Chapter 347: Hot Water*

The kitchen was quiet except for the freezer, humming behind Damien’s back.

Aria set the phone down on the counter beside her. On the screen, the ruby lay next to the jeweler’s loupe, and under it, the last line.

Leo came to the counter to read it. Jade came with him, close at his shoulder.

Leo lowered the ice.

“Something you love,” he read. He said it lightly, the way he said everything, but his good eye stayed on the screen.

Damien was already on his phone.

He spoke French, low and quick. Aria caught Leo’s name, then “Aubert,” then “six.” He hung up and dialed again.

“Ken.” He switched to English. “Go back to the chateau. Men are coming tonight. Tell Séverine before they get there.” He listened. “Now.”

He hung up and slid the phone into his pocket.

“The chateau,” Aria said. “The kids.”

“Everyone she can reach,” Damien said.

Jade turned around. “And him?”

“Four on his door.”

“I’ve had worse security,” Leo said. “An hour ago I had a bag.”

Aria slid down off the counter. She took the dish towel of ice out of his hand, refolded it so the cold side faced out, and gave it back.

“Ice,” she said. “Then bed. You’re asleep in ten minutes, or I’m calling the doctor back.”

“She was scary.”

“She was. Go.”

He made it to the door and turned, one arm around his ribs.

“Sister Aria. I’m sorry about your ring.”

“Don’t be,” Aria said. “Damien’s getting it back.”

Leo’s eye went to Damien. Damien was looking at Aria.

Leo smiled with the good side of his mouth. Jade took his elbow and walked him upstairs.

Aria stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked down at herself. The hems of her jeans were still damp, and her sneakers had dried stiff with salt. She smelled like the bottom of the dock.

“Upstairs,” Damien said.

***

The bathroom at the end of the hall was white stone, with a deep tub set under a window that looked out over black water and the scattered lights of the islands.

Damien ran the bath. He tested it with the inside of his left wrist and kept the taped hand up out of the way.

Aria sat on the edge of the tub and toed off her sneakers. They hit the tiles with a wet slap.

She took the rusted key out of her coat pocket and set it on the counter by the sink, where she could see it.

Then Damien took over. He slid the coat off her shoulders and hung it on the back of the door. He drew her sweater up over her head. The jeans fought him, damp and clinging, and he worked them down her legs while she held on to his shoulders.

He was careful about it.

“You too,” she said.

He tried to undress one-handed. She ended up doing his buttons for him.

The water was hot enough to sting. She sank into it to her chin, and the smell of rust lifted off her skin. Damien got in behind her, pulled her back against his chest, and laid his right arm along the rim of the tub.

“Keep that dry,” she said.

“I am.”

He took a washcloth and ran it over her shoulders, down one arm and up the other. Then he reached past her hip, caught her ankle, and lifted her foot out of the water.

He dug his thumb into the arch.

Aria groaned out loud.

“I stood in that water for ten minutes,” she said. “My feet still think I’m in it.”

He worked the arch, then the heel, then her other foot, until her whole body had gone soft against him.

Out past the window, a light moved on the sea. A boat, far out, heading for the islands.

She watched it.

“She has a picture of us on the terrace,” Aria said. “She doesn’t have to guess what I love.”

Damien’s thumb stopped on her heel.

“I watched you stand at the top of those steps tonight with her people looking at you,” she said. “Right out in the open. The whole time I was down there.”

“I was looking at you.”

She turned her head on his shoulder. He was close enough that she could see the water caught in his lashes.

She kissed him.

It started slow. He let go of her foot, and his hand came up out of the water and settled flat on her stomach, holding her against him. She reached back and curled her fingers into his wet hair. When she opened her mouth under his, his breath caught.

His hand moved up. He cupped her breast and drew his thumb across the nipple, back and forth, until it tightened and she arched into his palm. He kissed the side of her throat. Then the hinge of her jaw.

“Damien.”

“Mm.”

His hand slid down over her ribs, over her stomach, and between her thighs.

He touched her slowly, two fingers circling her clit, light enough that she had to chase it. She hooked one leg over his knee to open herself to him, and the water rocked against the sides of the tub. He slid a finger inside her. Then two. He curled them and pressed the heel of his hand against her, and she gasped and gripped his forearm with both hands.

“There,” she whispered. “Right there.”

He kept it there. The same slow rhythm, the same steady pressure, his mouth at her ear and his breathing gone rough, until the heat gathered low in her belly and she came with a soft, broken cry. Her hips jerked against his hand, and water slopped over the rim onto the stone.

He held her through it. When she sagged against him, he eased his fingers out and laid his hand on her stomach again.

She could feel him hard against the small of her back.

“Give me five minutes,” she mumbled. “Then it’s your turn.”

“Five minutes.”

She closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she was in bed.

The sheets were cool. Her hair lay damp across the pillow, and Damien sat on the edge of the mattress with a towel around his hips, squeezing the ends of her hair dry with another one.

“Did I fall asleep in the bath?”

“Yes.”

“Before your turn.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He set the towel on the nightstand.

Her phone lay on the nightstand beside the towel. She reached for it. 10:52 p.m. Nothing from Elias.

She turned the volume all the way up and laid the phone back down, screen up, where the light would wake her.

Damien switched off the lamp and got in beside her. She took his good hand in the dark and pulled his arm across her waist.

“I owe you,” she said into the pillow.

“I’ll collect.”

She was asleep before he finished settling.

The phone woke her.

The room was dark. Damien was already sitting up with it in his hand, the screen lighting his face.

He held it out to her.

“Elias.”