The back of his neck sprung out in a cold sweat. This whole week, he’d managed to remember to pay cash wherever they went, and in small denominations, not wanting to flash around his Amex or the amount of paper money he typically carried around. He’d opened his wallet up under tables or behind the cover of his jacket or his sleeve. He’d been so damn careful about it. And now here he was, flipping the thing open in the clear light of day and right under her nose.

His pulse raced. Play it cool. Hanging on to the tickets, he slipped his wallet into his pocket. “So? Want to brave the crowds again?”

She just kept staring at his hands.

“Kate?”

She shook her head, snapping out of it. “Huh? Oh, um. Nah. Though, I guess I wouldn’t mind looking around the gardens? It’s such a nice day, and we came all the way out here.”

He had to stifle a sigh of relief. He still couldn’t quite escape the feeling that she’d seen through him, but until she brought it up, he sure as hell wasn’t going to. With a smile, he held out his arm for her to take. “Lead on, my lady.”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow readily enough. But there was something contemplative to the way she kept glancing at him as they walked. Like she was looking at him just a little bit too closely.

Lots of different credit cards looked the same.

Kate reminded herself of that on a loop, every time the niggling bit of suspicion tickled at the back of her mind. She didn’t even know what a Black Amex looked like—how would she? But if it was as literal as it sounded . . . Well, then what else could it have been?

She snuck a peek up at him. They’d walked a decent stretch of the gardens around the palace now—hopefully enough of it to make him feel a little bit better about things. She was just starting to think about broaching the idea of heading back to the city.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm before she could turn around. “Hey.” He pulled out his phone with his other hand. “Remember this trick?”

With that, he tugged her in, tucking her under his arm the way he had outside the Louvre on their very first day together.

Something nervous fluttered in her chest. “When you convinced me to take a selfie as a flimsy excuse to get your arm around me?”

“Yup. Say cheese.”

She smiled the best she could, but as she did, she was looking at his phone. It was a new model. Fancy. Expensive.

She shook the thought from her head once he’d taken the shot. He let her go and flicked back to see if the picture had come out all right. When he found it, he smiled, turning the phone to show it to her. “We look good, right?”

They did. Tense but good. She nodded.

He twisted his phone around to get both thumbs on it, holding it as if to type. “You never did give me your email address, you know.”

She did know that. “Oh. Right.”

“Do you not want the pictures?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, I do.” It made her nervous for some reason. As if giving him a way to contact her crossed a line. Ridiculous, considering all the other lines they’d merrily waltzed past without a second glance. Fighting down the fidgety feeling, she rattled it off to him.

He typed it in and nodded. “Ta-da. Sent.”

“So now I’ve got your address, too.”

“Yup.”

She hadn’t checked her email since she’d left the hostel. She should probably make a point of doing that soon, just in case. Without really thinking about where she was going, she started walking again.

“So.” He fell into step beside her. “Anything else you want to see here?”

She hadn’t particularly wanted to see anything here in the first place. “Not really.”

“May I make a suggestion?” His usual cockiness had simmered down a notch. It sounded like a real question.

“You may.”

“I say we catch a train back to Paris. Have dinner. My treat.”

He’d offered to treat enough times this week. She’d practically lost count.

She was counting again now. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He nudged her shoulder with his own. “Come on, let me apologize for . . . this.” He waved his hand around.

This. Which he had also paid for.

Her heart was in her throat. “What did you have in mind? Dinner-wise?”

Shrugging, he steered them toward the main gates. “I haven’t taken you to a real French restaurant yet. What do you say? Escargot? Cassoulet? Foie gras?” His voice lilted up, his flawless accent kicking in.

The one he’d acquired following his parents around Europe when he’d been a kid.

God. The itch of a suspicion turned into a tide of realization, her heart thumping hard against her chest. All that stuff about hostels and splitting the cost of a hotel room—had it all been a trick? If so, she’d fallen for it. He must think she was such an idiot.

“Can we just head back to the hotel first?” She needed to get her legs back under her.

Concern crossed his features. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

But when he tried to put his arm around her again, she couldn’t relax into it.

All day long, ever since she’d slipped out of his bed this morning, she’d been thinking she had to protect her heart.

Maybe she should have been protecting more than that. Maybe she should have been protecting it from the start.

chapter TWENTY-TWO

Rylan managed to wait until the door of their hotel room was closing behind them before he rounded on her. And shit, he could actually feel his father’s boardroom training taking over. Making him keep his distance. Making his face hard.

Just like his dad, when Rylan or his siblings or his mom had disappointed him.

What the hell else was he supposed to do, though? Kate hadn’t exactly refused to touch him the whole way home, but fuck if it hadn’t been the longest train ride of his life. Her, sitting right beside him, hand held loosely in his until she took it away to fidget with her nails, her hair, her bag. She forced him to reach for her when he wanted to touch her again—never offered contact herself. The entire time, they’d spoken maybe a dozen times.

Regret was eating at him, but it was slowly shifting into something angrier. He never should have pressured her into spending the day with him. He definitely shouldn’t have suggested Versailles.

He should have put the tickets someplace other than his wallet.

It didn’t seem like it could be that simple, but she’d gotten all closed off right after he’d flashed the damn thing in front of her. He didn’t need to be a detective to figure it out.

He closed his eyes and curled his hands into fists, taking three deep breaths before staring across the room at her. Last night, everything had seemed perfect. And now it had come to this.

Fuck it.

“Say it.” He tore his jacket off and tossed it in the corner with the rest of his things. “Whatever you’re thinking. Just say it.”

She’d been facing away from him, rummaging through her bag, but at the harsh sound of his voice, she shoved the thing aside, sending it clattering to the floor. The violence of it startled him, and his heart squeezed as she set her hands on the edge of the desk. Dropped her head and drew her shoulders up.

“Who are you?” She didn’t look at him until the question was out of her mouth, and even then, she didn’t turn. Just twisted her neck to gaze at him with dark, sad eyes.

His heart rose up into his throat. “What do you mean?”

The whole thing was choking him, the irony making it hard to breathe. Yes, he’d hidden the details of his life from her. But in these spare handful of days, he’d shown her all these other things. Parts of himself that people who knew a lot more of the facts had never seen. Parts he’d never shown to anyone before.

“I mean,” she said slowly, “who are you?”

“You know.”