When he orgasmed, he came all over his stomach and his thigh because he couldn’t seem to stop. And his eyes never left hers even as his palms finally came to rest and then released and flopped to the side.

As his breathing eased, she smiled and went to him, capturing his face, kissing him softly. “Thank you.”

“Anytime you have a hankering for that kind of show, just let me know?”

“You can bet on it.”

When they finally rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, they had identical ahhh-lovely smiles on their faces, and Vin got her a monogrammed towel from one of the warming racks. The white terry-cloth expanse was so big it covered her from breast to ankle, and by the time she’d turbaned her hair with a second one, she felt as if she’d been slip-covered in velvety softness.

Vin picked up a third, dried his hair until it sat straight in spikes, and covered his hips. “I like you in my towels.”

“I like being in them.”

He came over and kissed her, and in the pause that followed, her breath stopped in her throat.

She knew what he wanted to say. And agreed it was far, far, far too early for it.

“You want something to eat?” he asked.

“I…probably should head off.” She had a lot of packing to do.

“Okay…all right.”

Sadness thickened the steamy air as they slipped their arms around each other and left the bathroom—

“Am I intruding?”

Marie-Terese froze and so did Vin.

The woman he’d shown up with at the Iron Mask was standing just inside the bedroom, her hands hanging loosely at her sides, her long glossy hair down over her shoulders, her black coat belted tight around her tiny waist.

In her resonant stillness, she looked exactly as any model-chic female would on the surface, but there was something way off about her.

Way. Off.

First of all, if she’d been badly beaten the night before, her face wasn’t showing any signs of it; her features and skin were as smooth and pristine as fresh-cut marble. Second, she looked perfectly capable of killing someone as she stared at the two of them.

Oh…God. Her eyes. There wasn’t a white rim around her black iris, her glaring gaze nothing but a pair of pits that were as dark and bottomless as sinkholes.

Could that be right, though?

As the skin across the back of Marie-Terese’s neck tightened, the woman focused on her and smiled like an axe murderer who was looking at his next victim. “I saw your purse down on the dining room table, darling. Given how much money was next to it, I’d say your prices have gone through the roof. Congratulations.”

Vin’s hard voice sliced through the air. “How did you get in. I locked everything—”