Page 99 of One Secret

Following in her wake, I'm quick to unlock our suite and secure us both inside. I yank up the desk chair and plant it in the middle of the room.

'Sit,' I order her.

Darcy watches me with some serious scrutiny before she deigns to obey. She settles into the wooden chair, arms folded and legs crossed one slim thigh over the other. The classic posture adopted by those who have something to hide.

It annoys me that the beds are made. Housekeeping has stripped the linens that we spoiled in the night, replacing them with fresh, impersonal sheets.

'What now, my liege?' Darcy taunts from her seat.

Her stare is full of heated animosity... and bald resolve. The gaze of a woman who does not back down. A woman who has seen horrors and no longer fears them.

Or, who simply doesn't fear me.

Again, how did I not see the signs until now? How did I let her burrow so deep before realizing she's on the opposing team?

I love this woman…

Reaching for the bed, I grab those accursed fresh linens and tear off several strips of tattered fabric.

Darcy stares at me like I've lost my mind.

'What the hell are you—oh, you have got to be kidding me?!'

She tries to escape but I grab her before she's two steps off the block. Hauling her back into the chair, I hold her down by the shoulders. She's strong and it takes far longer than intended to bind her wrists to the arms of the chair and her ankles to its legs.

When I pull away, I'm bruised in more than a few places and half impressed by the bite mark on my forearm.

'You're shitting me with this?' Darcy demands, her hair falling into her eyes from her struggles and her cheeks flush with exertion. I'm a little out of breath myself.

'I am not. Because now,' I promise her with an eerie stillness. 'Now, we find out who you really are, Darcy Calabrese...'

'In five minutes?' Darcy laughs, glancing at the door over my shoulder and tugging at her restraints. 'You must be very confident in your interrogation skills.'

Anger sparks hotly, scenting something akin to a confession.

'Is that what it's going to take, Darcy?' I ask, trying to cool my temper. 'An interrogation?'

She stares up at me, eyes dark with rebellion.

'Did you ever think...' she poses slowly, quietly. 'That I might have a good reason for keeping certain elements of my life private?'

'You were the one who wanted us working more honestly,' I point out.

'And I told you that I'd be bad at it.'

'Meaning,' I argue, 'that you never intended to be truthful, in the first place.'

'Not about this, no.'

I snarl and work to keep our argument to a low volume. Too much noise and the neighboring guests might send someone to the room.

'And what is "this"?' I demand. 'Who do you answer to?'

Darcy sighs. Her gaze flickers towards the beds and, for a moment, I wonder if she's seeing what I do every time I look over at that side of the room: the revels we found there.

I can still feel the creamy softness of her skin. The rough little callouses on her hands as she explores my body in return. I feel the heat of her breath on my neck. The delicious contrast of her silken hair and fuzzy undercut.

I know the taste of her. Intimately. I want it. I crave it…

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