“There certainly will be. My condolences, ma’am.”

Turning away, he began what seemed like a very long trip out of the parlor, only to hear her say, “Oh, and that poor man is crippled. My father always had a soft spot for the poor and unfortunate.”

It was a while before Edward’s consciousness returned from wherever it had momentarily evaporated to—and he discovered that he had walked himself out the grand front door instead of back to the kitchen and where he’d parked Shelby’s truck.

In fact, he was standing on Easterly’s steps, the astoundingly beautiful river view down below something that he had managed to disregard the entire time he had lived at the mansion, both as a child and as a young adult, and, later, as the business leader he had become.

And yet as his eyes took it all in now, he wasn’t awestruck by nature’s beauty or inspired by the landscape’s breadth or even sad for what he had lost and was currently missing. No, what occurred to him … was that his mother, believing he was a mere stablehand, would not have approved of his exit. Staff were only allowed to use certain prescribed entrances, all of which were in the rear of the house.

He had gone out the formal door.

His legs were weak as he took a step down. And then another. And then a final one to the cobblestones of the circular drive and parking area.

Dragging himself forth, he set a path around to the back of the great white mansion, to a stranger’s truck that had been loaned to him with the generosity of a family member.

Or at least how you wished a family member would—

“Edward—Edward!”

Of course, he thought as he continued on. But of course his escape could not have gone unencumbered.

Sutton had no problem catching up to him. And as she touched his arm, he wanted to keep going, but his feet stopped: As always, his flesh listened to her over anything and anyone, including himself. And oh, she was flushed with upset, her breath too quick for the short distance she had traveled, her eyes so wide.

“She didn’t recognize you,” Sutton said. “She just … didn’t recognize you.”

God, she was beautiful. Those red lips. That dark hair. That tall, perfectly proportioned body. He had known her for so long, fantasized about her for so long, one would think when he saw her there would be no further revelations. But no, that was not the case.

His fantasies of her were going to have to keep him going, however. The way things were headed, with what was happening on the estate … they were all he was going to have for quite some time.

“Edward …” As her voice cracked, he felt the pain she was feeling sure as if it were his own. “Edward, I’m sorry.”

Closing his eyes, he laughed harshly at himself. “Do you have any idea how much I love that sound? The sound of my name on your lips? It’s rather sad, really.”

When he reopened his lids, she was staring at him in shock.

“I am not of my right mind,” he heard himself say. “Not at this moment.”

In fact, he felt like things were falling off shelves up there, great weights tumbling and hitting the floor of his skull, their contents spilling out and getting broken into shards.

“I’m sorry?” she whispered. “What?”

Taking her hand, he said, “Come with me.”

With a pounding heart, Sutton followed Edward as he led her off. She wanted to ask where they were going, but the haunted expression on his face kept her quiet. And besides, she didn’t care. The garage. The fields. The river.

Anywhere. Even though it was crazy.

He was just … undeniable.

As usual.

As they came around to the back of the house, there were a number of waiters loitering by the kitchen screen door, their bow ties hanging loose around their necks, a cigarette lit here and there, a number of portable ice coolers, all in U of C red, waiting to get loaded into a Ford truck.

Edward bypassed them and continued on to the business center.

There were no fancy sedans parked along its flank. No lights in the windows—although that might have been because the drapes were drawn. No one coming and going.

And there was no problem for him to get inside, the code he entered on the pad freeing up the lock.

Inside, the air was cool and dry, and the darkness, coupled with the relatively low ceilings, made her feel like she was entering a cave … a very nice cave with deep pile carpeting and oil paintings on the walls and a full-service kitchen she had heard about but never personally sampled the wares of.

“What are we doing?” she asked his back as he kept on limping along.

He did not reply. He just led her into a conference room … and closed the door.

And locked it.

There was nothing but dim security lighting on in the corners of the room, the royal blue drapes closed as tightly as if they were zippered shut, the glossy table clear of anything save a flower arrangement in the center that appeared to be a few days old.

There were twelve leather chairs.

He pushed the one at the head of the table out of the way and then he turned to her. Came up to her. Lowered his eyes at her body.

As her lungs began to sting from a sweet suffocation, she knew exactly why they were here … and she also knew she wasn’t going to deny them this.

It made no sense. But she was desperate and so was he, and sometimes the primordial overrode all logic and self-protection.

“I want you,” he said as his eyes roamed over her, hot and greedy. “And I’d tell you I need you, but that truth scares me too much to say it out loud. Oops.”

She reached for him. Or maybe it was the other way around.

And oh, God, the way he kissed her, hungry and demanding as one of his hands locked on at the back of her neck—and the other circled her waist. With a lurch, he walked her backward until she felt the table bump against her hamstrings.

“Can you get up on this?” he groaned against her mouth. “I can’t lift you.”

Typical of the Bradfords, everything was the best of the best, and even though she was a healthy weight, the table didn’t care in the slightest as she hopped up on it.

Edward’s hands pushed her skirt higher and higher as he kissed her even more deeply. And then he worked his way between her thighs, his fingers trailing up her blouse and stripping off the Armani jacket she had on. She was the one who took her hair out of its chignon.

Buttons came loose under his deft fingers, and then her breasts were exposed, the lace cups of her bra getting pushed aside as he bent down and got her even hotter. Letting herself go, she fell back on the slick conference table and he followed, staying with her, covering her with his body.