Melissa turned and stared at the Rossini party. "How fascinated you are by the countess," she said. "Or is it that handsome Englishman she seems so enamored of?"
Annabel could hardly breathe. "A rich Italian widow hardly fascinates me." She forced herself to eat.
"I am fascinated by the countess," Lizzie interjected a bit too quickly. "Imagine being that beautiful, and having so many men falling all over themselves for your attention!" She shot Annabel a warning look. Her cheeks were highly flushed.
"You are that beautiful, and your hardly need more than one man falling all over himself for your attention," Adam said. "And that man is myself."
Lizzie smiled at her husband. He smiled back at her. Annabel watched them, wondering what it would be like to be so cherished by a wonderful man-and to cherish him in return. She did not dare look at Braxton again. But she had to face her innermost feelings. She wanted Braxton to be that enamored of her, the way Adam was of Lizzie, so much so that he would hardly glance at another woman.
She reminded herself that he was going to burglarize the countess, and then he would be on his way. If he was not caught, that is.
And if he did escape, then she would never see him again.
And suddenly Annabel felt as if she were on the vast precipice of life. The future loomed before her, a huge and dark void. Alone, she thought. She would forever be alone.
Unless she took her destiny into her own hands.
She lurked in the shadows at the end of the hall. It was close to two in the morning, and the last of the hotel's festive-minded guests had gone to bed-except for the countess and Braxton.
Annabel had been hiding on the hotel's top floor for over two hours, waiting for them to retire. She heard the elevator whirring and stiffened, crouching down low. She was rewarded when the elevator's brass door opened and Braxton escorted the countess out. She was exquisite in a red lace evening gown, but she was also tipsy, and clinging firmly to his arm.
Annabel bit her lip hard, tears stinging her eyes, thinking how easy it would be for him to seduce her now, let her fall asleep, and make off with her jewels. Her heart hurt.
The countess was laughing huskily at something he had said. She could not seem to find her keys in her beaded purse, and she swayed a bit on her black satin high-heeled shoes.
"Allow me," he said with a smile. In a moment he had found her keys and opened the door to her suite.
She smiled at him, poised to enter her apartments.
"Good night, Guilia," he said.
Annabel's eyes widened in shock.
"Pierce? Surely you wish to come in?" The countess was as surprised as Annabel.
He smiled again and tilted up her chin. "My darling lady, I have no wish to be dangled upon your strings like the other men you collect."
Her eyes widened, and then she smiled, rubbing his chest beneath his black dinner jacket. "Do I dangle men?" she purred.
"You do."
"Perhaps it would be so very enjoyable for both of us," she whispered, staring up at him.
"I imagine so, but in truth, Linville is smitten with you, Guilia, and you would be foolish to throw such a gentleman away. His intentions, I believe, are honorable. Unlike mine," he added wryly.
She stared. "You amaze me."
He laughed, kissed her lips lightly. "Good night."
"Good night, Pierce," she said.
Annabel continued to watch them, no longer shocked but elated. The countess disappeared behind her closed door. Pierce turned and sauntered down the hall, back
toward the elevator. He seemed to be in exceedingly good spirits.
As was Annabel. She grinned to herself, and a chuckle escaped her.
Pierce froze in mid-stride.
Annabel shrank back against the wall.
He turned. And he saw her immediately.
His expression was comical. His eyes went wide.
There was no point in hiding anymore, so Annabel straightened, her heart pounding like a damnable drum. Her color, she knew, was high. He strode forward. "Well, well," he said, his gaze taking in her appearance. "So you have gained employment in the hotel as a housemaid?"
Annabel thought she blushed again. She was wearing a black dress with a white apron, borrowed from the laundry room. "This is a disguise."
He folded his arms and chuckled.
"How are you going to rob her if you do not sleep with her?" Annabel asked very directly.
His smile vanished. "That idea is highly repugnant. How little you think of me."
"But you have to get inside her apartments, and she has locked the door."
He smiled at her.
"Oh." Annabel smiled back, suddenly feeling quite happy. "A locked door hardly interferes, I do see."
"Perhaps what I want is not in her suite," Pierce said softly. He stared directly at her, his smile gone.
Annabel understood. She did not move.
Pierce suddenly shook his head, as if catching himself in an unplanned act. "Go back to your rooms, Annabel. And back to bed. I have work to do."
Now she started. "So it is tonight." Which explained his good mood, she thought.
"Yes." He stared.
"Let me help."
"That is out of the question." "Why?"
"You will cause me to bungle the job."
"That is not fair," Annabel said angrily.. "But it is true. You would only distract me. And I have a partner."
Annabel did not know what to say. So she spoke the truth. "I will never see you again after tonight."
He hesitated. "It would be unlikely."
She crossed her arms, hugging herself.
For a long moment, he did not speak. "You are wearing your heart upon your sleeve-for me to see."
It was hard to speak. "I don't care," she said hoarsely.
"Annabel, this is insane." His gaze was glued to hers. His facial muscles were set and tensed.
She swallowed with difficulty. "What is insane?" – - "This." And he swept her into his arms.
Annabel could hardly believe he was kissing her, that finally, after two horribly long, endless and lonely years, she was in his embrace. His mouth claimed and held hers. She gripped his shoulders, his back, her mouth tearing at his. How unbearable, how good, this was.
And then his lips were on the soft underside of her throat. Annabel's hands were in his hair. Her back was against the wall. His palms slid over her breasts. His mouth, kissing and nibbling on her throat, finally found a tiny area of exposed flesh on her collarbone. It was sheer and wonderful torture.
He pulled her hard against him, burying his face in her hair, groaning.
"Don't stop. Please, Pierce, I will never see you again!" Annabel cried.
He pulled away from her, only to clasp her face with his strong hands. Their gazes locked. "I want you," he said.
There was a soft rapping on the door.
Annabel lay naked in Pierce's arms in his bed. She was panting, her heart just beginning to slow from their frenzied and rushed lovemaking. He had not even moved off her, and like herself, was breathing quickly and harshly. The knocking came again. It was soft and low, but insistent.
For one instant, his arms tightened around her. Then he slid off her and sat up.
Annabel became lucid. She could guess who was knocking on his door at perhaps two-thirty or three o'clock in the morning, and she sat up, clutching the covers to her chest. Pierce stood, reaching for his drawers, which he stepped into. He strode to the door and opened it.
"Guv, wot yar doing? Did you forgit we 'ave a job to do this night?" Louie asked in a low tone of voice.
"I do believe I briefly lost my head," Pierce said wryly. "With good cause." And he looked over his shoulder and smiled at Annabel.
Annabel could not smile back. This was happening too swiftly. She did not move.
That was when Louie saw her and his mouth dropped open. "Guvnor, it's late. We got to get going. Forget 'er."
Pierce stepped aside so Louie could enter the room, and he quickly dressed. His expression had changed, hardening. Watching him, Annabel felt the glow of their glorious lovemaking vanish, replaced by dismay, dread, and fear. "I want to help. At least let me keep watch."
"No." Pierce buttoned his white shirt deftly, slipping on his jacket.
Annabel stared, and then she flung aside the covers and stepped from the bed. Louie cried out. Pierce whirled.
Annabel leapt into her drawers and chemise. "I am going to help!" she cried.
And for one instant, as Pierce stared, she thought his gaze was admiring, and knew it had nothing to do with her body. Then he stepped to her and gripped her shoulders. "No. I know you are headstrong and brave, but not this time, Annabel."
"What if she wakes up and catches you while you are robbing her?"
He flung on his jacket, and as he did so, Annabel saw it was the one with the specially sewn interior pockets. Then he bent over the trunk and produced a small black satchel from it. Annabel realized he was about to leave, without answering her, and frantically she shimmied into her black dress. Would he abandon her once again without even a good-bye?
But if he did, it would be her own fault, for allowing this to happen-and for not seizing her own fate.
She was so upset, she could not do up more than a single button. "Goddamn it!" she cried.
He paused at the door, and when he finally turned, his face was grim. Annabel had not taken her eyes off him, even as she tried to struggle with the damned buttons on the back of her dress. Their gazes clashed and locked.
Pierce dropped the satchel. He strode to her, grabbed her and kissed her hard. "Good-bye," he said, his gaze intense.
"No!" Annabel said.
He retrieved the satchel and, without a backward glance, moved to the door. Annabel knew he was about to exit not just the room, but her life, and that this time it would be forever. She knew she must act.
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