I let my gaze linger on the various small treasures. Vases. Paintings. Fancy bric-a-brac. “I think he left behind some of the royal treasure. Wait, you’re serious?” I added, seeing the smug expression on his face.

“Cross my heart. A prince and a princess. They had a long-term lease, but decided not to renew when it came due about a year ago. The rumor is they’re going to spend a few years in a similar property in Paris.”

“So you decided that you needed to crash here after the engagement party? Soak up a little of that regal buzz?”

“Oh, it’s much worse than that,” he said. “I live here.”

I gaped at him. “Come again?”

“I needed a place to stay. And this was available. I love the convenience of living in a hotel. I love The Drake. And you have to admit, it’s got a stunning view.”

I glanced toward the window where Michigan Avenue’s lights twinkled like Peter Ustinov’s diamonds. “Yeah. It does.”

“Besides,” he added with a boyish grin, “it was too fucking cool to pass up.”

I laughed. “Can’t argue with that. But I thought you ran more contemporary. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who compromises on what he wants.”

“No,” he said, looking at me so intently I wasn’t sure if we were still talking about the room. Then his face cleared and he smiled. “But I’m only leasing the place for another six months.”

“And then?”

“Then I’ll see where the wind blows.”

“Away from Chicago?”

“No. I love it here. I grew up here.”

“Then surely you already have a house?” From my research, I knew he owned several properties across the city, and his current residence was listed in Old Irving Park. I was curious, though, what he was going to say.

“I did,” he said. “An awesome Victorian that I refurbished.”

“Did?” I repeated. “You sold it? Like a flip?”

“I still own it. But I won’t be moving back in.”

“No?” I moved to the couch and sat down. I leaned back, feeling more comfortable and at ease than I’d anticipated, all things considered.

“Sounds like there’s a story there. Care to share?”

“Let’s just say that I’m a sucker for a woman in need.”

“I’m intrigued. Tell me the rest.”

For a moment, I thought he would. Then he slowly shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so. I rather enjoy being the dark and brooding man of mystery.”

“You don’t seem dark to me,” I said, and I meant it. Oh, I had no doubt he had his hands in a number of illicit pies. And he definitely had an edge. I’d seen it myself when he’d rescued me from Reggie. But Tyler Sharp was a charmer at the core. Sophisticated. Smart. A hustler, not a thug.

“Everyone has a dark side,” he said. “Some people just hide it better than others.”

“That’s a rather pessimistic view of the world,” I countered.

“You disagree?”

I thought of my own dark side and the things that I kept hidden. I thought of my stepfather, and how the world had seen a hero when I had seen a monster.

“No,” I admitted. “I don’t.”

“And that sounds like a story as well. Don’t worry,” he added. “I’m not going to ask you to reveal your secrets.” His mouth curved up in the faintest of smiles. “Not yet, anyway. But I am going to ask you to do something else for me.”

He’d taken a step toward me as he spoke, and his voice took on a low, commanding quality. “Stand up, Sloane. Stand up, and take off your clothes.”

Chapter Eight

I had to take a deep breath and replay the words back in my head. “My clothes,” I said stupidly. “You want me to take off my clothes?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, as his gaze drifted over me with the same gleam of anticipation as a man about to unwrap a present. “I want it very much. But first things first. Stand up, Sloane.”

He held his hand out, gesturing for me to rise. I complied, though my legs were a bit unsteady, and once I was upright, he turned away from me and picked up the house phone. I heard him hit the button for the operator and then speak to someone, but the conversation was too fast and too low for me to make out.

Throughout it all, I simply stood there, a little shocked, a little frazzled, and, yes, more than a little aroused.

When he turned back, his eyes were flat, and his mouth curved down in the slightest of frowns. “My rules, Sloane. And though we got a little sidetracked, you did say that you wanted to play.”

I swallowed, but I lifted my chin. My body was flush, my skin hot. My fingers twitched as if reaching for my weapon, but at the same time I could imagine the dress sliding to the floor. Me stepping out of it, going to him, and folding myself in his arms.

Could imagine it—the touch of his mouth upon my breast, the caress of his fingers over my sex—and wanted it.

I was nervous. I was overwhelmed. But god help me, I was desperately turned on.

But we were playing a game now, and I wasn’t ready to concede victory quite yet.

For a moment, we just stood there at an impasse. Then he took a single step toward me.

“There are consequences for breaking the rules.”

I shivered as memories sliced through me, potent enough to cut me to pieces. Consequences. Yes, there damn sure were. But I wasn’t a child anymore. And I wasn’t hiding. Not now. This wasn’t about pain or about fear or about monsters who hid in the dark.

“Sloane?”

That was all he said, just my name. But I heard the worry underneath it. I didn’t want that—didn’t want him wondering about the secrets I held close, and didn’t want him backing off now, afraid that he’d pushed too far. That I’d changed my mind.

I hadn’t.

No matter what else, I wanted this. And not because of Amy. Not because I’d planned an op. But because I liked the way he made me feel, and because I wanted more. Break the rules? Yeah, where Tyler was concerned, I think that’s exactly what I wanted to do.

I lifted my head, managed a teasing smile. “Consequences?” I repeated. Slowly, I dragged my teeth over my lower lip. “Are you going to punish me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’d say that’s a fair assumption.”

His eyes roamed over me, the worry now gone, replaced by control and anticipation. We were playing now, and knowing that sent swirls of heat reeling through me.

“I wonder if that sweet ass of yours has ever been spanked.”

Oh. I felt an unexpected tingle at his words, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, I casually lifted a brow. “So that’s the fetish.”

“No. Just a delight.”

The dark intensity of his voice kicked casual out the window, and that tingling increased to a low vibrato. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Wouldn’t you?” He closed the distance between us, then stopped in front of me, so close I caught the scent of him. The fading earthiness of his cologne was overpowered now by a sensual musk that made me want to lean closer and taste him.

“Interesting. And I like knowing that mine will be the first hand to redden that sweet backside,” he continued, as he reached behind me to briefly stroke my rear through the thin material of the dress.