I Belong to You (Inside Out #5)

I Belong to You (Inside Out #5)

Lisa Renee Jones




      To Julie Patra Harrison, my Oriental Shorthair kitkat.

When I’m living inside a book, she never leaves my side.





Acknowledgments

I am truly blessed to do what I love and to call writing books my “job.” I want to thank my readers for making that possible. For the many fans who have joined my street team, The Underground Angels: I am humbled by your support.

Melissa, Emily, Rae, Alyssa, and Aemelia. You ladies have been with me in very special ways. Thank you! Faith and Lisa, the Read Along project was a huge success because of you ladies!

To the entire staff of Gallery Books, thank you for all you do! I want to give special thanks to Louise Burke and Jennifer Bergstrom for helping develop my career. To my editor, Micki Nuding, who believed in me first and made it all happen: There aren’t enough words. You are supportive, insightful, and special in ways I know every author you work with understands.

To Louise Fury, my agent, who is always thinking out of the box, who listens and communicates, and who believes in me even if I forget to believe in me. You rock!

Finally, my husband, who thankfully never expected me to cook anyway, and doesn’t cook himself but heats a mean TV dinner at just the right times. He’s also exceptional at getting takeout.





Dear Readers: Finally it’s time for Mark’s story! I’m so excited to share his secrets with you. And though I Belong to You can be read as a standalone story, there are three novellas that really tell the backstory of the relationship between Mark and Crystal. I hope you will consider reading: ? The Master Undone ? My Hunger—starts the day after The Master Undone ends ? My Control I hope you enjoy!

Lisa





One

Crystal . . .

I’m standing next to Dana Compton at her bathroom mirror, staring at our reflections. My long blond hair touches my shoulders; her short blond hair teases her chin. “I hate that I had to cut it,” she whispers. “Damn cancer and that blast of chemo they gave me before my mastectomy.”

Yes, I think. Damn cancer. But I stay positive, hoping she will, too—a feat that’s getting harder every day. “That blast of chemo kept you from losing ground when the blood infection made you too weak for your cancer treatments. Besides,” I add, “I think you look good with your hair this length. You have such a gorgeous face we can see now.”

She gives me a sad smile. “Now you sound like Mark. He said the same thing.”

I smile inside at the soft side her son has for his mother; I’m fairly certain I’m one of the few people who have been privy to the real man beneath the hard shell. Except maybe Rebecca. Of course Rebecca. He’d loved her—not that he’s confessed such feelings, but the deep, cutting pain in his eyes, the desperateness in him when he touches me but wishes for her, tells me he did.

“Your son loves you,” I say. “And he wishes he were here. He tried. He flew me to San Francisco to close the Allure gallery for him.”

“I know,” she assures me. “And he did the right thing sending you back here when Ava escaped last week. What if she’d targeted you for attack, because you were working at Mark’s gallery? We don’t know what sick reason she had for killing Rebecca.”

She doesn’t, but I do. It was for the same reason a brilliant, wealthy artist like Ricco Alvarez had created the counterfeit-art scandal at Allure and the Riptide auction house, not caring about the many lives and employees it would affect: jealousy over Mark and Rebecca.

“Ava needs to be caught and punished,” she continues. “Rebecca was a sweet girl.”

“It’s heartbreaking,” I agree. “Like something from a horror movie.”

“Yes, it is.” She glances back into the mirror. “Speaking of horror movies, I’ve gotten so thin these past two weeks, it’s going to terrify Mark when he sees me. And I need to get these roots done so I’m blond again before he comes home. I’ll look more like myself then, and that might lift my spirits.”

Since she started daily radiation therapy last Friday, she’s been so exhausted that she hasn’t been able to do anything. I don’t point that out, though. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I lean my head against hers and meet her blue eyes in the mirror. “I’ll have the stylist come to us. We can have a spa day next Sunday.”

“Let’s do it at the spa,” she suggests, her normally strong voice weak, and her normally rosy cheeks pale.

“The doctor wants you to rest so you’ll be strong. And we’re only through the first week.”

Her lashes lower and lift. “Right. I need to get five more behind me.”

Doubt colors the words, and defeat rolls off her in a way I’ve never felt from her before this week. I really do think having Mark here for her first week of radiation treatments, as planned, would have helped. But he’s not, and I am, and it’s all a mess.

“Come on,” I urge, gently taking Dana’s robe-clad arm to lead her back to the bedroom. “Let’s go watch A Walk in the Clouds. It came in the mail today and I know how you love Keanu Reeves.”

“Oh yes,” she agrees, wobbling with me past the giant claw-footed bathtub. “He’s my younger-man fantasy.”