Dear God.
When he saw the dawning of understanding on her face, and the resulting fear, he dropped his hand. “I will protect you and your son from those who want you dead, in exchange for a night with you.”
Millie’s mouth went bone-dry, and she dare not look down at the arousal pulsing against his thin trousers beneath the surface of the water. She took an involuntary step back, her quivering legs encountering the ledge beneath the water.
“D-don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m never ridiculous.”
Somehow she didn’t doubt that. His mouth was set in such a grim line Millie would stake her livelihood on the certainty that it had never truly formed a smile.
“I don’t want protection from a man like you.”
“You won’t survive without a man like me.”
“I’ll go to the police,” she warned.
He closed the gap between them. “You’ve been to the police already. You hired a personal guard.” He glanced pointedly around the vacant room. “And yet, here I am.”
Here he is. Large and strong and utterly lethal. The truth of this was more disturbing than she’d like to admit.
He folded his arms across his chest, looking very much like a statue of Poseidon rising from a fountain she’d once seen in Florence. All but for the beard.
“If I got to you, others will, too. But they won’t get past me. I’m the best at what I do.” He said this without bravado or pretension, and didn’t wait for her to argue or validate.
A new fear stabbed her in the gut. “How—how many others are after me? And you say they’re after Jakub, as well? Who wishes us harm? This Mr. Dashforth who hired you, I don’t know of him. Who does he work for?” Her head swam and began to pound, and she knew it wasn’t just the heat that made her dizzy.
The assassin in front of her was silent for a beat. “I didn’t think to ask.” He narrowed his eyes down at her. “You have no idea who would wish you dead?”
She could think of only one threat. One she’d thought had died with her dearest friend five years ago.
“Jakub’s father,” she whispered.
“And who is that?”
Millie closed her eyes, gathering her courage. “I … don’t know.”
Another of his now familiar pauses. “You don’t know?”
“There was a party I was paid to go to,” Millie lied. “One for the rich and the powerful. Everyone wore masks. Jakub’s father could have been … anyone there.” All right. So it made her sound like a prostitute, but of the two of them in this room, in this bath, hers would still be the lesser crime. Wouldn’t it?
The two oldest professions for hire. The two greatest sins.
Fornication and murder.
Gathering her courage, she glanced up at him and didn’t find the disgust or judgment she’d expected. Only a strong brow furrowed in thought. “I’ll have to find out from Dashforth just who his employer is.”
“Wait,” she cried. “But I haven’t acquiesced to your proposition—we haven’t come to an agreement.”
“But we will. You will.” His eyes traversed the length of her body again, and she abruptly sat on the ledge, seeking refuge in the water, crossing both arms over her breasts, just to be contrary if nothing else.
“You’re so certain of that, are you? So certain I’ll lie with you. So certain you’re the best. I can’t believe your arrogance.”
“It’s not arrogance if it’s accurate. You are the best actress on the London stage, and I’m the best—”
“Killer?” she interrupted.
“Yes. Among other things.”
She shuddered to think of just what those things were. Wait, had he just paid her a compliment? Millie put a hand to her head, as the room had yet to stop spinning.
He didn’t move. Not once. But somehow his voice seemed closer. “One night,” he repeated. “One night in your bed and I’ll keep you and your son alive until the threat has passed. Is that such a high price to pay?”
She couldn’t answer that. It was a higher price than he realized.
So why was she tempted? Why did the cold danger emanating from the hard man in front of her speak to that primal part of her soul? Who knew that desire and fear could feed each other in equal measure?
“Why?” she whispered. “When you could have stacks of money, why trade it for a night with me? It makes no sense.”
“I already have stacks of money,” he answered. “You said it yourself. I haven’t been able to keep my hands off you. Or my mouth. I can’t be in the same room as you without getting hard. Without wanting to take you.”
Millie’s head snapped back in shock, and she instantly knew it had been a mistake. His hips were at eye level, his erection just above the water in which he stood, pressing against his trousers as though to prove a point.
How could he deliver news like that so laconically? Had he no shame?
Of course he didn’t. He stood like a god, his arms still crossed over his deep chest, looking at her in his matter-of-fact way.
“I want you,” he said, with no inflection at all. “And before you found out what I am, you wanted me, too.”
Millie gasped. She hated him in that moment. Hated that he was right. She had wanted him. Had begged him to kiss her when he was Bentley Drummle. Had entertained all kinds of salacious fantasies about him.