He stood and pulled her to her feet. If she dissolved into tears on his bed, he’d cave for sure and would never be able to face himself in the mirror again. “No. I’m saying I want to spend time with you somewhere besides there.” He gestured to the bed. “I want to send you roses. I want to see the way your skin glows in candlelight. I want to call you in the middle of the day, just to talk. I want all of that, and a hell of a lot more. But, if you don’t, if that’s too disruptive to your precious plans, then…” Drawing a deep breath while parts of his anatomy vehemently protested the ultimatum, he gathered his strength and finished. “No. Your body, amazing as it is, isn’t enough for me.”She lowered her head, but not before he saw her chin tremble. “Anaisse …” Cupping his hand around her neck, he nudged his thumb along her jaw, lifting her face to his. Her chin had firmed, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.“I should go.”Not the answer he’d been hoping for. Forcing a smile, he said, “Yeah,
“Always,” she repeated, encouraged when her voice sounded less like it came from the far end of a long tunnel. She fought the dragging pull of sleep. Vague recollections of losing this battle a couple of times already, with the paramedics, a harried doctor, and a nice nurse, danced through her mind. But this time she wanted, no, needed to win. Because this time, it was Tommy.As the fog cleared, she pulled his heart-stopping face into focus. He opened his mouth to respond, but Anabelle’s anxious voice swept into the silence.“Do you remember what happened? Ben drugged you and tossed you in the back of his car.”She turned her head and found Annabelle on her other side.“Ben?” For a moment, her mind refused to connect the name with anything, and then, whoosh, it all came rushing back—the knock at her car window, surprise at finding him standing there, a chemical-laden cloth shoved in her face.That cleared the fog like a gale-force wind. She struggled to sit up, only to have two sets o
Annabelle Santini tucked a condom into the cleavage-boosting bustier she wore beneath her wispy, white angel costume, and eyed her reflection in her vanity mirror. Nice. The Lycra miracle pushed her breasts together and created the kind of view that guaranteed no man would have the first clue what color her eyes were tonight, and—bonus points—not a trace of the little foil square showed through. She considered adding a wingman to the other side when a voice interrupted her musings.“‘I’m out of patience, Annabelle,” Anaisse read. “Resign from ABS CBN Vixens and leave Metro Manila, or you will be sorry. This is your last chance to exit gracefully. Do as you’re told, your show’s producers, sponsors, and fans will learn you’re nothing but a delinquent from Paliparan, Dasmariñas City? A slutty ex-stripper who worked her way from pole dancing at Phoenix Club to a starring role on Philippines’s favorite guilty pleasure? It’s going to get ugly. Sincerely, Your Worst Nightmare.’ What the hell
“You should call him,” her sister said, not fooled in the least. “You’re miserable—don’t deny it, I know you too well. He’s miserable too, in case you wondered. I know you got spooked when he asked you to move in, but there’s a lot of safe ground between living together and breaking up. I think you should talk, now that you’ve both had some time to calm down and consider things.”Safe ground? What a joke. Because of her, and the choices she’d made before she ever met Ian, there was no safe ground for them. So for once in her life, she’d done the noble thing, the selfless thing, the most painful thing imaginable. She’d set him free before she ruined his life by dragging him and the family he loved through a humiliating public airing of her not-so-upstanding past. Miserable or not, he must have realized he’d dodged a bullet when she’d broken things off, because he’d done nothing to try to change her mind, and Ryan could be relentless when he wanted something.“I adore you, Anaisse. I re
Ryan Ferrer closed his eyes and let the hot spray of the shower rain down on the top of his head. Maybe it would pound some resolve into him, because he was uncomfortably close to chucking his “wait Annabelle out” plan, tracking her down, screwing her brains out, and, somewhere in the process, telling her he refused to allow her emotional baggage to sink their relationship. Unfortunately, if he did that, he might as well hand his balls over in a pretty pink gift bag.Irritated to find his thoughts traversing this same well-worn trail for the billionth time since their breakup, he grabbed a bottle of liquid soap from the recessed tile shower shelf and squirted some into his hand. The smell of Annabelle’s fancy soap filled the small space. Nice going, stud. Wrong bottle. The scent provoked memories, just to mess with his head. One fine Saturday morning she’d stood right there in his shower and washed him from head to toe, with some un-fucking-forgettable detours in between, because when
He wanted to stride in, toss Annabelle over his shoulder, and walk out…and not put her down until she told him she loved him and begged him to take her back. Then they’d turn the damn letter over to a forensic team, pick her brain for a list of suspects, and talk her into adding personal security to her entourage until the threat was resolved. But Annabelle would dig in her heels and refuse to cooperate if he tried the shoulder-toss tactic.“You go in and find Anaisse. Stick to her, because she and Annabelle look so much alike, if some sicko has his sights set on Annabelle, there’s a chance he’ll mistake Anaisse for her, which puts them both in danger. I’ll find Annabelle, stay close to her, and ensure nobody tries anything. At the first opportunity, I’ll try to wrangle her outside so we can move to a more secure location and question her about the letter.”“Okay. I’ve got your six. How do you plan to get her to leave with you?”“I have no clue, but I’m figuring the ski mask might com
The vacant spot he left behind offered her a view of the club. She spotted Anaisse and Tommy cuddled up together by the bar. The sight of Tommy brought unwanted thoughts of Ryan Ferrer flooding back. Was he here too? She scanned the room for one ridiculously painful heartbeat. No sign of him. A heavy sensation sank through her chest to settle in her stomach. She labeled it relief and turned back to the stage.The second drink kicked in, giving her a nice buzz. She raised her arms over her head and looked up to watch the shadows they cast in the purple lights shining down from the ceiling rig. Someone behind her chose that moment to give her a hip bump, and toppled her off balance. She stumbled forward and might have fallen, but two strong arms caught her and pulled her up against a hard, male chest.Her breath clogged her lungs for a moment, then burst out in a rush. “Thanks,” she managed and looked up at her rescuer. A black ski mask obscured his face. A soft, black, long-sleeved shi
She reached the first VIP room and realized the door might be locked. A weak part of her whispered that might be for the best, but luck was on her side. The knob twisted under her hand and the door popped open. She smiled and led Ryan into the private room. He closed the door behind them and the sounds of the party immediately receded to a muted chaos punctuated by the relentless, pumping bass lines. Perfect. Not so quiet as to facilitate, God forbid, conversation, but not so loud it felt as if they still stood in the middle of the dance floor.Her hands wanted to shake, so she propped them on her hips and took a moment to look around the once-familiar space. Not much had changed. The small, softly lit VIP room served one main purpose—to give clients a place to sit back and enjoy a private dance with the entertainer of their choice. A costly indulgence, at an upscale gentlemen’s club like Phoenix, and the decor, while restrained, acknowledged the price of the luxury. A comfortable da
He slipped the ring on her finger, climbed onto the bed, and swept her into a kiss. By the time he was done, her head spun more than a little, and there was a strange clapping sound assaulting her ears. “Ignore them,” he whispered, cupped her jaw, and lowered his head for another kiss.Confused, she looked beyond him, toward the door. Val, Ginger, Ariana, Lee Anne, Anaisse, and Tommy gathered just beyond the threshold, clapping.“About time, Snowflake,” Ginger called.“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Ryan called, never taking his eyes off her. His smile held wicked intent.The door whooshed closed.“I’m injured,” she warned as he moved in.“I’m careful.” He traced the front opening of her hospital gown, barely grazing her flesh.“I guess you are,” she managed, as his fingers parted the gown.“And creative.” As proof, he tapped the bed-adjust button and eased her into a more reclined position.She raised a brow at him. “A nurse could walk in here at any moment to check on me
The light hum of female voices registered first, followed by the smell of roses and lilies. Annabelle lay still for a moment, kept her eyes closed, and did a quick physical inventory. Toes? Check. Fingers? Check. Head still attached to the shoulders? Check.Best she could tell, all parts were present and accounted for. She felt stiff and groggy like she’d been asleep for a week, but nothing too alarming. A vague impression of Ryan holding her hand and telling her not to worry about anything danced through her mind, but she couldn’t say for sure whether that was memory or wishful thinking. She racked her brain for something more. Other images formed—a nurse with a short brunette bob offering her water. Anaisse smiling through tears while helping brush her teeth and hair—but no Ryan Ferrer.Deciding to chance a look around, she opened her eyes and blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness. Sunlight streamed through an unfamiliar window, below which sat a metal cabinet holdi
Ryan hurried down the passageway toward the stage, hugging the wall and keeping his steps quick and light. He doubted anyone would hear him coming over the noise of the party, but he didn’t plan on leaving it to chance.The passageway widened at the back of the stage. A retractable metal security gate spanned the stage to prevent anyone from moving the festivities to the backstage area. The blackout curtain hung just beyond the security gate. He wrapped his hand around a slat and gave the gate a shake, testing it. Fully secure, with very little give. No one had slipped into or out of the backstage area through there. He worked his fingers between the slats, moved the curtain aside, and looked out. A sea of zombies, ghouls, princesses, and pirate wenches danced under flashing purple lights. Nothing unusual.His phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the screen. A text from Tommy read, At the back door. Wait for me. For a nanosecond, he considered waiting, because, pro
Detective Ryan FerrerRyan bit back a curse as he examined the broken lock. Kicked in? He pulled his gun and crept through the door, keeping it low. Since nobody shot him in the head the moment he cleared the threshold, he swept left with his gun, then right. No sign of anyone.He straightened, stuck his gun into the back of his jeans, and debated his choices. Val’s office and the dancers’ dressing room were down the hallway to the left. The hallway on his right led to the stage, and beyond that, another narrow hall led to the back door of the club.Instinct told him to go right since that direction ultimately led to an exit. He shot off a text to Tommy. The door’s busted. Get back here. Don’t bring Anaisse. He didn’t wait for a reply, just tucked the phone in his pocket and started down the hall, scanning in every direction as he went. A few steps along, he glanced down and froze. What the hell…? He crouched and picked up a small white feather.His heart thundered in his chest. Annab
Oh, no. No one would see them up there. “I can’t. I’m afraid of heights.” Also, she was in no condition to scramble up a straight-vertical ladder. Numb hands, shaky legs, and the unrelenting pain in her side made the climb risky.She released a shuddery breath when the pressure of the gun disappeared from the center of her back. Her shoulders dropped and she relaxed infinitesimally, just knowing the damn thing wasn’t poised to blow a hole through—The cold, unforgiving metal pressed against her temple, scattering her thoughts like seagulls. She heard the click of the safety release.“Climb or die.”“Okay, okay.” The words scraped along her tight, dry throat. Turned out her fear of bullets trumped her fear of heights. She clasped the nearest rung in a bloody grip. “I’ll climb.”Working her way up the ladder took even more effort than she’d anticipated. Escape scenarios cart-wheeled through her mind too quickly for her to get a solid hold on any one plan.Stay calm. Easier thought than
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Annabelle, where are you? Ryan cut a path through zombies, mummies, and vampires, scouring his search area for any sign of her. There was none. To compound his apprehension, his phone remained frustratingly silent. The secret hope he’d harbored that she’d sneaked away to a stall in the ladies’ room to put herself together and curse him to hell and back waned with each passing second.If anything happened to her, he’d…he didn’t know what he’d do. His hand shook as he shoved it through his hair, pulling hard at the roots until his scalp screamed. They had to find her. End of discussion. There was no way his last interaction with the love of his life could take place in a back room at a strip club, her staring at him with a heartbreaking expression on her face, saying, “I’m sorry.”Absolutely not. He’d find her. And when he did, he’d sit her down and they’d have an honest talk—no more games or tactics. He’d ask her, point-blank, what the hell part of their relationship
Now Tommy turned and looked at him. “She doesn’t have her phone.”“What?” True, Annabelle hadn’t been carrying hers either, but Anaisse was the responsible twin.“You saw what she’s wearing. You think she’s got a BlackBerry built into her shoe?”“I was hoping.”“Sorry to burst your bubble. I don’t suppose Annabelle told you what she did on her way in to the party?”The bad feeling came back. Stronger. “She said something about handling her pen pal.”“She scooped him. He threatened to reveal that she used to strip for a living. Annabelle decided to break the news herself, so she rolled out of the limo this evening and held herself a press conference, during which she mentioned she’d spent two years dancing at Phoenix.”He felt the color drain out of his face. “Holy shit. Exactly why am I not supposed to be worried yet?”Tommy shrugged but returned to inspecting the crowd. “She could be right. Now that he’s got no hammer to hold over her, he’ll lose interest.”“Maybe. Or could be he’ll
The insult stung. Did he really think he’d fooled her up until they’d danced? Like she only recognized him by the feel of his cock? “I knew it was you the minute I saw you. Letting you think otherwise was just”—she lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug—“an entertaining little game. But the game is over and, ultimately, doesn’t change what I want.”Apparently, she could sting him back, because his eyes narrowed. Then he ground his hips against hers until she bit her lip and moaned.“You’re sending mixed signals, Annabelle. You don’t know what you want.”Sadly, she did—she wanted far too much, more than he’d offered—but her stupid, traitorous hips lifted, seeking more from him.“Careful. The condom…” He reached down between them and pinched the base of his erection, holding the latex in place. But when he started to pull out, she panicked.“Don’t.” Her hands flew down to his hips, and her fingers dug in to hold him still. Don’t leave me empty. Not yet.“Annabelle…” He swore under his br
Annabelle rode out the last trembling aftershocks from the mind-numbing orgasm—the kind of full-body meltdown only Ryan could deliver. Shaky, sweaty, and tingling like she’d been struck by lightning, she barely registered when he lifted her and put her on his lap. She opened her eyes and immediately tumbled into his. Dammit. He pinned her with an expression she couldn’t fully read, but made her heart want to flip over in her chest and expose its soft underbelly. Which only proved she was, in fact, her own worst nightmare. No faceless stranger could lay claim to the title. She held that honor all on her own.Was that what you were looking for, Angel? He’d spoken quietly, but she heard the test in his voice as if daring her to push him even one more inch.Oh, she dared. Pushing him was about the only thing she dared do at this point because she knew full well her resolve would collapse like a house of cards if she came clean about their charade. And God only knew what confessions would