I Belong to You (Inside Out #5)(71)

“If I could turn back time and make this go differently, I would.”

The rough quality of his voice stills me, and I meet his eyes. “I know. This isn’t your fault.” I wrap my arms around him, inhaling that wonderful, masculine scent of him that somehow soothes my frazzled nerves. “I just can’t lose my family.” I step back and draw in a calming breath. “I need to make the call here. I have two employees in my office going over paperwork.”

He kisses my forehead. “I’ll shut the door on my way out.”

I walk to the opposite end of the long table, where a phone sits, and dial my father’s cell number.

He answers in two rings. “Well, hello, honey. Since my caller ID says you’re calling me from work, I assume you haven’t decided to slow down.”

“I’ll take time off when you take time off.”

“That’s not the answer I wanted to hear.”

“I have a huge auction next weekend.”

“What’s wrong?”

I frown at the phone. “What makes you say something is wrong?”

“I know you. It’s in your voice.”

I dive right in. “You know that the woman who killed Rebecca is on the run, but now it seems she’s teamed up with some sort of mercenary. He . . . I had a brush with him a few days ago. Outside the gallery. He came right up to me and smiled, and then just walked away. I didn’t know who he was then, but—”

“You’re quitting. Right now. We’ll get you out of the country.”

“You’d clearly get along well with Mark. He wants to send me to Paris.”

“That SOB is why you’re in trouble. He’s not sending you anywhere.”

“This isn’t his fault, Dad. You know that. You’re being protective and I appreciate that, but—”

“You’re quitting, Crystal.”

“No, I’m not. It solves nothing. Dad, I’m in love with Mark, and if the plan is to hurt him, I’ll still be a target anywhere I go.”

He’s silent for several heavy beats. “You love him.”

I think of the way he sat down on the floor with me, the way he tried to get me to read Rebecca’s journals to bare all to me, and my answer is easy. “Yes. I love him.”

“You’ve never said that about a man before.”

“I’ve never felt it before.” Then I laugh. “And he can pay his own bills.”

He doesn’t laugh. “I want to meet him. Bring him tomorrow night.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t come. I don’t want to bring attention to you.”

“You’re coming, and you’re bringing Mark Compton. I have plenty of security. I’m going to send someone over to you.”

“I have security people all around me, Dad. Mark won’t let me breathe without someone supervising.”

“Who’s handling the security procedures?”

“Walker Security.”

“I’ve heard of Walker. I’ll be checking them out quite thoroughly.”

We chat for a few more minutes and end the call. I was wrong when I said Mark and I were two bulls after the same red flag. He and my father have become the two bulls, and I’m the red flag.

I exit the conference room to find Mark leaning against the wall, and I walk over to him. “He wants us to come tomorrow night. It’s not going to be an easy meeting.”

He wraps his arm around me and holds me close. “I can handle it. Royce called. They used Ryan’s credit card to track him to his hotel.”

“Can they legally do that?”

“I really don’t care. He was at the Omni hotel, a few blocks from here.”

“Where you were staying before you moved in with me?”

“He knew it was my place of choice. Royce pulled strings to pick him up for questioning about Corey. They’ll build the case for the money laundering while he’s there.”

“Good. No word on Ava or the mercenary?”

“Jimenez is his name, and no. No word on either of them, but we have a lot of people working on this. Now that Ryan is being arrested, we suspect the police will be brought in on the entire plot.”

“Which is what?”

“Hurting me. And I can only assume that’s because I applied pressure to expose Ryan as being involved in Rebecca’s death. I think we should go home and stay in tonight. I’m telling my father I need to stay away from NYU until this is over.” He strokes my hair. “Ryan’s in custody. They’re going to make him talk.”

His voice is strong and confident, but I sense his unease. I know he’s worried there’s a whole lot more trouble headed our way.

*

Much later in the evening, Mark and I have eaten the sandwiches we picked up on the way to the apartment and managed to end up naked in the bedroom, where he is tender and loving and . . . vanilla.

By the time we’re headed to vanilla event number three, my fear is confirmed. Because of who he decided I was last night, he can’t be himself, and we can’t be the us that we were becoming. Frustrated, even hurt by the way the past is invading my future, I shove him to his back and straddle him. “I wish I’d never told you about my claustrophobia. Stop treating me like I’m breakable.”