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He’s a mature alpha, former MI6 agent.
She’s a young temptress.
Together, they’re INVINCIBLE.

A job, a favor for the Queen. But protecting this young, sexy spitfire, is frustrating, as she parades around half-naked and ready for anything. But it’s a job, I have to stay focused on the mission, not her body. When her safety is threatened, my sixth sense kicks in. With her life on the line, I realize, it’s so much more than a job.

Years Drowning, suffocating, and stifled. I want out of this life I’m trapped in. Now he’s watching my every move, and everything goes into overdrive. He may be here to protect me, but with a sexy and rugged man watching me, I’ll do anything to get him all RILED up. 


When I close my eyes, your voice floats through the jet’s white noise and settles on my heart like a cold mist. And then you’re gone. Always gone before I can make sense of the words you so desperately want me to hear. I stop short of crying out for you to say it again, beg like I always do, for you to stay with me and never leave.

I wait for the pain as it claws its way back into my soul. There’s comfort in the familiar. At least I know I can feel…something. My eyes fill with unshed tears, and I murmur your name. Celestina. More than my northern star, you were my sun, my moon, my universe, my guiding light. Without you, I’m lost. So lost.

Forcing my eyes open, I look out the plane’s window as we begin our descent to Mallorca, the island that has become my home because it’s where you rest and will, for all eternity.

I stayed in my seat while the Bombardier taxied from the private runway to the hangar it shared with the much larger planes the DeLéons kept at their disposal. Part of me wished I could tell the pilot to turn around and take me back to Italy.

I stood, stretched my legs, and peered out another window when I saw my valet pull the black 1963 Mercedes-Benz 190 SL out of the same hangar the plane would soon be stored in. I smiled when he lowered the top; it was perfect convertible weather—sunny, but not too hot. May truly was the best month on the island.

I took one step down the plane’s ramp when I was overcome by what felt like a hurricane-force gale, yet the air was still. I gripped the railing with one hand while I rubbed my temple with the other as the message came through, loud and clear.

Kensington is in danger.

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