PENELOPE GLANCED AROUND the anteroom, which was still teeming with beautiful people intent on making the best out of a gunman ruining their glamorous evening. If anything, Penelope thought they seemed almost happy about the media attention it brought forth. That was fame. Even bad press was still press. Some people even seemed excited, thrilled that they’d escaped the threat of death—as long as they weren’t targeted.
Anxious to escape the flashing lights and rising voices, she met Stefan’s eyes and said, “Let’s go before I end up on another live stream.” Surely leaving with the man who broke her heart couldn’t be any worse than what this night had thrown at her. Under the intensity of his gaze, she thought, what was a little more danger now that she’d survived a bullet?
Sliding his hand to her bicep, Stefan held her protectively as he steered through a swarm of people, clearing the way for them. Questions about Stefan and Monica buzzed uncontrollably through her mind but she said nothing, offering brave smiles to the party-goers who clapped their hands and offered kind words as she passed. Luckily, she’d been cleared to leave while the police interviewed the guests before evacuating the building.
When they emerged from the venue into the brisk evening air, Penelope finally drew in a deep breath. Sounds of the city roared louder than her pounding heart, and she was thankful that the dark night would hide her emotions as shadows surrounded them. Living in the spotlight had trained her to stay composed and to convey the emotions photographers wanted, but the adrenaline and feeling of Stefan’s strong hand on her arm made it more difficult to stay in control.
“This way,” Stefan said, peering at her in his peripheral vision.
The police had blocked media from the entrance, but as she lifted her gaze, she spied a darkened form taking photographs from a window across the street. She turned away, feeling uneasy.
Her ears still rang with the shot, and she shuddered, recalling the moment. Stefan spoke quietly to a police officer on the sidewalk, and moments later, they slid into the backseat of his police car.
“Buddy of mine.” Stefan craned his neck, still concerned for her safety. “We’re not taking any chances with you.”
They drove a few blocks, a distance Penelope could have easily walked—even in heels—but she was still shaken. They stopped in front of a small Art Deco apartment building, a lovely bronze-accented jewel from the last century. The officer escorted them inside the building. Once ensconced inside a narrow mirrored elevator, Stefan used a key to unlock the penthouse floor.
“Thanks for getting me out of there...and everything else,” Penelope said, watching the floors tick by and trying to squelch her feelings for Stefan. “Sorry about your face. Had I known you were trying to help me, I’d have gone easier on you. All things considered.”
He stood with his muscular arms folded across his broad chest and didn’t flinch when she reached out to graze her fingers along the already forming bruise. “I always knew you could handle yourself,” he said.
The elevator slid to a halt, and Penelope stepped out into an airy apartment decorated in a midcentury modern style. She looked around in surprise.
Low, black leather-clad banquettes anchored the living room. Plush white shag rugs dotted light bamboo floors, and colorful, splashy artwork lined the walls. A bike leaned against one wall, hand weights were stacked in a corner, and a high-tech computer system with several screens sat on a long Ikea-styled desk.
Stefan tossed his sunglasses onto a sleek glass entry table and then stepped into the kitchen. He grabbed two bottles of açaí juice from the refrigerator. “Unless you want something stronger,” he said, nodding toward a couple bottles of liquor. “Thought you could use a place to unwind. That must have been frightening.”
“This is better.” Penelope accepted the juice and drank, cooling her thirst and trying to check her distress. She glanced around the room. “Is this…?”
He raised an eyebrow in answer. “My place. Monica hated it. Never came here. I’m also licensed to practice law in New York, so I used this for business when I had cases. She preferred to stay in luxury hotels when she came to the city.”
Questions raced through her mind, but she dared not ask. Instead, she glanced around, intrigued by what she saw. He’d elevated his style from his student days she’d known. “Really nice.”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I grew up and realized I had a sense of style after all.” He opened French doors to a balcony, checked outside, and held his hand out to her. “Fresh air?”
Penelope hesitated, but then took his hand. As she stepped out and lifted her face to the night sky, he shut off the lights in the room behind them, cloaking them in protective darkness.
Dimly lit windows from thousands of apartments surrounded them like stars come to earth to shroud them in anonymity. Though the days were still warm, the night breezes were now edged with autumn and New Yorkers had cracked their windows. Somewhere, a fireplace burned and a pianist practiced Chopin, stirring her memories.
“I just love New York this time of year.” A lump rose in her throat. It was also one of the last places she’d seen Stefan in person, so many years ago. This is where he’d told her it had to be over between them. That duty had forced him to make a decision he hadn’t wanted to make.
He glanced at her shoes. “Those can’t be comfortable. Give me a foot,” he said, patting a thigh. “I’ll help you with that strap.”
Penelope was too tired to argue. She lifted her foot, resting her stiletto on his firm thigh. He unfastened the tiny jewel-encrusted buckle on one slim ankle strap, and then repeated the process. As he worked on the miniature clasp, she bit her lip. The gentle touch of his large, sturdy hands was almost more than she could bear.
“You had no chance of escaping in these.” Handling her ankles as though they were made of crystal, he removed her shoes and placed them inside the door.
“Much better.” Penelope wiggled her pedicured toes, watching as Stefan shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket, untied his bow-tie, and unfastened a couple of buttons. He was still as solid as she’d remembered.
She swung her gaze from him, blinking hard as she looked out over the twinkling lights of the city, her chest tightening.
“You okay?”
Penelope nodded, though heat coursed over her neck and face. She pressed her fingers at the corners of her eyes, but she couldn’t stem the sudden moisture gathering in her eyes.
Stefan drew a white handkerchief from his jacket and handed it to her without a word.
Choking up, Penelope turned and sobbed into his chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s all just catching up to me.”
“It’s hell when the adrenaline wears off.”
Penelope ignored his remark. All she could think about was how thankful she was to be standing on the balcony in this moment. “You saved my life.”
“No, the guard who whacked the shooter’s arm saved your life.” Awkwardly, he swept his arm around her, patting her back.
Penelope gripped his starched white shirt in her hand, scrunching up the fabric. Inhaling, she realized she’d been right—she had recognized his scent when he’d lifted her in his arms and rushed her to safety. He still wore the same eau de parfum she’d chosen for him years ago. The weekend of their six-month anniversary of dating—back when her world seemed full of endless love. Mingled with his natural masculine scent, the intoxicating result was just as she’d recalled, embedded in her memory.
One she’d tried to forget for so many years.
Just as she began to back away from him, he encircled her with both arms and drew her back to him. This time, it was his turn. Blinking rapidly, raw emotion seeped through his stoic expression.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” he said, his voice husky.
Penelope ran a hand over his light chestnut hair that grazed his collar, surprised at how silky it felt. “You did save me,” she said again, allowing him his due. “I was up there on the stage trying to warn everyone in the crowd. If you hadn’t whisked me away, that guy might’ve gotten off another shot at me.”
This time, Stefan didn’t reply. He ran a hand through her hair and buried his face against her neck. She could feel his heart pounding against hers, his breath warm against her neck. How easy it would be… And how painful to traverse that path with him again. No. Never give your heart. That had become her motto after he’d called it quits.
Drying her eyes, she murmured, “Stefan…we can’t…”
Slowly, he released her and stepped away, gripping the railing on the balcony as if he were the one who needed support. She leaned against her end of the rail.
Penelope could only watch him, this magnificent man who’d held her heart for so many years. Born of an American father and a Swedish mother, he had classic Nordic features. Erect posture, broad shoulders, graceful athleticism—along with a quick wit and hearty laugh, as she recalled. He was also the most generous soul she’d ever known. A man who many women would die for and others would greedily take advantage of.
Like her former best friend.
Stefan touched her hand. “Awfully glad I was there tonight.”
“Why were you? Are you and Monica...?” The woman’s name tasted bad in her mouth.
“Guess you haven’t heard.” He gave a wry laugh and shook his head.
“Don’t know if I want to.” Penelope turned from him to stare out into the city, taking solace in the dark. She could hardly bring herself to talk about Monica, the woman who’d seduced this exquisite man who stood before her. Penelope chewed her lip thinking about the woman she’d once thought was as close as a sister.
Several years ago, she and Monica were working in southern California when they’d met Stefan after a shoot in San Diego. Monica was more experienced, and so was Stefan, who was wrapping up his Navy SEAL career after returning from Afghanistan. The three of them hung out in the Gaslamp district downtown and went to the beach in the old town of Carlsbad.
A few weeks later, Stefan moved to Los Angeles for law school, where Penelope also had modeling jobs. It wasn’t long before they were spending every moment they could together. They dated for one glorious year, with Penelope dashing back to L.A. every chance she had and Stefan studying hard while she was gone.
On one trip, while Penelope was on a shoot in New York, their idyllic existence was suddenly torn apart like palm fronds in a hurricane. She’d just left a job when she found Stefan waiting in the small, marbled lobby of the Elysée Hotel, where she was staying.
“What a nice surprise,” she’d said, sliding her arms around his neck and feeling the strange stiffness in his shoulders. “I was just day-dreaming about you…and missing what you do to me.”
He’d spoken in a strangled voice. “That’s not why I’m here. Let’s go to your room. We really have to talk.”
Penelope closed her eyes, recalling his confession. She had watched Monica seduce scores of men, so she knew her friend’s powers. She knew Monica better than anyone and was certain that this episode meant nothing to her friend—or to Stefan. We’ll put this behind us and forget it, that’s what she told Stefan when she forgave him, though the knowledge sliced her like a scythe. She’d never been the same since.
“Penelope, are you still with me?”
Blinking, she turned back to him. He was still gripping the railing watching her. She changed the subject. “I know you graduated from USC and joined a prestigious firm. Criminal law, right?”
“I never should have married Monica.”
Penelope wanted to scream. “Who held a gun to your head?” she snapped. But she knew the answer. She’d fallen deeply in love with a man so honorable that he couldn’t fathom bringing a child into the world and not fulfilling his role as a father.
Two months after Stefan had confessed the brief affair and just as Penelope and Stefan were regaining their relationship, Monica swooped in again.
Pregnant.
Stefan stepped toward her. “Guess I deserved that.”
Penelope spun toward him and jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “You got what you deserved. Monica.”
Stefan hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not enough to say I’m sorry, but I am. What I did was unforgivable.”
Penelope could feel his shame. Somewhere in her heart, she yearned to reach out to comfort him. She’d once loved him, and despite barely surviving the aftermath of her shattered heart, she felt bad for him.
Unable to form words of sympathy, she gripped the railing to thwart her hands and steady her nerves. It’d be so easy to scream at him, to say something to hurt him now, even all these years later, but after tonight, life felt too short to waste another breath on a past that could never be changed.
Tears shone in his eyes, surprising her. “I couldn’t leave her after she lost the baby. She was so depressed. She talked of killing herself.”
“Of course you couldn’t.” Penelope forced the words from her throat. “I didn’t expect you to.”
Stefan touched her hand. “I didn’t say I shouldn’t have left her.”
Penelope glanced down, willing her hand to move, but it refused. “Do you have a case in New York?” She had to change the subject. Reliving the past wasn’t making this horrible night any better. Penelope wanted to just forget and forge on like she had always done.
Stefan coughed into his hand and took a long swig of açaí juice.
Monica had boasted about his career for a while, and then grew bored. He’s working all the time, Penelope had heard her complain backstage to other models. He never has time for me. Penelope saw Monica flirting with other men while they were on location and called her on her behavior, but Monica simply hurled words back in her face. What business is it of yours?
Her friend was right. None. So she’d cut her ties to Monica, turning down work that would’ve brought them together. Thank goodness Penelope’s agent had understood and began booking her elsewhere.
Sirens pierced the silence, and Penelope stared at the flashing emergency lights below. Millions of people lived and died in this city. Why should they be any different?
“I’m taking a break from law.”
Penelope turned back to Stefan, her lips parted in surprise. “I thought you loved the law. What happened?”
“It’s extremely satisfying when I’m representing the good guys and we win. But the practice became tainted. The partners began representing a class of people I found repelling. Mobsters. Child molesters.” Stefan ran a hand down her forearm. “The last case did me in. I nearly didn’t survive.”
Penelope drew her eyebrows together, her instincts on alert. “You survived Afghanistan.”
“There, we knew who the enemy was.” Stefan grimaced and then took her hands in his.
Penelope looked down at their joined hands. Sensing his need for connection and comfort, she made no move to draw back. “Are you going back to law?”
“I don’t know when—or if—but I had to do something. So I started a service with a partner that provides premium bodyguards to high profile people. That’s why I was at that event. Protecting others is what I do, Penelope. Always has been.”
“If you’re happy, I’m glad for you, Stefan.” She squeezed his hands, reassuring him. Or herself.
Pressing her hands in return, he said, “You really haven’t been reading the tabloids, have you?”
“I gave up reading those a long time ago to maintain my sanity.” There was no shortage of pairings of her with wildly successful men, playboys, and stars, according to the tabloids and online gossip sites.
“Monica left me for my client.”
“Which one?” She frowned. “Not that it matters.”
“Oh, it does.” He blew out a breath of disgust. “She left me for the actor I got off on murder charges. That was the last case.”
Penelope swallowed her shock. “I saw a post on social media, but it was so outlandish, I was certain the story had been fabricated.” Overcome with sadness for what he’d been through, she touched his cheek—against her better judgment.
“As it turns out, reality is often stranger than fiction.” Stefan slid a finger under her chin. “As you might imagine, I’ve been re-evaluating my life. Despite what I’d thought, I think we have some unfinished business.”
Penelope lowered her eyes, containing her desire. “I hardly recall.”
He slid his arms around her. “May I refresh your memory?”