All of Me (Inside Out #5.5)(5)

“Which is an American holiday and not celebrated here, but we can find some way to make it special.”

“What do you normally do?”

“If I’m in the States, Katie and Mike insist I join them. If I’m here, I skip it. And you?”

I feel a little twist in my gut. “Last year Ella and I went out to dinner and to a movie.”

“We’re still searching for her, baby,” Chris assures me, tracing my jaw with a finger, and his tender promise eases a tiny bit of the ache inside me. “But Rey is concerned about Neville’s mob connections. He can’t dig deep enough without risking putting himself and us at risk. He wants to bring in a third party to go deeper.”

“What third party?”

“A group that operates off the grid and does jobs other people won’t. Blake’s using Walker’s FBI and DEA connections to find out more about them. I don’t want us in bed with people we don’t trust.”

“How soon will we know if we can use them?”

“Blake is buried in the hunt for Ava, but he assures me he’s on it.”

“Thank you. I feel like I need to do more for her.” The truth is, I’m afraid that it’s already too late to help Ella—like it was for Rebecca.

His voice softens. “Let’s go out to the chateau for Thanksgiving and get away from all of this. We can make it a new tradition. We’ll get you an office set up out there, too, for the times we’re there and you want to work.”

“I’ve barely gotten started on my business.”

“Now’s the time. We’re here, and we’re not wrapped up in the middle of a police investigation anymore. You can focus on what you love: art.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby. That’s why I want you to make your dreams come true.”

My heart feels squeezed by the bond I have with Chris. “You are so unlike the men in my past. I love how you always give me power over myself.”

His lips quirk. “Except in bed.”

I laugh. “Yes. Except in bed.”

His cell phone rings on the nightstand and he sighs, sitting up and letting the sheets fall to his waist as he glances at the screen. He doesn’t react—Chris never does—but I sense, rather than see, the tension ripple through him. He turns his back, and my mind races with the possible news this phone call could bring. Ava has hurt someone. Ella is . . . dead.

I sit on my legs, ankles at my backside, holding my breath, listening.

“You bet he’s handled,” Chris replies tightly. “I didn’t leave it to you this time. I handled it—which means it’s handled.” There is a beat of silence. “She’s with me. That should answer that question.”

She who? Me?

“She’s not a target, and since when do you give a f*ck?”

I suddenly know he’s talking to my father, and it’s as if a knife has been shoved into my chest. I turn and scoot over to the opposite edge of the bed from Chris and grab the pink silk robe I’d dropped there last night, slipping it on as I walk to the huge windows to my right. Pulling back the heavy drapes, I attempt to look out of the fogged window where rain pounds on the glass.

“She’s not,” Chris says. “No. That’s not an issue.”

I drop the curtain and turn to find Chris still facing the other way, which tells me he isn’t comfortable having this conversation in front of me. I don’t like it. I never like anything to do with my father, and I sure don’t want Chris involved with him. I rush across the room and down the stairs to the open living area, and detour to the cute spare bathroom with mahogany cabinets and a big white teardrop sink, intent on staying busy and not letting myself think.

Leaving the door open in case Chris comes looking for me, I open the medicine chest and silently thank the once-weekly maid for the supplies inside, washing my face and then brushing my teeth and my hair. I don’t know why Chris talking to my father bothers me so much, but it does. I know Chris is protecting me; that’s what he does. But my father despises the life I’ve created, one that doesn’t require his dictation.

I’m about to head to the kitchen to make coffee when I turn to find Chris standing in the doorway, his elbows resting on the door frame, his torso bare, faded jeans slung low on his lean hips. “Why are you down here?” he asks, his eyes a little too keen.

My lashes lower and lift as I turn to face him. “I know that was my father.”

“Yes. He was reassuring me that Michael was fired. Michael’s stock in your father’s company came with stipulations your father fully enforced to keep him away from you in the future. He heard about Ava. He wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I laugh bitterly. “He doesn’t care if I’m okay. He’s just afraid this might cause a scandal for him in some way.”

He pulls me to him, stroking my hair as my hands settle on his chest. “Don’t let him upset you. And for what it’s worth, his concern came out awkwardly sincere.”

I press on his chest, leaning back to study him. “Tell me you aren’t defending him! He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. Either he wants something or he’s protecting himself.”

“I’m not defending him. But you deserve to know everything and to make your own decisions.”