It felt good to be clean and dry again. He dragged on a pair of jeans and thought about what Dahlia’s life had to have been like. While he was hunting and fishing and learning martial arts, she was alone in rooms filled with one-way glass and silent watchers. His grandfathers loved him and often hugged him, beaming with approval when he succeeded. There had been two women in Dahlia’s life, and their loyalty had not been entirely hers. She needed time. Even if a sexual relationship bound them together, Nicolas knew it would never be enough for him. He knew he wanted all of Dahlia Le Blanc, not just her body.
DAHLIA dressed slowly, grateful for the clothes Jesse had stored in the closet for her. As she pulled on a pair of jeans, she listened to the sound of the shower. Nicolas had power now, and he knew it. Dahlia had never let another human being have true power over her since Dr. Whitney had when she’d been a child. Others might believe they had control, but it was never so. She should never have blurted out the truth, telling him she wanted to kiss him.
Jesse had always told her she should have a backup plan and not to trust anyone entirely. It had never seemed a problem before. Even Milly and Bernadette, the two people she’d really loved, had reported to someone else about her. It hadn’t been just Dr. Whitney they’d reported to. Whitney had lost interest in her around the age of seventeen or eighteen. He had provided the money for her home and the specialized gymnasium equipment, but once he had made a decision that she would never be able to work as an operative, he never returned. Had he checked, even once, he would have found she’d proved him wrong, perhaps out of sheer stubborness.
Dahlia wandered into the kitchen and opened cupboards. They were stocked only with the bare necessities. She made a pot of coffee, mainly for the aroma and something to do with her hands while she tried to puzzle out who wanted her dead. Who knew about her, and why would they want her dead? Was it possible those she’d worked with didn’t want it known that she did recovery work for them and sent out a team to kill not only her, but Milly and Bernadette as well? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.
She rubbed at her damp hair with the towel, taking out the excess moisture. There was no need to kill any of them. No one would ever believe Dahlia Le Blanc, a woman raised in a sanitarium. It was the perfect cover and the perfect protection. If she were caught, she was simply a madwoman unhinged by her own conspiracy theories.
She looked up as Nicolas sauntered into the room. His hair was damp from his shower and he wore only a pair of soft blue jeans. He was barefoot and shirtless, showing a broad, bronzed chest that robbed her of her ability to think clearly. She tried not to stare, but it was a losing proposition. In a lame attempt to cover her reaction to his presence, she settled into one of the kitchen chairs. “I’m just making coffee. I thought we both could use a cup.”
“It smells great.” Automatically, he glanced at the windows, making certain no one could see them from any angle.
“Tell me a little bit about how you got into recovery work,” Nicolas suggested.
Dahlia leaned back and allowed herself a long look at him. “I think I only said I’d do it because Dr. Whitney said I couldn’t do it. I really detested that man.”
“So you’re contrary on top of everything else.”
She watched the way his muscles rippled as he made his way to the coffeepot. He reached easily into the cupboard and pulled out two mugs. “Very contrary when it’s needed. The man who recruited me wore a uniform, and both Milly and Bernadette were afraid of him. More than just nervous, you know? I think he had a couple of stars on his uniform. Whitney was there at the time.” She shrugged. “I was about seventeen, I think, and deliberately didn’t pay much attention.”