He guided her into the elevator, and then they exited on the top floor. He tugged her down the hall, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

He led her into his bedroom and she blinked. She spared a quick glance at his modern, black iron four-poster bed, before she took two steps toward the open terrace doors.

It was a little cool to be out on the terrace, but Easton had needed it tonight.

“You can’t be serious with these views,” she breathed.

Easton went down on one knee in front of her, and heard her gasp. Then he helped her out of one high heel, then the other.

He looked up. She was staring at him like she couldn’t believe he was real.

He rose, took her hand, and led her onto the terrace.

He’d already liked the house for its size and investment potential, but this terrace had clinched the deal.

Small lanterns flickered, giving off a golden glow. A square hot tub was set off to the right, and a comfy seating area to the left.

She moved to the carved stone railing and leaned out, her eyes closed, and pulled in a deep breath of the night air.

Easton slipped his hands into his pockets and watched her.

Something in him finally settled for the first time in a very long time. He was most often driven to do, to move, but right now, he was happy to just watch a barefoot Harlow in his house.

Safe. Alive. In his domain.

She stared out to the shadowed Bay. Lights twinkled on the Golden Gate Bridge, and part of San Francisco lay before them, glimmering softly in the night.

“Must be nice to wake up to this,” she said.

“It is.”

Then she shivered.

He took her hand and led her to the outdoor couch. A blanket was folded over the back and he grabbed it, then draped it around her shoulders.

She sat and he reached for the bottle of cognac and glasses he’d left there earlier.

He poured two glasses and handed her one.

She eyed the amber fluid. “What is this?”

“Cognac.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Does it cost a gazillion dollars a bottle?”

“No.” He decided not to mention that it was closer to ten thousand.

She set her shoulders back, one hand gripping the blanket, then she tossed the drink down in one quick gulp. She swallowed and set the glass down on the table with a click. Then she sucked in a few breaths. “Yikes.”

Easton sipped his. “Feeling better?”

“Not really. Thank you for getting me out. Rhoda Pierce is…scary. Although she’s afraid of Vander.”

Easton set his own drink down and took her hand. “You shouldn’t have been taken at all.”

“Is Rome okay?”

“Beating himself up. He takes his job seriously.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I said I’d protect you—”