Riley arrived at work on Monday morning to find Dylan wanted them to take a quick trip to Manhattan to check out a city hotel owned by the same company as the place in Phoenix. Forty-eight hours, in and out. She agreed to head home and pack.

She called Ian first, knowing he'd appreciate the gesture. Although he was in a meeting across town, he took her call immediately. He wasn't pleased they'd be apart so soon after she'd moved in, but he didn't ask her not to go or interfere. He couldn't leave the meeting he was in and instead insisted she take a car service to her apartment, charge it to the company, and make sure the driver walked her up to her door and waited for her to return to the car. He didn't want her alone.

She didn't argue, not wanting to add pressure to his day. She already knew how difficult he found it to let her go on these trips, and she understood so much more now, especially since many of his father's business trips had been a cover for time with Savannah and his other family.

While away, Riley made sure to call him often, and though her room was full of flowers, Dylan had no complaints about phone calls from Ian.

In other words, Ian was living up to his word. In return, she picked up souvenirs, silly things like a miniature Empire State Building and an I Love NY hat just to show Ian she thought of him too.

She arrived home Wednesday morning, heading straight from the airport to work.

Angie greeted her with a smile and her messages.

"You're amazing," Riley told the other woman.

"Thanks! Let me know if you need anything."

"I will."

"Oh! There's a package for you on your desk," Angie added.

"Got it!" Riley said as she entered her office.

She parked her small travel suitcase in the corner and flopped into her chair. "Home sweet home away from home," she muttered, kicking off her shoes beneath her desk.

She might have work to do, but she wanted to see Ian first. Still, the package in brown wrapping called to her. She wondered if he'd bought her something while she was away. She immediately touched the pendant he'd given her. She only removed it to shower then put it back on to sleep.

She wasn't stupid, knew it was ridiculously expensive, but its worth wasn't in its dollar value. For Riley, the necklace was Ian's statement, proof of how well he knew her taste and what she meant to him. She didn't want or need anything else from him, she thought, as she ripped into the package.

Inside was a box and inside that, a picture frame. Had the silly man framed the picture of them from the newspaper? That was something she'd cherish, their first photograph together.

She turned over the rectangular frame, took one look at the picture, and screamed, dropping it onto her desk. "Oh my G.o.d!"

"Riley, are you okay?" Angie popped around the doorframe.

"I'm fine," she lied.

The other woman narrowed her gaze. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Angie left, and Riley turned over the offending picture. Riley's beautiful mother, her face bruised and battered, stared back at her. Obviously an old photo, it was faded and had been crumpled and straightened again to be sent here.

Ian. She had to show Ian. Not because she'd promised him, but because he was the only person she wanted now.

She held the frame against her chest, not wanting anyone else to see, and ran for his office.

His secretary smiled when she saw Riley.

"Is he in?" she asked.

The older woman nodded. "But he's on a call."

Riley didn't care. She pa.s.sed by the woman's desk and let herself into his office.

He looked up when she burst in, his serious expression transforming into a smile. "I have to go," he said to whomever was on the phone, disconnecting the call.

Ian rose and started toward her, stopping when he caught sight of her pale face and wide, panicked eyes. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, and he realized she was clutching something close to her heart. He wrapped his hands around hers. "Can I see?"

She released her grip. "It's my mother," she said in a pain-wracked voice.

He looked down at the gruesome reminder of her past pain, and a combination of nausea and rage filled him. "Where did you get this?"

"The package was delivered here," she said, her voice dull.

Ian narrowed his gaze, trying to decide what concerned him more. The delivered photograph or Riley's reaction. "Come sit."

He led her to his leather couch and eased her down, setting the picture facedown on the table in front of them. "Riley?"

"I'm going to kill him," she said, color returning to her cheeks.

Not if Ian got to the son of a b.i.t.c.h first.

"We need to call the police. They need to doc.u.ment what's been happening, okay?"

She nodded. "My mother never did. I want it on record," she said, sounding stronger.

He let out the breath he'd been holding, relieved she seemed to be coming back to herself.

"Have you been home yet?"

She shook her head. "Dylan was coming straight here, so I did too. I wanted to see you."

He smiled at that, touching his forehead to hers. "I'm right here."

"I came straight to you," she said, her gaze on the picture frame. "I opened it up and came right to you."

He gathered her hair and pulled it back, off her face. "You did good. And I'm going to take care of it," he promised her.

She blinked at that, her posture stiffening.

Wrong direction, he thought. She didn't want him fighting her battles or acting like she couldn't take care of herself. He got that about her.

"I missed you," he said, changing the subject.

"Me too. I brought you presents."

His heart warmed at the gesture. "How about we take the day off?" he suggested, needing to be alone with her. He needed to slide deep inside her willing body and know she was safe. And his.

She frowned. "I have summaries to write."

"Did Dylan say he needed or wanted them today or first thing tomorrow?"

She shook her head.

"Then relax. You earned the rest of the day. And I'm the boss. I can do whatever I want."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "You sure can. But we need to stop at the police station on the way home," she said, her tone growing more serious.

"I'll be right there with you," he promised her.

She grasped his hand and squeezed tightly. "I don't know what he wants from me after all this time."

Ian couldn't imagine. But he intended to find out. Until now, he'd been okay letting Alex handle looking into the son of a b.i.t.c.h, but now that her father had stepped up his game, Ian was getting involved. In deference to Riley's feelings, he'd talk to Alex, but that didn't mean he'd leave things solely in his half brother's hands.

Ian had not only lived alone, but he'd planned to remain that way. He wanted Riley with him, but he'd expected some internal tension over having her clothes in his closet and drawers, her feminine bottles and things in his bathroom and personal s.p.a.ce. To his surprise, they blended seamlessly.

Once she'd returned from New York and made herself at home, spreading out and not keeping to one small s.p.a.ce, he found comfort in the things that a.s.sured him she was there and real. The problem, in his mind, was that she wasn't there by choice. Her father's implied threats may have forced her to move in with him, but if he had his way, she wouldn't be leaving when the b.a.s.t.a.r.d was taken care of.

If left up to the cops, that might be awhile. Their stop at the nearest precinct was, as he'd feared, a waste of time. Short of doc.u.menting the phone calls and gift, there was no proof either of those things had been the other man's doing. Though the cop who'd taken Riley's statement had been sympathetic, especially after seeing the picture of her badly beaten mother, he didn't think she had enough evidence to rise to the level needed for an order of protection.

Riley would need to prove she had reasonable cause to believe she was in immediate danger of becoming a victim of domestic violence, and given that she hadn't seen her father in ten years, one phone call that wasn't even a direct threat didn't suffice. The officer couldn't suggest anything more than to remind her to be in touch if she heard from her father or received anything more hara.s.sing than the calls she'd received so far.

Riley left defeated, and Ian hated seeing his normally s.p.u.n.ky, bright girl feeling so beaten down. He swore to do more than the cops in order to make things right.

He started by arranging for a surprise for later that would put a smile on Riley's face. It would also give him a chance to poke further into the situation and see if there was anything more he could find out about her old man.

Riley awoke from a long nap feeling refreshed and calmer than she'd been earlier today. She stared at the ceiling of Ian's bedroom, the events of the morning coming back to her full force. She closed her eyes, refusing to think about her father at all. If she allowed him any s.p.a.ce in her mind, be it fear or anger, she gave him power. And that was the one thing she refused to cede ever again.

Instead, she shifted focus to her location, looking around the beautiful and ma.s.sively large bedroom, amazed at how much her life had changed in such a short time. From the new job, to the new man in her life, to moving in with Ian, albeit temporarily, nothing was the same as it had been just a few weeks ago. And it wasn't just logistics, career, and Ian that had changed.

She was changing.

Learning to accept things from others, from small items and gifts to larger, more significant offers, like a new job and a place to live, she was slowly bending. Giving up her hard-won and fought-for independence. And the scariest of all, coming to count on having Ian in her life.

But she was also realizing that relying on others didn't make her weak...it made her human. Nor did it escape her notice that Ian was changing too, and that made her own transformation somewhat easier to accept. She couldn't demand he alter who he was to accommodate her and not do the same for him.

She was growing up, she thought with a laugh. Ironic, since before meeting Ian, she'd believed her independence defined her and was the most important thing in her life.

"Something funny?" Ian slid beside her on the bed and pulled her into his arms.

"Not really. Just thinking about how different things are for me lately."

"Good different or bad different?" he asked, nuzzling her neck with his lips.

"Are you searching for compliments?" she asked.

He nipped her collarbone in reply, and she groaned. Every nerve ending tingled, her nipples puckered, her body on high alert, ready for him. Another thing that had changed. She was always s.e.xually charged now.

"Get showered and ready; we're going out for dinner tonight with another couple," he told her.

She bolted up in bed. "What? Who?"

He yanked her down and back into his arms, where she immediately felt safe and secure. "Your stepmother and her husband."

She rolled so she could look at his handsome face. "I don't get it."

"What's not to get? You love her, I haven't met her.... It's time."

"Does my father resurfacing have anything to do with this sudden invitation?" she asked him.

Ian shrugged. "I won't deny it put the idea in my head. Maybe she's heard from him too."

"She would have told me," Riley said.

"Why? Have you told her?" he pointedly asked.

She winced. "Score," she muttered under her breath.

He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. "Maybe she doesn't want to worry you, same reason you haven't told her. Or maybe he's only focused on you. We need to know. And she needs to be prepared, just in case."

"You're right."

An arrogant grin edged his mouth. "Say that again."

"No."

He cupped her s.e.x with his big hand, and she arched up, immediately seeking more pressure. She'd shed her skirt when she climbed into bed, and he brushed one finger over her mound, drawing small circles over her c.l.i.t, causing an exquisite pressure to build inside her.

"Mmm."

"Like that, do you?" he asked, nibbling on her neck at the same time he continued his sensual a.s.sault.

"Yes. Harder," she said, eyes half-mast as she focused on the pleasure slowly mounting.

He stopped all movement. "First, say it again. 'Ian, you were right.'"

She opened her eyes wide to find him above her, grinning like a fool. Hmm. Give him the words he sought or suffer o.r.g.a.s.m deprivation-because she had no doubt he'd stop completely. Controlling b.a.s.t.a.r.d, she thought, not really meaning it. Not anymore.

"Ian, you're right," she said, and he came down on top of her and spent the next thirty minutes catering to her body, giving her two o.r.g.a.s.ms that had her screaming out her release.