"Mr. Bishop. I mean, Asher, I'm not moving in with you. I'm sorry."

The corners of his mouth tugged a little until a smile broke out. "Yes, you are."

Diana's fingers clenched into fists.

What the h.e.l.l was wrong with this guy? He's crazy!

"Listen. I understand that you're concerned, and I appreciate it. I really do. But I'm a big girl. I don't need you, or any other man for that matter, to take care of me. I'm more than capable of handling myself."

"It's not a question, Diana. You are now an investment. The minute you agreed to our deal, I wired two million dollars into your Ovid Mutual bank account. It's sweet that you think I'm worried about you, and I am, but I'm more concerned with getting my money's worth."

Diana was speechless. Never had she been shut down with such intensity and command before. And who just dropped that amount of money for an investigation.

She needed to know more about this man, and how he would benefit from the capture of Cupid.

"I think that you've lost your mind," she said.

"Don't argue. It's useless. Just think about the advantages, Diana. Top of the line cuisine, room service if you wish, helicopter rides where ever your heart desires, and a beautiful lavish room as well as the best part, my company."

"Asher, I'm a grown woman who's taken care of herself for many years, way before I met my husband. I've reported news in the Middle East for G.o.ds-sake. I was in L.A. for some crazy gang shootings. I'm pretty good at protecting myself, and even more important, you will not boss me around."

He leaned her way and targeted her with his gaze. "Just say yes, Mrs. Diana Stubborn-Head Carson. Just say yes, before all of this gets messy."

"Excuse me?"

"I have many friends on this island that could make life difficult for you." He formed his lips into a slick grin. "The cops could deem the entire house as evidence and close it off for further use-"

"They opened the area already."

"I have friends-police that can bar you from your own property and lawyers that can tie you up in obligations to me." He leaned back, grabbed his napkin, unfolded it, and placed it on his lap. "I'm also pretty creative. Your boss could be included in this. Not to mention I have nothing but time on my hands. I could simply follow you around every minute of the day."

She crossed her arms and smirked. "You forget that I have a friend on the police force, too. I could get a restraining order."

"I have too many friends for that. Didn't I already say that?"

"Are you bribing Captain Rothschild?"

"I think the more important question is, who isn't bribing Captain Rothschild?"

"Not me."

"Which is why, you'll be forced to stay with me whether you want to or not."

"Listen. Most women would hear all of these things, jump up from the table, and race away from you."

"You're not most women." He took a sip of his water. "You understand that no matter how ridiculous or overboard and creepy my earlier threats sound, the probability of me doing them are pretty high."

She raised her eyebrows. "How would I know that?"

"Because you're smart, and you know I'm invested in your well-being and working on this investigation." He shrugged. "You know I'm scared, and there's nothing in the world like a scared rich man. He'd surpa.s.s any limits to save his own mortality."

"So what you're telling me is that you're not going to let me say no about staying with you for a few days? Are you?"

Asher smiled, his dimples taunting her.

Diana's heart did something weird then. A little flip-flop.

Oh get ahold of yourself, Diana.

"Mrs. Carson, I advise that you go home, pack up what you deem valuable, and be ready by seven o'clock this evening to be picked up by my driver. I'll have your room ready by then."

Diana couldn't believe it. What had her life become in the last few days? It was almost as if she were living in a movie. A strange movie where she couldn't figure out what would be happening next.

"You're exhausted." Asher pointed at her. "I'm well-rested. Say yes, now. Or we could go back and forth with this for the rest of the day."

"Asher-"

"Just say yes."

"But-"

"I won't let this go. Other things, sure. But not your safety, especially when it deals with my money. Just say, yes, for a few days. Think of it as a vacation, a long one."

"A short one."

"We can discuss the length of stay later."

"Or right now."

He rose from the table. "I'm sorry. I don't have the time to go over that. I suddenly realized that I have a lovely guest coming through."

"It will only be a few days at the most."

Asher stood up, and then flattened out his shirt and suit jacket. "See you tonight, Diana."

What just happened?

She said nothing and couldn't get up for several minutes afterwards. His scent and presence lingered after his departure. And for the tiniest of seconds, she thought she felt the same electric waves of air she'd felt in the kitchen the night her husband was murdered, and even the moment she'd been in the shower.

I should get this checked out with a doctor. Maybe I have cancer. Or a tumor. Or maybe I'm just f.u.c.king crazy.

Diana was the type of woman who trusted her gut implicitly. Even when she ignored it, it had never been wrong. And Diana's gut was bursting, whirling, and beeping out warning signs.

I'm going to stay with Asher Bishop for a few days. This is either going to be a giant disaster or a beautiful mistake.

Diana hoped for the latter.

Ten.

Cupid

Books crowded Asher's mansion. They toppled his library and stacked the desk in his office. Nonfiction filled most of the shelves, although he indulged in many horror cla.s.sics-Mary Sh.e.l.ly's Frankenstein to Stephen King's It, collections of Lovecraft to leather-bound editions of Edgar Allan Poe.

Asher read more than he slept or did anything else. He consumed words, did his best to memorize all the lines and statements on every page. Knowledge lived within books. It slept along the creases of tattered spines.

In medical journals, doctors presented ways to slice veins so precise, that no blood would spurt out and make a mess. Textbooks on social behavior, from psychology to marketing, taught the human mind's triggers and how they could easily be influenced.

And so he read, for years and many nights, in between the times he could satisfy his hunger for death. Books helped him cope with the thirst for blood.

Reading eased the dull ache in his skull when his mind drifted to his mother and her lovers... when he remembered the price he'd paid to save her.

That night he sat in his library and absorbed a book on the twelve steps to intimacy.

Diana had changed the level of the game on their first date. She was too smart to be easily impressed. He had to call in reinforcements. Everything rested on keeping control of her. She'd gotten a whiff of clues and witnesses in just one day and surpa.s.sed all the police's efforts to figure out the murders.

If she wasn't so beautiful, I probably would've thought she was dangerous.

In that moment, he realized he was falling into the same rabbit hole so many others had done before him. She was beautiful, yes, but she was f.u.c.king smart. So smart, she made men like Asher forget how distracted they could be around her.

There was hot l.u.s.t that barreled in his chest, every time she came around him. He had to crush the urge in him to f.u.c.k her. He had to make her his between the sheets, just for a few nights. Nothing more. Just s.e.x, and a taste, here or there.

He flipped a page and continued to read.

"And what is this?" His mother sashayed into the library and carried a martini with her.

She looked like she'd just stepped off of a soap opera set, one with big drama and wealthy characters. For hours, she would shut the world out, sip a gla.s.s of something wicked, and stare at the television. Asher never bothered her when she had them on, and never wanted to deal with her cursing and yelling because of it.

"Did you hear me?" She took her time sitting down across from him and sipped her martini.

"I'm reading about the twelve steps of intimacy."

"Why?"

He didn't even look up. "A behavioral scientist named Dr. Morris studied several couples and wondered why some stayed together while others divorced."

"This is not answering my question of why you're reading the book."

"I'm getting to that." He flipped another page. "So Dr. Morris studied hundreds of these couples and discovered that the successful, happy relationships had similar progressions of intimacy. They left a sufficient amount of time to advance to each stage. He theorized that with each slow progression in stages, it gave the couple a stronger bond."

"And the couples that rushed through all of these stages didn't develop anything?"

"They developed relationships, but their bonds weren't strong, and most usually divorced."

She set her gla.s.s on the table. "But why are you reading this?"

"It's interesting."

"Well," His mother crossed her legs. "I have another question."

He glanced up at her. "Are you going to let me read, Mother?"

"No."

"Then by all means, go ahead."

"Why are you sending me off to Paris for a month?"

He let out a long breath and returned his attention to the book. "I thought you liked Paris."

"I do."

"I'm giving you my plane and personal pilot. You'll have no limit in expenses. What is the problem?"

She frowned. "This sounds too good to be true. That's what the problem is, Asher."

"You've been stressed. I thought that you deserved a nice vacation."

"Is there anything else going on?"

He closed the book, kept it to his chest, stood up, and headed out of the library. "Goodnight, Mother."

"Why are they cleaning the west wing?"

"They? Who mother?"

"The staff, of course. They're dusting, vacuuming, and all types of things in the west wing of our home."

"They're cleaning that side for you. It'll be a nice interior design project for you when you get back. I'm hoping to have you work on renovations in that area, after Paris." He paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder.

"You're lying."

"Why would I lie?"

"Is someone going to stay here?"

"Why would anyone stay here, Mother?"