Hottest Mess (SIN 2)

"Yeah?"

"Look at me." When I do, he continues, his voice firm. "I wanted this. I think we needed it."

"To be hounded by the press?" I can practically hear the hysteria in my voice. "Our affair almost revealed?"

"No," he says calmly. "To go out in public. To act like we're just a couple on a date. To feel like we're part of the world, and not still in a concrete cell in London."

His words push through my fear, because I understand that. How many times have I felt like he and I are still trapped, social taboos and laws and our family's disapproval keeping us as firmly imprisoned as the Jailer and the Woman once did?

"I don't regret, tonight," he says. "I didn't intend for the media to notice us, but I don't even regret that. Okay?" He takes my chin and turns my head so that I have no choice but to look at him again.

"But what if they push the story? What if Daddy hears about it?" The idea of our relationship trending on Twitter scares the crap out of me. But not as much as the ire that will come down on us when our father gets wind of what is between me and Dallas.

"Then we'll deal," he says reasonably. "If it happens, we'll survive. We've survived worse, Jane. We've survived hell." He holds my gaze, his so tender I feel like weeping.

"Okay?" he asks gently.

I nod, and before I can add a spoken yes, he slants his mouth over mine, kissing me long and deep, making me forget my lingering fears. Soothing me. Saving me. Letting me lose myself in the pleasure of this man who has sworn so many times that he will always protect me.

He will, I know, and I melt gratefully into his arms for the short drive home.

When we arrive, we hurry up the steps, both of us wanting to get inside. Wanting to touch and kiss and finish this night lost in the warmth of each other's arms. I'm giddy as he unlocks the door and leads us through the main door to the small alcove that doubles as a mudroom.

But my laughter fades when he stops cold and I slam against him, not expecting him to freeze so suddenly.

"Dallas, what's wrong?" I ask, but I don't need him to tell me. I see the answer well enough--a blue envelope sitting menacingly on the floor. It's in a clear plastic bag and was obviously pushed through the mail slot. "Oh, shit. Here?" I ask as he bends to pick it up. "Oh, god, if she sent it here, then she must know about us, and--"

"No, it's okay." There is relief in Dallas's voice. "There's a messenger slip in the envelope. It came to the mansion. Archie sent it over."

"Oh." I'm ashamed at how relieved I am. I don't want Dallas receiving creepy stalker letters, but I really don't want the creepy stalker to out the two of us to the world.

"Come on," he says, leading us the rest of the way inside before opening the note.

I read over his shoulder, then murmur, "Bitch," as I see the words:

When will you understand? When will you touch me? When will you see that there is no woman except me? They are all just noise coming between us?

I meet Dallas's eyes. His are hard. Mine, I'm sure, are full of worry. "Give it to Liam," I say. "Tell him to pull out all the stops. You have to figure it out before she does something."

"You think she's unstable."

"I think she's a fucking nutcase," I admit, and I see Dallas's shoulders drop as he nods.

"Liam's on it," he says. "He doesn't think it's Fiona, by the way. She could have an excellent poker face, but he told me he didn't see even a hint of a reaction when he showed her the envelope in my room and led her out of the house."

"I already told you who I think it is. And Fiona's way too young to be the Woman."

He sighs. "I know." He pulls me into his arms, then kisses my forehead.

I cling to him. "If it is the Woman and she saw us together--" I tremble, because the Woman is one of the few people in the world who knows what Dallas and I are to each other.

Apparently Dallas is thinking along the same lines, because he asks if I noticed anyone watching us at the movie or at the Balcony.

"No one. You?"

He shakes his head, then kisses me again. "No more worrying about this tonight. Come on," he says, taking my hand. "I want to take you to bed."

I smile,