Mine to Keep (Mine 2)

He put down his coffee. “You want something for breakfast? I have a chef on call here, and I can get—”

“I want to know where you were last night.” She walked toward him. Skye had a soft, graceful stride. She’d been made to dance. And even though she didn’t want the stages of New York anymore—

“Trace.”

He smiled at her, enjoying the bite in her voice. “I had business to take care of.”

“Business…like with that man, Ben?”

Yes. “He won’t be bothering you again.”

“He never bothered me. What bothered me was you. Or, more specifically, you not telling me about your past.”

And he wouldn’t tell her. Trace forced a careless shrug. “The past is dead and buried. I told you before, I only care about our future.”

Her lips tightened. The woman had gorgeous lips. Full and red, and so wonderfully soft. He could kiss her for hours.

For a moment, he thought she’d argue with him. Skye braced her delicate shoulders and she said, “I’m going back to my dance studio today.”

He blinked. Ah, tricky lady. She’d thrown him off. But he nodded. “Of course, Reese can drive you and stand guard while—”

“No.” Her voice was flat and adamant. “I can get to the studio by myself, and I don’t need any sort of guard.”

His hands braced against the table. “After what happened to you—”

“The man who was stalking me is dead. I don’t have to worry about him anymore.” Her slightly pointed chin kicked up into the air a notch. “I don’t need a guard, Trace. What I need is to be able to lead my life on my own terms.”

He’d suspected this was coming. He’d dreaded this confrontation for days. “What about the press?”

Her laughter held a bitter edge. “We ran away from them. Wasn’t that the point of our trip to the Keys? To hide out there until the reporters moved on to the next juicy story.”

A prima ballerina who’d been abducted and held captive for days by her ex-lover definitely counted as a juicy story. Her face had been splashed on all the papers in the country, and her story had been broadcast again and again on the TV news shows.

“I have to get back to normal. I need normal.” Then she shook her head. “And I need my dancing.”

She always had. Dancing had gotten Skye through some of the darkest moments in her life. Dancing had also taken her from his life.

“I want you to keep a guard with you,” he began.

Skye opened her mouth to argue.

“Please,” Trace said, the word grating from him. “At least for the first few days, just until we make sure the reporters aren’t going to swarm like locusts on you.” He closed the space between them. Caught her wrist in his hand. Such a fragile wrist. The black bruises from the handcuffs no longer marked her.

That bastard Mitch had kept her handcuffed for days. He’d starved her. Tried to take her away.

But the bruises had faded.

She’d healed.

Trace hadn’t forgotten the fear.

“Let Reese stay with you,” he said, as his fingers smoothed over her wrist. “Just for a few days.”

“F-fine. Just at first, okay? Because I won’t be kept prisoner by anyone. Not even you, Trace.” She pulled away from him. “I have to get back to my routine. I want to open that dance studio, and I will do it.”

Skye. Always so determined. Her determination was one of the things he loved about her.

He watched her for a moment longer as she puttered around the kitchen. “You didn’t like the diamonds.” He’d been worried about that. Skye wasn’t the type for flash, but he wanted to shower her in diamonds.

She glanced back at him in surprise. “Of course, I did. They’re incredible.”

He had the feeling she was just saying those words to make him happy. The woman didn’t get it. Everything he did was for her. If she didn’t like diamonds, then he’d get her rubies. He’d buy her anything and everything that she wanted.

But, well, he knew that what she wanted—Skye wanted to head back to her dance studio and work herself down to the bone again.

Trace cleared his throat. “I took the liberty of having some…upgrades made to the studio while we were away.” He figured he might as well tell her about those additions now.

Before they’d left town, Skye had rented an old fire station and she’d planned to convert the place into her new dance studio. He’d…helped…with those conversion plans.

“Upgrades?”

“Security. Cameras. Alarms.” Because he wouldn’t put her at risk. “I knew you’d want to go back.” He shrugged. “And I needed you to be safe when you did.”

Her lips tilted up and her eyes seem to warm. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

He did. Skye’s love was his certainty in life.

Sometimes, he felt like it might be his only one.

He smiled back at her. “Of course, you do. What’s not to love?”

And she laughed. A true, beautiful laugh. Light and free. He could see it then—see her coming back to him. Skye was pushing past her fear and trying to be happy once again.

He would do anything, everything, to make sure that she stayed happy.

“Arrogant,” she teased.

His head tilted in acknowledgment. He was. Arrogant. Controlling. Trace was well aware of his many faults.

And Skye still loved him? He was a lucky bastard, and he knew it.

“It’s a good thing you’re sexy,” she said, giving him a wink. “Something has to balance that arrogance.” And she left him, giving a saucy roll of her hips as she walked away.

He didn’t move. Just watched. Enjoyed the view.

I will always love you, Skye. Always.

When she gazed at him, love was in Skye’s eyes, too. Yet Trace couldn’t help but wonder…if she ever learned the full truth about him and all the things he’d done, would Skye still look at him the same way?

***

Trace had done more than a little bit of work at the fire station. “Upgrades, my ass,” Skye whispered.

He’d completely renovated the place.

Skye stepped inside the converted fire station, her gaze darting to the left and the right.

The hard-wood floors gleamed. Barres had been placed to run the length of the right wall. Floor to ceiling mirrors circled the main room, throwing her reflection back at her.