Page 49 of Lone Spy

She’d never talked about fleeing her home, losing her family. That rainy afternoon in her living room, Grandma told me the whole thing. It feels burned into my brain, the sorrow of it twined with my own loss like DNA. My grandmother was younger than me when she arrived in America alone, a refugee. But she survived. And she promised me I would too.

I could take this necklace, this band of diamonds, and flee. Move to some fishing village, change my name, dye my hair. Disappear. But probably not…

“I’m going to change," I say, turning. Temperance stands next to one of the large windows with its view onto the gardens. Located in the crowded heart of Rome, the Rocco Forte Hotel feels like a country villa with its extensive walled gardens and private terraces. I stare at Temperance so long, he looks back at me. I blink at him, tilt my head.Take the hint and leave so I can change.

"I'm escorting you to meet someone; wear something professional." His tone is conversational.

I blink at him. The gown I'm wearing suddenly weighs more. It's scarlet, one-shouldered and falls to the floor in elegant drapes—like a toga but modern. The yards of satin suddenly feel like chain mail.

I'm exhausted. At the premiere tonight I had to pretend I was the right amount of fine—shaken but okay. Hannah inspected my eyes and didn't believe me. Which is no shade on Zade's craftsmanship. She knows my tells.

But Hannah didn't confront me. Just brought me a glass of whiskey at the afterparty and sat next to me, playing interference. She's a good friend, and the fact that I can't tell her the truth of my life is just one more sorrow to endure. And endure I will. I straighten my spine and nod to Temperance.

He wants me to meet "someone" at this late hour. Fine. I can handle it. I can handle anything he throws at me.

When Temperance opens the bedroom door I see Ash standing on the far side of the sitting room, his expression blank, eyes cold. Our gazes meet over Temperance's shoulder. His does not change.

A flower bouquet overwhelms the coffee table—sent by Prince Omar with another note of apology.

"Ash," I say, stepping forward to hold the door open. "I need your help with my zipper."

He nods like it's normal for me to ask him for help undressing. Ash passes Temperance, who cocks his head slightly. I can't see his face, but I'm guessing it's asking Ash a question. Something along the lines ofyou're unzipping her gowns now?

I close the door, Ash on my side of it. Then I head to the bathroom. Ash follows. I face the mirror. He stands behind me, focus on my back, at the zipper that starts between my shoulder blades and ends at the base of my spine.

Ash's hair is longer every time I look at him. It's still stubble-rough but thick enough I can't see his scalp through it anymore. The feel of his hair against my fingers in that dark, smoke-choked hall crashes into me. So soft. So warm.

"Do you know who he's taking me to see?" I ask, yanking myself back into this moment.

"No." Ash's thumb brushes my skin as he grasps the tiny pull tab. An involuntary shiver raises goose bumps on my skin. The zipper comes down, Ash's eyes follow it.

"Are you coming with us?"

"No." His touch lingers a fraction longer than necessary at the end of the zipper. But then he steps back, eyes coming to meet mine in the mirror. Frigid cobalt.

The dress drapes open, my spine naked. I raise a hand to keep it in place. If I let the fabric slip off my body the way gravity wants it to, what would Ash do?

"Do you need anything else?" he asks like he didn't hold me while I sobbed hours ago. Like I didn't sleep on his chest in that hospital room. Like he didn't promise me I was safe with him.

I turn to Ash, facing the man instead of the reflection. He has fully transformed back into a statue, as cold as the marble busts in the garden. "Should I go with him?"

Ash blinks—he wasn't expecting the question. Temperance, as far as I know, is not a US agent anymore. He could be working for North Korea or another enemy. I don't want to betray my country. But then again, if he was removed for being unreliable and replaced by someone more loyal to Grand, he could be on the right side.

There is an election next year, maybe Grand will lose and people like Temperance will be restored to power. My chest tightens with a mix of hope and dread.

"Do you think I can trust him?" I ask.

A frown forms between Ash's brows. "Trust no one."

"Not even you?"

My heartbeat flutters in my throat. And I let my dress slip. Ash's nostrils flare even as his eyes stay trained on mine. I take a step closer to him. My lace strapless bra brushes the lapels of his suit. Ash's hands land on my hips, holding me still, stopping me from getting any closer. Branding my skin with their rough heat.

I lay my hands on his chest and cock my head, a smile tugging at my lips. "You won't hurt me." My voice comes out a husky purr. His eyes burn down at me—still totally focused on my face, refusing to drift lower. "Look how noble you are—most men would have pushed me up against the sink." I lick my lips. "Lifted my legs around their hips, and..." I smile. "Well, I bet you can use your imagination about what would happen next."

Ash moves back, his hands still on my hips, holding me in place—making sure I can't get closer. "I know you want me," I say. He swallows and doesn't deny the truth. "But you won't take me because you are just that good of a man."

"I am not a good man." His voice has never been so deep. So gritty. But his eyes don't drop, his hands don't move.

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