well-paying job in the city and now her mama wouldn’t have the extra income that Maylee sent home every month. Her mama had said it was fine, but it was money they all needed, especially if the younger girls were going to go to college in a few years. With Maylee’s retreat, that was out of reach for now—and possibly forever. She felt ashamed and defeated by that, too.

Really, she was just a big ol’ blubbering mess, wasn’t she? Maylee sighed and surreptitiously swiped at her watering eyes again, then waved at her mother as she got out of her truck. “Hi, Mama.”

Maylee’s mother had the same pale blonde corkscrew curls, though hers were more silver now, and her tan was deeper. She wore an old T-shirt and an equally old pair of jeans, and Maylee felt a twinge of unhappiness. Her family could use the money from her job so badly. Why had she let Griffin drive her out of NYC? It had been so selfish of her to move back home.

It was just that . . . she’d felt so alone and unwanted in her small, dirty apartment. She’d laid down in her bed and cried, missing—and hating—Griffin, then missing her mama, her sisters, and even her dog. It had seemed natural to come home. Now that she’d had a few days to sleep on it, though, she was mad at herself for giving up.

“I’m glad you’re up, Maylee-darlin’,” Mama called out. She juggled a paper bag of groceries. “I forgot the sausage at the store. Can you put on some jeans and run back out there for me? I need to start breakfast. Your Nana and Pepaw are coming over.”

“I will, Mama,” Maylee said, and snapped her fingers to call Bubba over. The dog trotted back to her, and the two women went inside the small trailer. Maylee went into the bathroom to change, and when she got out, she grabbed the keys to the truck and headed out for the store.

Twenty-five minutes later, she pulled back into the driveway of her home to a shiny black sedan with tinted windows in the driveway.

Her heart began to drum a frantic beat and she wasn’t sure if it was terror or excitement.

It wasn’t him . . . was it?

A short man in a sport coat leaned against the side of the sedan, smoking a cigarette. It wasn’t Griffin . . . not that she wanted to see him, anyhow. This man was short and balding, unlike her lean, scholarly, and snobby viscount. The stranger cast her a bored look as she pulled up next to him.

Maylee got out of the truck with her grocery bag and gave the man a friendly smile. “Hi, can I help you?”

He took another drag on his cigarette and gave her a dismissive look. “I’m just waiting on someone.”

She frowned, confused. “Are you lost? This is a private drive.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Wish to God we were.”

That funny feeling began to bubble in her stomach again, but she ignored it and offered her hand. “I’m Maylee.”

“Kip,” he said.

Maylee’s eyes widened. Oh, no. No, no, no. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” There was a wealth of derisiveness in his tone.

“Oh, no,” Maylee breathed, and rushed up the steps of the single wide.

When she got into the house, she tore through the small kitchen into the tiny dining room. There, sitting next to her two pajama-clad sisters, was Griffin. His hair wasn’t its normal slicked down look but a messy sort of tousle. He wore his Bellissime court regalia and one hand was wrapped in a fluffy white towel. And he peered through his glasses at what looked to be a bowl of grits set in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” Maylee exclaimed.

“Maylee,” her mother said. “Be nice. We have a guest.”

“I don’t have to be nice to him!”

Griffin got to his feet and stood despite the cramped quarters, hugging his towel-covered hand close to his chest. The sight of that made her heart flip-flop painfully. Had he somehow injured himself? Why did she care, damn it? As he stood, he adjusted his glasses with his free hand and then gave her a sharp nod. “Miss Meriweather.”

Her sisters looked over at her with wide, unblinking eyes.

Maylee handed the bag of sausage to her mother and refused to look Griffin in the face. “You need to leave, Mr. Verdi. I’m done with being your assistant.”

“This gentleman needs a burn talked, Maylee,” her mother said in a do-not-argue-with-me voice. “He came here because of that.”

Guiltily, Maylee glanced at his hand, still swathed in the towel. She couldn’t tell anything from it. How badly had he hurt it? And could she ignore a man in need, even if he was the one who broke her heart and made her feel like she was less than dirt? “All right. Come on.” She waved him forward.

“Thank you,” he began, but she shot him a scathing look and he stopped. “Right. No thanking.”

“Exactly.” Without stopping to check if he was following, Maylee went out onto the porch and sat down on the first step. A moment later, Griffin eased his body down next to her, medals and braids clinking on his ceremonial coat.

She didn’t look over at him, staring off into the distance so she could compose her thoughts. “Nice jacket,” she said, and was proud of how nonchalant her voice sounded.

“It gets me places,” he admitted.

Like into my mother’s trailer, Maylee thought but said nothing. With a long sigh, she braced herself and then turned to face him. “All right, show me the hand.”

He held out his wrapped hand to her, his gaze intent on her face.

Maylee took the bandaged hand in hers, holding it gingerly so she wouldn’t hurt him worse than he already was. “Okay,” she murmured softly. “You know how this works. Whatever you do, you can’t thank me for this.”

“Very well,” he said in a voice so soft that it made shivers go up and down her skin.

She held the thick wrappings for a moment. “Talk to me about the pain.” The first step was always to get the person talking and concentrating on telling her what was wrong.

“It’s with me day and night,” Griffin said in a low voice. “Won’t go away no matter how much I try to distract myself. And I keep saying it’s my own fault, but somehow, it doesn’t help things. All I know is that you’re the only person who can fix it for me.”

“Mmm.” Maylee gently took the wrappings and began to undo them, ignoring the flutter of her heart at his words. “What did you do?”

“I was an idiot and wasn’t paying attention to where I should have placed my hand.”

It was hard being so close to him, she realized. Maylee could smell the clean, spicy scent of his cologne, could feel the warmth of his big body next to hers, felt the heat of his gaze on her face. Her stupid body remembered his touch, though. Her nipples reacted, hardening under her bra, and she wanted to hunch her shoulders in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice. This man had been terrible to her—so why was she still attracted to him?

She pulled the last of the fabric free and was surprised to see his hand was curled into a fist. She put her fingers on his and began to gently uncurl them. “Oh, Griff, you really should relax your hand if you’ve hurt it—”

He flattened his hand and revealed pink, perfect skin.

On his palm, he’d written This hand is the property of Maylee.

She frowned down at it, then looked up at him. “I don’t understand. You’re not hurt?” Why was she so relieved? And confused?

Griffin’s face was solemn as he gazed down at her. “I’m a prat, Maylee. An unthinking prat who hurt your feelings over and over again. I should have held your hand when you asked me to, and then maybe you wouldn’t have assumed the worst when you saw those tabloids.”

She shook her head, releasing his hand as if she was the one scorched. “I don’t understand. How did you—”

“The driver explained a lot to me, and I found the magazine. It was easy to put two and two together,” Griffin said gently. “I never flirted with the princess of Saxe-Gallia. I never flirted with anyone but you. Hell, I’m not even sure I flirted with you, because I’m truly fucking rotten at it.” He raked his hand through his messy hair, ruining whatever hope of style he might have tried to accomplish with it. “I came here to ask you to come back with me, and to offer you this.” He held his hand out to her again, and she stared at the words written on his hand. “It’s yours whenever you want it.”

Maylee had a sudden vision of taking his hand and smacking him in his own face with it. She jumped off the porch step quickly, trying to distance herself from him. “You were mean to me. Constantly mean. And you made me feel like I was never good enough for you! You kept trying to change me!”

He stood, looking distinctly uncomfortable in his ceremonial jacket. “I was,” he agreed. “I was cruel to you and I shouldn’t have been. When Hunter and Gretchen sent you to me, I hated you on sight because you were everything I dislike. You were dressed poorly, talked ignorantly, and I thought I deserved better and that Hunter and Gretchen had foisted you on me to make me miserable at a time in which I couldn’t afford to have anyone but the best at my side.”

“This is not making me feel better.”

“Just listen,” he said, and there was a desperate note in his voice that made her stop. “I kept you on because I was stuck.”

“And because I could tie a bow tie.”

“That, too.” A hint of a smile flashed on his face and then he reached for his collar and tugged at it uncomfortably. “And after a few days of spending time with you, my initial dislike changed.”

“To hate?”

“No,” he said very softly. “I saw that the terrible clothes you wore hid a very large heart and a woman determined to do what was best for her family, even if it wasn’t what was best for her. And I saw a woman who was completely out of her depth but went out of her way to make everyone around her comfortable and happy, from the staff in the kitchens, to the hotel workers, to photographers and drivers. To me, when I didn’t deserve it. You were nice to everyone, Maylee. And you were genuinely delighted to be on the trip, even though I was treating you like you didn’t deserve to be there. And you took all of my abuse because you knew the money would help your family, but I think you also took it because you are a genuinely nice person, no matter how much I tried to beat it out of you.”

She said nothing, simply scuffed her shoe and stared down at it so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes.

“And no matter how much I tried to change you, that remained the same, Maylee. That you had an unfettered joy in life and all the people who surround you, and it made me realize that I needed some of that joy in my life, too. And it didn’t matter how you were dressed. Not anymore. In fact, when I kept changing your clothes and your hair, I kept feeling vaguely unsatisfied with the results, and now I know why.”

“Oh?” She shifted, arms crossed over her chest protectively. She felt a little uneasy at his words. Was he setting her up for another fall?

To her surprise, he leaned forward and touched the curls brushing her shoulders. “I love these ridiculous curls of yours, Maylee. To me, they embody everything about you—they’re a bit wild and carefree, but they’re so full of light and sunshine that you can’t help but cherish the sight of them. They’re untamed, and they should always be so.”

His hand in her hair was distracting her, as were his words. She trembled. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love your frizzy hair. I love your slow, drawling voice and how you want to go do your faith healing on everyone you meet. I love that you listen to me ramble about my digs and never tell me that I’m boring you. I love that you never ask me about my money, or if you can spend time with the royal family, and I know that it’s because those things don’t matter to you nearly as much as I do. That I’m a person to you, not just a title or a wallet. And that’s something that I’ve never been to anyone in Bellissime.” Behind his glasses, Griffin’s eyes were serious. “And that’s why I’m falling in love with you.”

And he extended his hand back out to her. This hand is the property of Maylee.

She stared at it, thinking. Then she looked up at him.

Griffin stood in front of her, utterly stiff. His collar was askew from tugging on it, and he looked incredibly uncomfortable.

She didn’t take his hand. She didn’t know if she was ready for that.

He seemed to realize this, too. Slowly, it curled up and he dropped it to his side. “It’s funny,” he said in a soft voice. “When you’re a member of the royal family, you don’t expect to have to work for anyone’s affection. It’s a given that it will automatically be granted. I’ve never had to work at convincing anyone to like me before. I . . . I’m not very good at it.” He sounded disgusted with himself. “And I wish I knew the right thing to say—or do—to convince you of my sincerity.”

For some reason, that rueful confession convinced her more than his declaration of love. Maylee looked up at him and gave him a faint smile. “Would you kiss the dog?”

“I beg your pardon?” He tilted his head, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

“My hound, Bubba. Would you kiss him to prove to me that you love me?”

He inclined his head at her, oh so gracefully. “If I must.”

She put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Bubba!”

The dog galloped out of the trailer and toward her, all flying ears, cheeks, and ropes of slobber. He stopped in front of her and she knelt to rub him with affection. “Hello, Bubba,” she cooed. “This man is going to give you a nice kiss, okay, boy?”

“He’s quite a . . . leaky fellow.”

She giggled at that. “He’s a hound. They tend to drool.”

“So I see.”

And to her surprise, he bent down and kissed the top of the dog’s head. Then, he straightened with a grimace. “I’d rather be kissing you.”

“I see that.” Lordamercy, she should be given a medal for managing to contain her laughter.

“Am I forgiven?”

“I haven’t decided. I might need you to kiss a chicken next.”

He looked resigned. “How does one even kiss a chicken?”

“Very carefully,” she said, and got to her feet, dusting her hands off on her jeans. “You’d do that for me?”

“If that’s what it takes to convince you of my earnestness, I shall kiss every bit of fowl you place in front of me.” His tone was so austere and sincere.

Her giggles escaped. “Why can’t I stay mad at you?”

“Because a man who kisses a slobbery dog simply to make his woman smile is a pathetic figure indeed?” He attempted to put a smile in his voice, but his face remained somber. “Maylee, I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings. I truly am awful at showing affection properly, especially when I’m at home and everyone expects me to act like one of the royal family, even though I’m no longer in line for the throne. It’s like I’m brainwashed into seeing nothing but how the royal family thinks things should be. But Alex broke the mold, and I can, too.” He reached out and touched her hand. “I can assure you that I never, ever encouraged Saxe-Gallia or anyone else. That was simply tabloids making up rubbish to sell papers.”

Griffin’s words were so fervent that she knew they were the truth. No matter her wounded feelings, she had to stop and think rationally. The man had grown up with a cold mother and father. How could she expect him to be wildly affectionate in a family who didn’t seem to know the meaning? Even Alex was reserved around Luke, and he was her fiancé.

Actually, she supposed that Luke and Alex were married now. Poor Luke—he’d married into a family of stiff-necked royals. Maylee smiled at that.

At her smile, Griffin seemed to relax a little. His eyes brightened. “Please tell me you don’t hate me anymore.”

“I don’t hate you anymore,” she agreed, and took his hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze.

Griffin looked a little disgruntled at that. “I rather hoped I’d be showered with kisses upon my declaration of love.”

She laughed at his disgusted tone. “I thought you royals didn’t like shows of affection?”

“I’d be willing to soldier through for your sake.”

Maylee snorted.

“Come back with me,” he said softly, and tugged her closer to him. “Let me show you my home in New York City and how dull and boring of a bachelor I am.”

“Are you a boring bachelor?”

“I am. My townhouse is full of books and dust and not a single thing to entice a woman at all.” Griffin gave her a rueful look. “And I can lure you with promises of conversation about ancient civilizations up until the early hours of the morning.”

She pretended to consider this. “Can I bring my knitting?”

“Absolutely. I would recommend you have something at hand to keep you busy while I bore you to death.”

“You’re never boring,” she said softly, and her gaze flicked to his mouth. “Not to me.”

“That’s why you’re perfect.” He pulled her in closer, his mouth angling toward hers.

Maylee pressed her fingers to his lips, stopping him before he could kiss her. “So . . . now what? I’ve forgiven you, but I left New York. It’s hard to get a job there for a girl like me.”

“You’ll come live with me,” he said immediately. “I don’t want you to work. I want you at my side every day.”

She shook her head. “And be dependent on you for everything? No.”

“Then be my equerry. My assistant. My body servant.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her at the last sentence.

She snorted again and shook her head. “You have an assistant.”

“Yes, and he’s never cut my meat for me once.” He gave her a soulful look full of pleading. “Say you’ll return with me. I can always use another assistant. I seem to recall someone telling me how incredibly helpless I was.”

“You are rather helpless,” she admitted, fingering one of the medals on his coat that had flipped over. “Do all your assistants live with you?”

“Kip does,” Griffin admitted. “My first act will be to boot him to a neighboring townhouse.”

“And me?”

“I want you in my home.”

“Until we break up? And then what do I do?” She shook her head. “It’s too risky.”

“I will pay you a hundred thousand dollars a year to be a completely terrible assistant to me. And I will sign a contract stating that if we do break up, I will grant you another hundred thousand dollars as severance pay. I don’t want you to worry about money when you’re with me.”

The money made her eyes widen, but she shook her head. “I feel like you’re trying to buy my affection.”

“If that’s the only way I can get it, then that is what I’ll take.” His arms tightened around her. “Maylee, please. Come back to me.” He wagged his eyebrows in an obvious fashion. “I have an entire bag of purloined hotel soaps and shampoos with your name on them.”

She smiled, but still hesitated.

The look in his eyes became intense. “Please. I need you.”

It was those three little words that decided her. I need you. How long had she waited for him to admit such a thing? “I’ll let you hire me . . . on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“I’m only going to be your employee until I can trust you not to break my heart again.” She gave him a small, trembling smile. “When I’m comfortable with you again, I’ll quit because I know I can trust you, and I don’t want things between us to be about money.”

“Done. All done. Whatever you want, done.”

“Then I guess you have another assistant,” she breathed, and leaned in.

He kissed her so fiercely that her toes curled, and she clung to his thick woolen coat. His tongue slicked against her own in a possessive dance, and Maylee was left gasping and breathless when he released her.

“I guess I’d better tell Mama and them that I’m moving back to New York City.”

“Good,” said Griffin, just as breathless as her. His gaze devoured her. “Very good.”

A few hours later, Maylee had kissed her Mama, her Nana, her Pepaw and her sisters, packed her small bag, and leashed Bubba, and they were heading to New York City. Griffin had agreed to let her bring her dog, even though it was clear he wasn’t sure what to do around the animal. Maylee wondered if he’d ever had a pet, and then she thought of the queen with her big, fluffy cats, and tried to picture a grimly resolute Griffin petting one, and giggled to herself all the way to the airport.

Once they were back on his jet, Kip took Bubba’s leash and sat at the front of the plane with a drink and a magazine. “I’ll be here in case you need me,” the valet said in a dry voice. “With headphones on.”

That was an odd thing to say, Maylee thought as she held Griffin’s hand and headed to the back seats on the plane. “Why would he tell us that?”

Griffin sat in one large leather seat, and then pulled her down into his lap. “He thinks we’re going to have a make-out session in the back of the plane, I suppose.” He dragged his arms around her and pulled her closer, running his hands along her back and thigh as if he couldn’t get enough of touching her.

She pulled off his glasses and tossed them into a nearby empty seat. Then, she leaned in and took Griffin’s lower lip between her teeth, biting it lightly and enjoying the shiver she felt rock through his body. “Then I suppose we shouldn’t disappoint him?”

Griffin’s groan of response was deliciously gratifying to hear. “There is a room in the back of the plane.”

“Does it have condoms?”

He groaned again. “I hope to God that it does.”

“Let’s go check it out,” she murmured against his mouth, and then slid out of his lap. She sashayed the few feet to the back of the plane and opened the door, knowing Griffin’s eyes were on her every step of the way.

The bedroom at the back of the plane was just as she remembered it. There was a full-size bed on the one side and a mirror on the wall behind it. On the other side of the small room was a desk with a chair, and a door that led to the bathroom.

She headed for the bathroom and heard Griffin shut the door to the room and lock it behind them. Inside the bathroom, there were a number of toiletries, but the thing that interested her the most was the box of condoms under the sink. It looked like the box she’d purchased in Bellissime, and she turned and held it out to Griffin. “You kept these?”

“How could I not? The driver was giving me such dirty looks for breaking your heart that I took them as a badge of shame.” He grimaced at the thought.

She laughed again. “I’m glad you feel bad about that, because I felt worse.”

He pulled her against him again and nuzzled her neck. “You should know you’re the only one for me.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to believe his words—oh, she did—but she’d been stomped on and hurt too many times by his careless words to believe him wholeheartedly. So for now, she trusted and hoped.

Maylee’s fingers stole to Griffin’s hair—soft, shining, and messy. “This is a different look for you.”

“Kip did not approve,” he murmured against her neck. “But Kip is not the one who likes to run his fingers through my hair.”

“I’m glad for that,” she said with another laugh, and scratched at his scalp.

He groaned. “Dear God, that feels good.”

She shushed him with a giggle. “You’re going to have to be quieter if you don’t want Kip listening in.”

He stiffened, shooting an anxious look back toward the front cabin. “I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable with him sitting right out there—”

She gave him a mock pout, and her hand slid down to the front of his slacks. “I grew up in a trailer. I think if anyone knows how to be quiet when making out, it’s me.”

He frowned back at her. “Who exactly were you making out with—”

“Boys,” she said. And then she kissed him to shut him up.

And he kissed her back. Oh, she loved kissing him so much. No one kissed quite like Griffin. There was an unadulterated hunger to his mouth, as if he feared everything would be ripped away in the next instant and so he had to devour her while he could. She loved that singular intensity of him and suspected he’d be like that in bed, too.

She couldn’t wait to find out. Her hand rubbed at his cock again, feeling the thick length of it under her fingers. “Now,” she murmured, stroking him when she paused. “Did you want to make out back here with your new assistant? Because she’s a pretty demanding sort.”

His eyes were glazed with passion. “Oh?”

“Very. . . .” Stroke. “Demanding . . .” Stroke.

He groaned again, this time louder, and she kissed his mouth to quiet him, pleased by the fact that her tightly controlled man was not quite so controlled in the bedroom.

“Want to know what I demand?” Maylee asked.

He nodded, unable to form words.

“Your tongue . . .” Stroke. “All over my body.” Stroke. “And then I’ll do the same to you.” Stroke. “How does that sound?”

“Incredible,” he breathed, his dazed expression warming her heart.

“Then let’s go check out that bed, shall we?” And she reluctantly slid her hand away from his cock and left the tiny bathroom.

He followed her out, his hand touching her back, her arm, as if reluctant to let her leave him for one moment. And that was rather gratifying and sweet, all at once. She felt a surge of affection for him—this lonely, isolated man who didn’t know how to ask for affection, but basked in her attentions.

She’d be careful with his heart. Maylee turned around to give Griffin a sweet smile and to tell him how much she cared for him.

But his mouth landed on hers, his hand at her neck, holding her close, and she forgot all about being careful with anyone or anything. His desire devoured her own, and when the kiss deepened, Maylee’s knees got weak. She’d never been quite so affected by a kiss as she had by his. Her hands clawed at his clothing, and she felt a sudden desperate need to feel his skin against hers. “Clothes off,” she panted.

“You first,” he told her. “You said you wanted my tongue all over your body and I aim to comply. Now, get naked for me.”

A shiver moved over her and she nodded, pulling at her T-shirt. So much for staying in control. He’d quickly taken over again and she’d willingly given up control to him. With a quick movement, she tugged her shirt over her head, and then undid her jeans, slipping out of them and kicking them aside. Then she stood before him in nothing but an old bra and panties that had both seen better days.

She grimaced, imagining how it must look to his eyes. “I left all the clothes you bought for me back at the hotel. All I have is this old stuff—”

“You’re beautiful,” he told her softly, and kissed her mouth with infinite tenderness. “Even if you wore rags, you would be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. Before you, I never found camouflage erotic, and now I get a cockstand at the sight.”

Tears pricked her eyes and she gave him a soft smile. “You’re just saying that to get into my pants.”

“I’m in your pants,” he told her. “But I mean what I say. I love you, Maylee Meriweather, and to me, you are the most wondrous creature I have ever seen.”

She gave a small sigh of pleasure at hearing him say that. This was the man she’d fallen for. She was terrified to think about what might happen. What if they were just words? What if a man with an upbringing like Griffin’s didn’t know how to love? She worried it was all another misunderstanding, but kept those thoughts to herself. To distract him from her silence, she removed her bra and panties.

“Utterly beautiful,” Griffin said reverently, stroking his fingers up her tanned arm. “Like my own personal Venus.” Those fingertips moved across her shoulder and collarbone, lightly tracing her skin. “I am the luckiest man alive.”

Her hands fluttered as she put them on his formal coat, her desire making her pulse and ache between her legs. “Are you going to get naked with me?”

“Eventually,” he said, and his hand trailed between her breasts. “First, I want to get my fill of looking at you.”

So she stood in front of him, trembling, as he let his fingertips explore over her body. They glided and grazed over her breasts, circling the tips. They moved down the gentle curve of her belly, traced along the lines of her hipbones. They moved between her legs and lightly grazed over the damp curls of her arousal, and she sucked in a breath, hoping for those fingers to push between her legs and open her for him.

But instead, he knelt before her and tenderly kissed the skin just above her mound. “So beautiful.”

She was practically vibrating with desire. “Griff,” she murmured, voice husky. “If you don’t throw me down on this bed and make love to me, so help me—”

He ignored her and pressed his face inward, lightly nuzzling at the curls of her sex with his mouth, and she felt the tip of his tongue graze her clit.

A high-pitched gasp escaped her throat, and her knees buckled slightly. Only his hands on her hips kept her upright. “Oh.”

“Lay down, darling,” he said. “I want to put my mouth on you.”

She did, finding the edge of the bed and sitting on it with trembling legs. Then, as she laid back, she watched as Griffin slowly, methodically undid the buttons on his thick ceremonial coat and then tossed it to the floor, revealing an undershirt tucked into his slacks and those muscular arms. Maylee gave a sigh of pleasure at the sight of that, marveling again at the ugly tattoo on his bicep that seemed so out of character for him.

“My beautiful, darling Maylee,” he murmured, leaning down over her on the bed. He crawled over her, and while she lay flat on the bed under him, he gently kissed her brow, then her cheekbones, and continued on across her face, paying homage to every feature. He nipped at her chin in a way that made her nipples tighten even more, and she shifted, almost panting with desire. Strange how these sweet, thoughtful kisses were more erotic than anything she’d ever experienced in her life.

He kissed his way across her shoulders and on to her breasts, gently taking the tip of each one into his mouth and lightly sucking and teasing at the tip until she was biting back her moans of pleasure. Her hands raked through his hair over and over again, and her back raised off the bed each time his mouth clasped over a nipple. It felt so good; she wanted more, and she ached deep inside for him.

Then his mouth lightly traced down her belly, and his tongue dipped into her navel, circling it and giving her hints of what was to come. “Oh, lordamercy,” she breathed.

“Do you know it makes my cock hard every time I hear you say that?” he murmured, but continued down his path. “I nearly come undone each time. For some reason, that sweet drawl of yours makes me incredibly hard. It’s like I picture your tongue curling over your words, and then I imagine it curling over the head of my cock.”

Oh, God, he was a talker in bed. This was destroying her. Maylee’s hands fisted in the blankets and she panted, silently begging for him to give her more.

“Ah,” he said after a moment, as if he’d discovered something pleasurable, and her breath exploded as her imagination did. “You’re very wet for me, aren’t you, darling?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and a small whimper escaped her throat.

His fingers parted her flesh, and she felt his mouth on her folds a moment later, tongue sliding up and down the damp center of her. “You taste as beautiful as you look,” he whispered, and then his mouth went to her clit. His tongue brushed over it, and then he sucked on it, teasing it with his lips.

A tremor wracked through her, growing in intensity. He continued to tongue and suck at her clit, not budging now that he’d found just where she wanted him to be, and the intensity built, exploding behind her eyes. To her stunned surprise, she came in a quick, violent burst, her fingers clawing at his scalp even as her legs spasmed and her heels dug into the bed.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh. Oh, lordamercy. Oh, Griff.”

When he’d wrung the last shudders out of her, he lifted his head, lips gleaming from her wetness, and there was a smug, satisfied look of pleasure on his gorgeous face, as if he were proud that he’d been able to make her come so hard. Breathless, she watched as he climbed back up next to her and lay down on his side, watching her recover.

The man looked incredibly pleased with himself.

“Need a moment, darling?” He reached out and caressed her breast, thumbing her nipple casually. He looked as if he had all the time in the world now that he’d satisfied her, but she felt the press of his cock against her leg.

All this casual control? It was an act. And her Griffin was far too good at acting controlled.

She wanted to make him wild. So she rolled onto her hands and knees and gave his shoulder a push, indicating he should lie back on the bed.

His hands moved to cup her dangling breasts, and he made a small sound of pleasure in his throat. “You are incredibly beautiful.”

“You’ve mentioned that once or twice,” Maylee teased, finding her voice again. She tugged at his undershirt and pulled it up, exposing his flat stomach and the muscles there. She contemplated torturing him in the same way he’d tortured her—endless kisses all over his skin—but his cock was straining his pants, and she knew he was already painfully aroused. He’d expect her to take her time, just like he had.

But she wanted to surprise him.

So she shimmied down the bed a little, away from those delicious hands that played with her breasts and began to unbuckle his pants with quick, easy motions. He reached down to help her and she slapped his hand away. “You’re mine now. Sit back and behave.”

He chuckled, but his hands moved away and back to her hair, fingering her curls. He loved touching her hair, so she had to trust him when he’d said he liked it wild and free.

A moment later, she had his pants undone and pushed aside his zipper. He raised his hips so she could slide the clothes down, but she decided on a different tactic, a quicker one. Ripping at the button that held the fly of his boxers closed, she snapped it off and pushed his cock through the fabric, exposing it.

“Well, hello again,” she murmured at the sight of his erection rising up, the crown thick and glistening. “So nice to see you.”

And she grasped the base of his cock and took the head of him into her mouth.

Griffin immediately stiffened on the bed, his entire body going taut. Her tongue swirled around the head, then lightly traced the underside of the crown, exploring him. He was nice and thick, and she was a greedy woman because she loved that he was. She wanted all of him, and just handling him like this was making her ache deep between her legs. She couldn’t wait to feel him deep inside her. Anticipating this, she opened her jaw and took him deeper, sucking hard.

He nearly came off the bed. “Oh, bloody hell, Maylee—”

She groaned with pleasure at his response, the rumble in her throat sending another shiver through his body. So she continued to deep throat him, letting her mouth get good and wet as she slid him against the back of her tongue and took him deeper into her throat. She knew she was doing good when his hips rose to meet her stroking mouth, and his hand fisted in her hair, as if he were trying desperately not to shove deeper.

He pulled her off him a moment later, panting. “No, wait—”

She mewed a protest, trying to pull him back into her mouth.

“Condoms,” he demanded, and rolled off the bed, heading to find them.

She waited for him on the bed, aching and full of need, and he returned a moment later, fingers hastily tearing the box open, his cock jutting out of his opened pants and boxers. She couldn’t help but reach for him again, and he groaned, pulling away from her and extricating himself from his clothing. He had trouble with the boxers and ended up ripping them off, the fabric tearing overloud in the room. Griffin didn’t look like he cared, though. His hair was sticking up in tufts, and his cheeks were flushed with the intensity of what they were doing.

He was gorgeous.

He rolled on the condom and grabbed for her. He sat at the edge of the bed and then patted his knee. “Come sit in my lap, darling.” His cock jutted up, indicating just where she should sit.

Maylee swung a leg over him, and Griffin’s hands immediately went to her hips to hold her. With his hands guiding her, she slid down his front and seated herself, oh so slowly, atop his cock. The push into her body made her breath suck in, and she immediately tensed her muscles, clinging to his shoulders. He was bigger than her last lover, and his cock burned a little as it went in, but he felt delicious. “Griff,” she moaned. “Oh, lordamercy.”

“Maylee,” he groaned in response. “Sweet, bloody beautiful Maylee.”

And he sank her down completely on him.

She cried out, only to have her cry smothered by his kiss. This position allowed her entire body to rub up against his, and she locked her legs around his waist. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and his arm at her waist held her tightly in place.

And he kissed her. Oh, God, he kissed her so deeply and thoroughly that she felt penetrated all over again. Her mind was in a daze, and she whimpered when he bucked his hips and it made everything rock just a little bit deeper.

“My Maylee,” he murmured, rocking his hips again, and then he began a motion she wasn’t entirely sure was legal, his hips moving back and forth even as she rocked her own to increase the friction. Her clit was rubbing against his groin, her nipples were brushing on his chest, and his mouth kept licking and slicking at her own.

It was the most erotic thing she’d ever felt. She’d never had sex like this before, sitting atop of someone and letting him fuck her upright. It made everything so very intimate.

His motions were slow and controlled, but Maylee couldn’t seem to control her hips. She thrust down on him as hard as she could, enjoying his little groans of response. Her own body was trembling, and she felt her sex tightening in response as another orgasm began to build. Her nails dug into his skin and her kisses took on a frantic edge, even as he began to thrust harder into her, encouraging that build.

She felt it in her entire body when she came that time, everything trembling and tightening around him so hard that she knew he felt it, even if she didn’t make a sound. His groan of response told her everything.

Then, he lay back on the bed and rolled over swiftly, and she was pinned underneath him. Before she could question, he pulled back and thrust deep and rough into her.

And she gasped, stunned at how good that felt. When he did it again—faster and rougher than before—the force of his motions shoved her across the bed a little, and his skin slapped at her own. But she clung to him, loving it. “Griff,” she moaned softly. “Oh, Griff.”

“I love you,” he gritted out, the words ragged. “Love you, Maylee.”

And he came, dragging her name out as if it were a benediction.

Maylee curled her arms around him and gave a long sigh of contentment as he shuddered and quaked in her arms, lost in his own orgasm.

When Griffin finally pulled off her, she made a sound of protest as their bodies separated. She didn’t want him to leave her ever again. A moment later, he returned to the bed and curled around her naked body, pulling her against him.

She snuggled in his arms, content.

He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Don’t fall asleep for long. It’s not that long of a flight home, and you should get dressed again before Kip comes looking for us.”

She chuckled, running her hands over his skin. “Give a girl a moment to cuddle, will you?”

“Several moments, if you so choose.”

“I do,” she told him, and ran a finger over his tattoo, the ugly skull with the money sticking out of the eye socket. So garish. It was an odd choice for a man like Griffin. “This is rather hideous.”

“Isn’t it?” His droll voice surprised her.

“Why’d you get it if you think it’s ugly? It doesn’t seem like you.”

He hesitated. “Long story.”

She looked over at him. “I’m not going anywhere at the moment.”

He shook his head. “I . . . I can’t say right now, Maylee.”

“Oh, okay.” She smiled at him, but couldn’t hide her unease. Secrets already? She’d hoped they were past that. “I guess I should get up and dress.”

To her surprise, when she tried to sit up and get dressed, he dragged her back down on the bed and kissed her passionately. When his mouth lifted from hers, he whispered, “I said that I can’t tell you right now, Maylee, darling. Not that I won’t. Just give me time, all right?”

And she nodded, because what else could she do? If he wasn’t ready to share all his secrets yet, she supposed she understood that.

She just hoped it wasn’t one that would hurt her in the long run.