Hell.

“Send me what you have,” I snap.

Fucking paparazzi!

A moment later his e-mail pops up in my inbox, and I read the attachment quickly. Grudgingly, I admit he might be right. It’s not that bad, and the photographs of Ana are okay, if grainy. But they also have her yearbook photo. She looks cute. And young. I call him. “Let me think about this.”

At the new house, we follow Gia Matteo through each room. “I love the staircase,” she enthuses. “I’m not surprised you want to retain it.” She beams at me as if it were my idea.

Sweetheart. I wanted to knock this house down and build something new. It’s Ana who has fallen in love with the old place.

“I love the period features,” Ana asserts.

Gia flashes her a smile. “Of course,” she says. We follow her into the main living area. Elliot hangs back; he’s uncharacteristically quiet, and I wonder if it’s because he has a sexual history with Ms. Matteo—I don’t know. She’s vocal, with some out-of-the-box ideas, and I remember meeting her briefly when she did the renovation to my house in Aspen. She did a fantastic job on that.

“I love this room,” Gia says when we enter the main living room. “It has an airy quality that I think we should embrace.” She reaches over and pats my arm.

Damn.

I’ve spent my life subtly maneuvering myself out of anyone’s reach. It’s a self-defense mechanism that I’ve cultivated over the years to keep people out of my space and make them back the hell off. A step here, a slide to the side there, angling my shoulders left or right to avoid physical contact, I have it down to a fine art. I hate to be touched. No. I fear it. Except by Ana, of course. Kickboxing has helped. I can tolerate the rough and tumble of a match and a firm handshake…or the bite of a cane or lash.

Don’t think about that.

But that’s it.

In addition, I’ve developed a fuck-off-don’t-touch-me glare that’s proven effective.

However, not on Gia Matteo.

She’s fucking touchy-feely.

It’s irritating.

And not only with me. She reaches out to Elliot as he enters the main living room and gives him what can only be described as a carnal smile as she takes his arm. Elliot gapes at her cleavage, which is on show for all of us. Ana notices, and I see a frown cross her face. I wonder if what my brother says about Ms. Matteo is true. She’s a woman who doesn’t take no for an answer, one of those overtly sexual, tactile women who disregards all boundaries.

A bit like Elena.

The unpleasant thought pops into my head and makes me a pause. I don’t remember Gia being that way when we met a couple of years ago.

Stop overthinking this, Grey.

But as we walk through the house I find myself putting as much distance as I can between her and me.

“A glass wall would be amazing at this end of the room,” Gia says. “It will really open out this whole space.”

Ana smiles, but keeps her counsel and takes my hand.

Taylor weaves through the evening traffic back to Escala.

“What did you think?” I ask Ana.

“Of Gia?”

I nod.

“The Gia show,” she says.

“Yeah. She has a lot of personality. But she had some great ideas, and we’ve seen her portfolio. It’s impressive.”

Ana bursts out laughing. “Yes. Her impressive portfolio was on full display.”

I laugh. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Ana arches a brow. And I laugh again and take her hand. “Thank you for being funny,” I whisper, and kiss her knuckles. “What do think? Should we find someone else?”

“She did have some good ideas.” Ana sounds almost begrudging, but she smiles. “Let’s see what she comes back with.”

“Agreed. Shall we go out to eat? We’ve been cooped up enough at Escala.”

“Is it safe?”

“I think so.” I turn and catch Taylor’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Columbia Tower, please, Taylor.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mile High Club?” I suggest to Ana.

“Suits me.”

I clasp her hand.

“I did like her idea for opening up the view from the back of the house,” Ana says.

“Yes. Me, too, but we’re in no rush.”

She smiles once more. “I love your ivory tower.”

“I love having you there.”

Her eyes meet mine and her expression is suddenly serious. “I’m glad, because you’re about to commit to having me there for a lifetime.”

Whoa. I swallow.

This is huge.

A whole lifetime with Anastasia…will it be enough?

“Good point, well made, Miss Steele.”

And from nowhere I’m overwhelmed with a depth of feeling that has become all too familiar, but it’s still new and shiny and terrifying. I’m happier than I’ve ever been before—but I’m afraid, too.

It could all end.

Everything could come crashing down.

Life is ephemeral.

I know this. I’ve lived it.

From nowhere the image of a pale, still, young woman comes to mind. She’s lying on a grubby rug in a grubbier room as a small child tries in vain to shake her awake.

Shit.

The crack whore.

No. Don’t think about her!

Reaching over, I take Ana’s face between my hands, memorizing every detail: the shape of her nose, her full lower lip, her stunning eyes. I want her with me for a lifetime. I close my eyes and kiss her, pouring all my fear into her.