He steps off the stage to more applause, and I’m so proud of him for helping to jumpstart the career of these students, and proud to be a part of his company for doing good deeds like this, for giving back to the art community. I look around and see the beaming faces of the students and know without a doubt that we made in difference in their lives today. It feels great.

After the art show, St. Clair’s driver takes the scenic route along the Thames. I gaze out of the window, treated to a palette of colorful lights: the old buildings lit up, with the rainbow of the London Eye in an array of changing colors like a planetarium light show.

“Did you have fun tonight?” St. Clair asks. He takes my hand and squeezes it.

“I always have fun with you.” I realize how corny my answer sounds and cringe, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“I always have fun with you, too.” His reply is quiet, thoughtful. He seems contemplative for the rest of the drive, not really saying much until we’re back at his place again. There, St. Clair opens a bottle of wine, and we sit together on the couch.

“To another successful endeavor,” he says, raising his glass in a toast.

“To the show,” I agree, tapping my glass to his.

He takes a sip, still looking thoughtful. I wonder what’s going through his head. I start to get nervous. I’m not used to him being this way – not unless something’s wrong.

What if he knows I’ve been meeting Lennox?

My heart drops. Crap. If he knows about the clandestine meetings, he might think I’m betraying him. But isn’t that what I’m doing, the longer I entertain notions of him being the master criminal Lennox claims?

I sit, waiting, my heart beating faster, until finally St. Clair puts down his wine glass and looks at me straight on. The energy between us is all fired up from the night, from teasing each other and laughing the whole car ride home, but now I can’t get comfortable with him so close.

“Uh oh, you look serious. Should I be worried?”

He gives me a smile – not broad and flashy like the ones he gave everyone at the event tonight, but something private and sincere, just for me. “You make me happy, Grace.”

I gulp. Is this a break-up speech, or a ‘I know you’ve been meeting the feds behind my back’ speech, or what?

“I don’t often let people in,” he continues. “Well, more like never. It’s just easier that way, to keep focused on business, keep my personal life and professional worlds separate.”

Oh God, it is a break-up speech. I feel a pain in my chest, and I have to bite my lip to keep the tears from welling up.

“And then you came along. And everything I thought I knew went out the window.” St. Clair looks at me, and the tenderness in his eyes takes my breath away. “You’re like nobody I’ve ever met before, Grace. Your energy, your strength, your passion – for art, and the world around you. You haven’t let the world beat you down, you’ve kept striving for the life you want. You believe in the good in people. In me.”

He reaches down under the coffee table and pulls out a long black velvet box with a silver bow. I stare at it, dazed.

“I guess, I just wanted to show you what you mean to me.” St. Clair looks at me intently. “And when I saw this, I knew it belonged with you.”

He hands the box to me. With shaking fingers, I unwrap the bow and lift the lid open.

Oh my God.

I’m staring at the most incredible diamond necklace: a single perfect teardrop diamond pendant strung on a gorgeous gold chain. It’s absolutely breathtaking – and enormous.

“St. Clair,” I stutter. “I can’t…this is…”

“Don’t you like it?” his face falls.

“Are you kidding? I love it! But it’s too much, Charles—”

“Nonsense.” He smiles again. “It’s perfect for you.”

St. Clair takes the necklace and lifts it from the box. I turn, and my heart racing, and move my hair aside as he gently fastens the chain around my neck.

The diamond sits against my skin, sparkling, and perfect, and without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn.

“It’s incredible,” I whisper, still blown away.

He leans closer, and drops a kiss on the line of my shoulder. “So are you.”

I shiver, feeling the heat from his touch radiate through my body.

I turn, and find myself pressed up against him. He reaches out, and trails his fingertip around the diamond pendant – caressing my collarbone. My skin prickles with awareness, and when I look up, his eyes are fixed on mine. Dark and glittering. Midnight blue.

“I’m falling in love with you, Grace,” St. Clair murmurs, his voice deep with emotion. “I’ve been falling in love with you since the first time you spilled coffee on me.”

I feel like I’m in a dream. I hear his words, but they don’t sink in. I’m still in shock from the necklace, from his confession, from the way my body is leaning into him, eager for another tantalizing touch.

“Tell me you feel the same way,” St. Clair says, his voice turning urgent. His hand glides over my bare skin, caressing me, seducing me. Warmth radiates through my chest. “If you could ever think about loving a man like me.”

I realize what he’s saying now, and it blows me away. He thinks he’s the unworthy one? I cup his jaw with my hand. “Stop, Charles.” Calling him by his first name like this, our connection feels more intimate than ever. “You don’t have to do this. I love you, too.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. Wonder, and then fierce passion. He claims my mouth with a fierce kiss, all heat and strong possession.

This time there is no hesitation, and my whole body urges me forward, demanding I touch his skin to mine. I kiss his neck, unbuttoning his dress shirt slowly, moving my lips to each patch of revealed skin, kissing his chest and sliding my hands down his abs. I pull his shirt out and reach for his belt…

“Not yet,” he says and in one smooth move, he lifts me, hikes up my gown and wraps my legs around his waist.

“Oh,” I say, my groin flush with his, his growing erection making me shiver with anticipation as he carries me up the stairs to his bedroom.

He sets me on the edge of his bed and slips a finger under one strap of my dress, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses along my collarbone as he reaches around to unzip the back. His hands find my bare breasts, and I moan at his gentle caresses, growing stronger, teasing at my pebbled nipples.

He pulls away and strips off his pants, standing gloriously naked in front of me.

He takes my breath away. Chiseled from pure muscle, a body that would put Michelangelo’s masterpieces to shame. I drink in the smooth planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs, the trail of hair dragging my eyes down to the rigid line of his perfect cock.

And now he’s mine.

I pull him down to meet me, kissing hungrily as our bodies tangle in an erotic dance, our hips pressing hard against each other. The feel of his hot skin on mine is incredible, and as I press my lips against the pulse in his neck, his expert hands send me writhing and moaning beneath him, panting into his ear. He groans at my pleasure, and his fingers slip between my legs to stroke me, sliding inside me, thrusting so deep into my aching pussy it makes me cry out with the sensation.

I’m so wet, and so ready. God, I need him.

I reach for Charles, closing my hand around his hard length. He groans again, lower and deeper this time, and I thrill at the sound of his undoing. I tease him, toying until I can feel his cock throbbing hot in my grip, until his breath is ragged and he pulls my hand away, pressing my wrists back into the soft pillow above my head.

Holding me steady beneath him, never breaking eye contact, he thrusts inside. Slow, torturously sweet, inch by thick inch until he’s fully inside and we’re locked together.

“Grace,” he moans.