on the shower, cranking the handle until the water was scalding.

clear glass, but the frames were heavy enough to obscure her cheekbones. Her skin looked sallow,

eathe," she

n, were a piercing, icy blue. She pumped a handfu

ke freckles dissolved. The contouring that ma

ne, high cheekbones, lips that were naturally full and red. It was a face that had graced

o peel back, revealing the truth beneath. Her body was a map of violence. A jagged white line on her ribs from a knife fight in Prague. A circular pucker on her thigh from a bullet in Sudan. And

sed her eyes, letting the tension bleed out of her. For a moment, she wasn't Annelise

AS

the main room sh

sposable razor from the shower caddy. She snapped the plastic he

off the wat

A low, masculin

ucking the end securely over her chest. She kept the razor

rancesco's v

into the fold of the towel at her waist. She unlocke

he called

t in one hand, his other hand braced against the wall. His skin was pale, sweat beading o

up as the

ir clung to her neck. Her skin was flushed pink from the hea

esco

he had rescued from the fire was gone. In her place was a siren. The hu

bone, disappearing into the white terry cloth. He felt a jolt

upils dilate. She saw the confusion

d let her guard

hest, hunching her shoulders to hide her posture. She forced a blush

e squeaked, turn

lized he was shirtless in a bathroom doorway with his ward. He

gher than usual. "I... I needed the a

e me a minute," A

lose. Too close. He had seen too much. Not just the beauty, but the body. A body like hers didn't

e careful. Francesco Lancaster wasn't just a rich boy. He was a

n. He ran a hand through his hair. The image of her

hell w