Chapter 7: Eleven O'Clock

She told Daphne she was going for a walk.

Her sister frowned. "It's freezing, and it's late."

"I'll be an hour."

"Take the car."

"I want to walk."

Daphne looked at her a moment too long, then kissed her cheek and let her go.

At eleven exactly, Willa stepped out of the elevator on the top floor.

The suite door stood open an inch.

She pushed it and went in.

Jasper was standing at the window with his back to her, his jacket off and his sleeves rolled to the elbow.

The city lay glittering behind him.

"Close the door," he said.

She closed it.

"You didn't give me your surname."

"You didn't ask for it."

"I didn't need to." He turned around. His face was perfectly still. "Tarleton."

So he knew.

"You looked straight through me tonight," Willa said. "In the hall."

"I looked through you in front of your grandfather. Would you have preferred I hold your hand?"

"I'd have preferred you hadn't looked at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'd taken something."

Something moved in his jaw.

He crossed the room.

Willa backed into the door. His hand came up and flattened beside her head, and the whole length of him blocked the light.

"Who sent you?" he said.

"What?"

"Who told you to come to me? Your grandfather? Your father?"

She stared at him.

"Nobody sent me. I came because I needed money. I told you that."

"You told me nothing."

"I told you I needed something."

His eyes searched her face. She did not know what he was looking for, and she let him look.

"You're a terrible liar," he said, very low.

"I'm not lying."

"No. That's what bothers me."

He kissed her.

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