His lips are on my chin, my cheek, and then my mouth as we continue to rock. I grind against him, circling my hips, raising the intensity for both of us. I feel him tensing as my orgasm overwhelms me. It’s the intimacy that does it. It makes me forget about the compounding lies and the schemes.

Here, naked on this table, in an office building with people walking up and down the halls outside, here with my enemy deep inside me . . . here I feel safe.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt safe.

The feeling goes to my head, sharpens my passion and lust as I move against him, as he holds me firmly in his hands. I press my mouth against his neck to muffle my cry as he comes in me, filling me, bringing our dance to a graceful close.

For a moment we just continue to lie there, holding each other. For a moment I forget my plans, forget where I am. I forget all the lies.

Until he whispers that one word, “Bellona.”

And that’s when I open my eyes, release my grip, and pull sheepishly away.

Because that’s who he’s making love to: an imaginary woman. A goddess made up of nothing but myths and legends. That’s who he can’t resist. He doesn’t know the first thing about me.

In the end it was just a false sense of safety . . .

. . . just like it always is.

chapter twenty

On my walk from the subway station to home, I stop to see Mary and hand her a plastic bag from Duane Reade. “Three Crunchy Peanut Butter Clif Bars, one Smartwater, one Strawberry Shortcake coloring book, colored pencils, and a new sharpener,” I say proudly.

“Aren’t you nice!” she says. She reaches for the food first. “Crunchy Peanut Butter’s good . . . but Apricot’s my favorite.”

I start to say something, but she nods over toward my apartment building. “There’s one of ’em fancy cars parked down there. You think the president’s come for a visit?”

I follow her gaze and see that there is in fact a limo in front of my apartment building.

That’s not normal. It’s a little smaller than Lander’s limo, so it’s not him, thank God. I don’t want him to know where I live. Still, its presence here is odd.

“Mary, I gotta go,” I say distractedly as I walk toward the car.

“Hey, how’d you know my name?” she calls out behind me, but I keep walking. As I get a little closer I can see that there’s a small dent near the back of the driver’s side, giving this luxury ride a little roughness.

I slow my pace as I watch the back door open, and a large, bald man wearing a suit that almost succeeds in hiding all his tattoos steps out.

I know this man.