Burned Hearts (Burned 3)

Neither of us came up with anything more significant to ponder. We spent a few more hours in the vault, with no substantial results.

After dinner, Dane showed me to his bedroom. He employed full house staff who maintained the mansion and grounds and kept clean linens on the beds and in the bathrooms. There were plenty of spirits and wines stocked throughout and food in the freezers and pantries, all in the event Dane dropped in unexpectedly, as he said he was prone to do from time to time. Whenever he traveled abroad, he flew out of Philadelphia so he could spend the night at the mansion.

I got the feeling he missed it. Mostly, he probably missed his aunt Lara. But since he’d grown up here, I could see how the memories would anchor him to the estate.

We showered, then got ready for bed.

As we settled under the covers, I asked, “Did your parents have this house built?”

“No, it’s a family estate. My great-great-grandfather bought the land and constructed the main portion of the mansion. My great-grandfather added the west wing. My grandfather added the east wing. My father built the solarium and greenhouse.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“So much family history,” I mused. “Generations intricately connected. Seriously, Dane, it would only make sense for your father—and maybe his father and so on—to be involved with the society.”

“Too bad there’s no one I can covertly ask. My ancestors are dead and I don’t trust anyone in the network at this point. We’re pretty much on our own, baby.”

My fingertips glided over his temple and chiseled cheekbone. “You’re not used to this. You’re more accustomed to knowing exactly who to call in any given situation.”

“It was a lot different having a network at my disposal. Especially one I helped to build.”

“Is there any chance network members would come after us at this point?”

He was quiet a few moments. His silence did not bode well for my nerves.

“Dane,” I eventually prompted, unable to handle the suspense a second longer.

“There’s always a chance of something like that. Even Tom turned on me, when his back was to the wall. Others could feel threatened by what I might have offered to the FBI, the IRS, and international agencies.”

As much as I’d convinced myself that Dane returning home meant the end of the danger, I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. That cut-and-dried.

With all the sinister machinations to brood over, I decided now was as good a time as any to give Dane some potentially happier news. Maybe something to take his mind off the chaos for at least a few minutes.

So I told him, “All those holes on your office wall weren’t just for my web or the nursery decorations. I had another project I started while you were away. I removed all the evidence before you returned.”

One dark brow lifted. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Hear me out first. Then decide.” I remained cuddled alongside him, my head on his chest, my fingers gliding lightly over his warm skin and hard muscles.

“I’m listening,” he said. “Though you know how much you’re distracting me, right?”

“I can’t resist touching you.”

“I’m not complaining. But you’d better tell me what’s on your mind, because mine’s wandering in a totally different direction.”

The sensual tinge to his voice almost made me forget what I had to say. Almost.

I bucked up. Dove right in. “You know that when we all thought you were dead everything you owned became mine. All that money, all those investments.”

“You started another foundation,” he guessed. “Ari, that’s not a problem. I told you, my money is your money, whether I’m alive or not. If you found another cause you want to support, I’m fully behind you. In fact, I’m impressed with your philanthropic nature.”

“I am extremely grateful I was able to set up the autism and low-income, single-mom foundations to help others, Dane. I have you to thank for that, because, at the end of the day, it’s your cash flow supporting both.”

“No, Ari.” His arm about my shoulders held me tighter. “Baby, I told you. It’s yours. Ours. And you dedicating funds to something meaningful and worthwhile is never, ever going to be an issue with me. You don’t have to ask. You don’t have to worry about getting my approval. I trust you. Implicitly.”

Emotion welled within me. As of now, I was just about the only one he trusted, aside from Amano and Jackson. So I knew what a mo