to help dislodge the lump in my throat.
“I’ll admit,” I began unsteadily, “I wish I could forget about my problems, even if only for a night. But don’t tell me that you’re suggesting I…reciprocate my husband’s disloyalty with someone I just met,” I continued in a chiding tone. “I hardly think that would do anything but complicate matters further.”
Balthus laughed then—a deep, rich bass that seemed to resonate throughout my entire body. “Oh, Sydney, you are delightful,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “I think I’m going to enjoy getting to know you better.”
“Oh really?” My brows rose at the assuming tone of his statement. A prickle of unease touched my spine, but I shrugged it off and told myself that I was being childish. I just wasn’t used to interacting with men this way.
“That is, if you’ll consent to conversing with me for a while longer,” he replied smoothly. “You don’t seem to be enjoying your drink.” He pointed to the now-warm liquid that still filled half my glass. “Share a bottle of champagne with me?”
I hesitated as an increasingly fuzzy corner of my brain warned against accepting his offer. But my reserve faded and my inner alarm bells dissolved into a pleasant, carefree haze. Champagne sounded fun! And I was here to have fun, right? And to forget about…something.
Frowning, I looked up to find Balthus’ expectant gaze centered on me. “So what do you say, Sydney?”
I blinked and gave him an uncertain smile. “Champagne sounds good.” I suddenly felt as if I’d been holding my breath for hours and was finally letting it all out in one big rush. The relief was dizzying.
Balthus shot me a devilish grin and signaled the bartender.
An hour later I found myself a few shades past tipsy, and laughing merrily at something Balthus was saying as I accompanied him up to his tenth floor penthouse in a heavy marble and bronze elevator that opened directly into his private outer foyer.
As I waited for Balthus to unlock the penthouse door, however, that annoying, rational inner voice intruded once more. I scowled as it pierced my cloud of contentment, demanding to know what the hell I was doing getting drunk and going to some strange guy’s hotel room. This was not normal behavior for me. Maybe I should slow things down and forgo Balthus’ offer of a nightcap…
My thoughts stalled out as Balthus turned to me with a disarming smile and beckoned me through the door.
I trailed behind him, gaping at the most luxurious hotel room I’d ever seen. Balthus strolled forward into the suite’s sitting room and halted behind an elegant freestanding bar trimmed in tawny leather and burnished metal rivets that matched the room’s over-stuffed leather sofas.
Everything in the space, from the speckled fawn carpet to the ultra-modern fixtures to the Impressionist style paintings on the walls, had been chosen with exquisite care and taste. But it all paled in comparison to the breathtaking ocean panorama visible through the room’s wall of expansive sliding glass doors.
“This view is incredible!” I made my way across the plush carpet toward the sprawling balcony. “Do you mind if I open the door?”
“No, go right ahead.” Balthus indulged my enthusiasm. “Would you like another glass of champagne?” he called.
I turned, prepared to politely refuse, just as he popped the cork and began tipping some into a delicate crystal flute. My refusal died on my lips. I shook my head and found myself agreeing to a drink I knew I didn’t need as I wandered out onto the balcony.
The night was warm, but the penthouse was high enough that the breeze took the edge off the heat. I breathed deeply, the tang of salt from the ocean air helping to clear my head. I leaned over the railing, enjoying the feel of my wind-tousled hair teasing the sensitive skin on my bare shoulders.
I felt Balthus’ presence behind me and turned to accept one of the chilled crystal flutes he held. He gently reached to tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear, his fingertips gliding down my neck to linger warmly on my shoulder. His touch amplified the sensations I had already been enjoying, and I had to close my eyes and force myself to remain still against the wave of desire that blossomed through me.
“It’s beautiful here,” I prattled.
“It certainly has its charms,” Balthus agreed with a smile. “I come here quite frequently, actually.”
“This penthouse is fantastic. I wish I could live here.” I shivered with growing anxiety.
Balthus’ fingers tightened on my shoulder and I felt that odd prick of unease in my spine again. But then his fingers began a slow massage, dissolving away my tension as if by magic. He took my glass from my nerveless hand and placed it beside his on a nearby table.
“Why not?” he whispered. “Surely a woman as lovely as you deserves to live in such a beautiful penthouse. What else do you wish, Sydney?” he asked, his breath softly stirring the hair near my temple as he moved closer.
I leaned into the warmth of his body. “I wish…” Hmm…I was sure I wished a lot of things…but I could only seem to think of one desire as I stared up into the fiery depths of Balthus’ eyes…
“That’s enough,” a disembodied voice interrupted from the darkness.
The words I had been about to speak died on my tongue.
A man appeared, as if he had melted away from the shadows of the wrap-around balcony to assume solid form.
I froze, furious with myself for having been so stupid as to go somewhere this private with a man I’d just met. Actually, it was more terror desperately trying to work its way up to fury—until I noticed that Balthus looked every bit as stunned as I did.
Holding onto the small morsel of relief provided by that, I clutched at his hands where they rested on my shoulders, trying to dissolve back into him and away from the other man.
My relief was short-lived as my gaze shot to the man’s hand. He was pointing something at us. My breath caught in my throat and my brain screamed Gun! Panic swelled, excluding all other thought. Yet for some reason, my eyes kept trying to break in and signal my brain that something was off.
I didn’t know much about weapons, but the one this man was holding looked rather odd. It seemed to be made entirely of tarnished bronze, and the finger loop at the back looked more like a handle than a trigger.
“Miss, step away from the djinn.”
I had the distant thought that the stranger’s tenor brogue sounded Irish. He stared at me expectantly, impatience tightening his features when I didn’t immediately obey his command. My brain finally kicked into gear as I realized that, despite my attraction to Balthus, I didn’t know him well enough to stand between him and a bullet. The thought eased my guilt as I began to inch away from him, my mind registering distractedly that the stranger had called him…the djinn?
I didn’t get far before Balthus’ grip tightened painfully on my shoulders.
“Stay where you are Sydney,” he commanded. His cultured voice belied the unpleasant manner in which he held me. “She is mine, by right.” He glared at the other man.
I stiffened, not liking the sound of that at all. “Um,
