Catherine sat on a swinging chair, looking out over the balcony railings at the dark grounds of Sean's estate. She dangled a leg over the side of the chair, lazily rocking herself back and forth. The cool night air settled around her, and she tilted her head back to look at the stars.

"What are you doing?" Sean asked from behind her.

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"Looking at the stars," she replied.

"They're beautiful," he said, joining her on the wide seat.

She tensed, but he didn't reach for her. Instead, he leaned back and gazed up at the sky. She turned to look at him. Illuminated by the cold moonlight, she thought that he looked even more intimidating, but even more handsome. In profile, his face looked sculpted from stone.

A gentle breeze blew, wafting the smell of flowers up to the balcony. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Do you like the flowers?" he asked.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and found him staring intently at her. She nodded.

"If you want, you can have them changed," he said. "Tell the head gardener which flowers you want to see, and he'll have the men change them all."

"Nothing needs to be changed," she said. "The flowers are beautiful. I'm surprised a man managed to make such a beautiful garden."

Sean shrugged, "The gardeners did it, not me."

"Don't you like flowers?" she asked.

"No," he said. "I don't."

She stared at him in confusion, wondering why a man who didn't like flowers would ask his gardeners to turn his grounds into a botanic garden. Silence descended again, and she shifted uncomfortably in the chair. It was impossible to talk to him, but equally impossible to pretend he wasn't there.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I ate plenty at dinner."

His eyes scanned her face, lingering on her lips. His look was gentle, but there was a strange hunger in his eyes. She hugged her knees to her chest and looked away.

"Honey," he whispered, his voice soft and husky. "Look at me."

She shivered and lifted her eyes, nestling her chin on top of her knees. She studied his face, wondering what it meant for him to call her honey. Was it affectionate? Was it what he called all of his women, or was it unique to her?

"What is it?" she asked.

"I just wanted to look at you," he said.

She smiled shyly and stared at him. His eyes glimmered like deep, cold pools in the moonlight. He turned his head away, and his face was cast in shadow, mysterious and unreadable.

"I want to go out tomorrow," she said suddenly.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"I want to leave the estate for a few hours," she said.

"Why?" he asked.

"I want to talk to some of my dad's friends and coworkers," she said. "I have some questions for them."

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice cool and distant.

"It is," she nodded.

"And why's that?" he asked.

She bit her lip and hugged her knees tighter. She wanted to ask them what happened when Lawson took over the company. She was sure he'd done something illegal or wrong, but she didn't know what. If her dad's coworkers were willing to help her find information, it would make taking the company back that much easier. Deep down, she was also hoping she could find information proving that Samuel was her real brother.

"I just want to learn more about the company," she said, not daring to meet his eye.

"Hmm," Sean said.

She felt his eyes on her and glanced up—he gazed at her with a thoughtful, curious expression, and she wondered how much he knew.

"You can go," he finally said. "But you have to take Geoffrey with you."

"Okay," she nodded.

Disappointment and frustration flooded her. She didn't want Sean's employees following her around while she dug into her uncle's shady past. Geoffrey was sure to make a full report to Sean, and she didn't want him to know. What if he pulled his investment from the company?

She stood, "I'm going to shower."

She padded into the room, gently pushing the billowing white curtains aside. She expected Sean to follow her, but he didn't. Relieved, she slipped down the hall and took a long, hot shower.

After the shower, she sat at the vanity, wrapped in a thick cotton towel. Slowly, she rubbed cream into her skin, enjoying the luxurious feel of the rich cream. The door swung open, and she jumped, almost dropping the tub of cream all over the floor.

Sean strode into the room in a bathrobe and shut himself in the bathroom. She waited until she heard the water running before getting up and racing into the closet. She grabbed the first nightgown she saw and hurriedly tugged it over her head. She looked down at her body in dismay. The nightgown was made of soft pink silk trimmed with white lace, and it left little to the imagination. The hem barely covered her ass, and the thin straps looked ready to snap. She scanned the closet, looking for more modest pajamas, but they seemed to have disappeared.

Frazzled, she raced out of the closet and tidied her vanity table. She was putting her cream away when Sean's figure appeared behind her in the mirror. She froze, staring at him.

His hair was dark with water and slightly tousled, and his eyes sparkled. But her eyes went immediately to his body—he wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. She stared at his lean, muscular arms, his chiseled chest, and perfect abs. As she watched, a drop of water slipped down his chest, tracing the curve of his pecs. She had a sudden desire to lick it away.

Embarrassed, she grabbed her phone and pretended to answer a text message. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his amused smirk.

"Come on, let's go to bed," he said.

She shivered and lowered her phone, walking slowly and carefully across the room to keep her nightgown from slipping up and revealing her. She slid into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin in spite of the heat. Sean chuckled as he slid in next to her.

She closed her eyes, wondering if he'd try to have sex with her. Her period had just ended, and she was sure he knew that. She felt the bed shift as he moved his weight, and then two cold fingers brushed her hair from her face. She stiffened and held her breath.

"What's the matter?" he whispered.

"Nothing," she said. "I'm just very tired."

"Then go to sleep," he whispered.

His fingers tugged her earlobe, and then the bed shifted again, and she heard his footsteps on the soft carpet. She opened her eyes a crack and watched him walk across the room in his towel. He disappeared for a few minutes and then reappeared in a black bathrobe with a stack of documents in his hands. He turned on a lamp by the sofa and settled down to read in the warm glow of light.

She watched him for a while. As he read, his brows knitted together, and his mouth turned down into a slight frown. His robe was open at the chest, and the lamplight cast shadows across his broad shoulders. Suddenly, his eyes flicked up from the document, and he looked at her. Her eyes were half-closed, but she felt certain he knew she was watching him. Embarrassed, she shut her eyes and tried to fall asleep.

Her breathing slowed, and her head grew heavy on the pillow. Suddenly, she was falling. She tumbled down a long, dark tunnel and finally slammed to a stop at the bottom. Her entire body ached with pain, but she pulled herself to her feet. The dim room grew brighter and brighter, and she realized she was standing in her old prison cell. Behind the barred door, Marco watched her with his cruel, beady eyes.

She jerked awake and sat up in the bed.

"What's wrong?" Sean asked from the sofa.

"Nothing," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I just had a nightmare."

He slowly lowered his papers and stood. He clicked off the lamp and crossed the room in the dark. She strained her eyes, trying to see him, but it was impossible. She felt the bed shift, and then his strong, gentle arms wrapped around her.

He pulled her to his chest, gently spooning her. His warm breath brushed the top of her head, and his fingers traced soothing circles on her arms. Exhausted, she relaxed into him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then she froze. She could feel his warm skin directly against hers—he was naked.

"Relax," he whispered.

She tried to relax, but she was acutely aware of her tiny nightgown. If she shifted even slightly, her entire ass would be exposed, pressed against his groin. His lips brushed against the top of her head, and then he shifted, pressing kisses against her neck.

"Your period is over, isn't it?" he asked.

An electric terror ran through her. "It is," she admitted.

"Good," he said.

He released his grip on her waist and flipped her onto her back. Shifting his weight, he hovered over her, staring down at her with hunger in his eyes. He lowered his head and claimed her lips with his own, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She lay there, frozen, and he made an angry sound in the back of his throat.

Abandoning her mouth, he kissed his way down her jaw and up her neck. His lips were soft and then intense, biting and pulling at her sensitive skin. Without meaning too, she moaned, and the kisses became more intense. He slipped the strap from her shoulder and kissed his way down to the top of her breast, planting more kisses on top of the thin silk. She stiffened, and he suddenly pulled away.

He collapsed onto his back and pulled her head onto his warm chest. Beneath her cheek, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and she could hear the violent hammering of his heart.

"Go to sleep," he said, his voice husky and strained.

A strange mix of relief and disappointment flooded her, and she closed her eyes.