I took a breath to steel my nerves and approached the gate. “I…I’m here to see Fender.” There were half a dozen of them, all dressed in black with bulletproof vests over their clothes. They hadn’t seemed so scary from my bedroom window, but up close, they were terrifying.

The men spoke to one another in French before the one in charge stepped toward the gates to speak to me. “Who are you?”

“Melanie.”

“Is he expecting you?”

I shook my head. “But please, tell him it’s important.” Now that I was nobody, I couldn’t get to him anymore. He could deny me, and that would be the end of it. I’d have to go back to that apartment alone, accepting that I would never see my sister again.

He spoke into his intercom in French. “Une femme est là pour voir le patron.”

A voice spoke back. “Je n’attends personne. Son nom?”

He pressed his finger into his ear. “Melanie.” Then he listened over the line, waiting for orders.

Please let me in.

He motioned to his men, and then the gate opened.

Oh, thank god.

A guy in a golf cart pulled up then nodded for me to sit beside him.

I got into the passenger seat, and we began the long drive toward the palace, around the fountain, the winding road through the gardens and brush, and approached the entrance to his mansion.

I’d been scared every moment since those men had come to the apartment. But I was far more scared now.

Because he was there.

Standing out front.

Waiting for me.

On the very bottom step, where his valet would bring his car.

Shirtless. Black sweatpants. Barefoot.

It’d been a long time since I’d last seen his face, and his expression made me breathless, because instead of just being scared…I was sad. I was sad because I’d missed his face every day that we were apart. He’d literally just taken my sister out of our apartment…and I missed him.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

His gaze was dark and intense.

But it was more than that.

It was fierce.

Angry.

Terrifying.

The golf cart came to a stop in front of him. The driver didn’t look at Fender, keeping his eyes forward as he waited for me to get out so he could drive away. My breath was shaky and I was suddenly weak, but I forced myself to rise.

The driver took off the second my ass left the seat.

When the noise of the small motor faded, the only sound was the fountain behind me, the constant splash as the drops struck the surface and the lily pads that floated there. I stood in the driveway while he remained on the step, thicker and bulkier than he used to be, the cords in his arms and neck so tight they would snap.