Richard's blood ran cold.
He knew that face.
Natalia Steele. The wife of Edward Steele.
For a moment, his mind refused to process what his eyes were seeing. He glanced back at the door, then at her again, certain he'd entered the wrong room. Certain this was some mistake.
But there was no mistake.
She sat on the bed, watching him with eyes that held no surprise. No shame. Only a quiet, predatory patience.
"Why so shocked?" Her voice was silk over steel. "No need to be so worked up."
She rose from the bed in one fluid motion, the sheet falling away as she moved toward him. Candlelight traced the lines of her body... curves that had haunted his peripheral vision for months, now bare and deliberate before him.
Richard's jaw tightened.
His mind raced. Was this a game? Had the old man arranged this? Was he being tested... or trapped?
But the sight of her stole his reason before it could take root.
