Captive At Her Enemy's Command. Heidi Rice

remain firm.

      She wasn’t ready to go back. Not yet.

      “You’re not?” Megan sounded devastated. “Even after this?”

      “I’ll be back soon. I promise,” she said, mindful of their audience. She could feel Caine listening from across the car and judging.

      Not to mention Dario, who she would bet was scowling at the phone right now, not happy about the way she was upsetting his wife.

      “You’ve been away for months now,” Megan came back. “I can’t bear for...” The line crackled and Katie’s guilt began to choke her. Was Megan crying?

      The hollow space in the pit of her belly got larger.

      The muffled sounds finally silenced. Then a door shut and Dario’s voice came over the phone. “Megan is resting now,” he said, by way of explanation.

      “Is she okay?” Katie asked, the guilt all but crippling her. She’d known Megan would worry, but she hadn’t realized she’d worry this much. Megan was usually so practical and calm. “I’m so sorry to have caused—”

      “Don’t say that if it isn’t true, sorellina,” Dario cut in, using the endearment that had meant so much to Katie when he’d first started using it a few years ago.

      Little sister.

      “You say you are sorry for causing Megan this distress, but it is a simple matter to solve the problem.” Her brother-in-law’s usually flawless English had become disjointed, a sure sign he was holding on to his temper with an effort. “All you need to do is come home.”

      “I can’t do that, Dario, please understand.” Inadequacy twisted in her stomach, making unhappy bedfellows with the guilt.

      Why does this have to be so hard?

      She sounded immature and selfish, even to her own ears. But the thought of returning to New York had the inadequacy clawing at her throat, the way it had so often since the night of Whittaker’s attack. She couldn’t go back until she had more to show for her trip than some great anecdotes and a half-hearted show of independence.

      The money she’d made over the last two months with her artwork was all gone, probably paying for a major Pinky and Perky party somewhere. The chances of getting it back were slim to none. She couldn’t return to New York without it because she’d be right back where she started, with Dario and Megan bankrolling her and all her screw-ups.

      She couldn’t tell Dario and Megan about the money she’d lost, though, because they’d offer to replace it, not realizing that it wasn’t the money that mattered so much as the fact she’d earned it herself.

      “And when will you be ready?” Dario asked. “How much longer do you intend to punish your sister this way?”

      “I’m not trying to punish Megan,” she said, the weariness starting to weigh her down. Dario was someone she had always wanted to impress, because he had been the one to save Megan when she had failed. “This isn’t about her. It’s about me.”

      “Yes, I understand, it is always about you,” Dario replied, the sharp tone unlike him. Dario rarely if ever showed his frustration.

      “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “And I’m really sorry I contacted you with this. I shouldn’t have done that, I should have—”

      “No, Katie, don’t say this. We are glad you contacted us,” he said, but she could hear the weary sigh down the phone line—and felt like even more of a fraud.

      Dario was always so certain. So successful. And so was Megan. They knew what they wanted and had set out to get it together. They’d had a few wobbles along the way. But they’d worked through them and succeeded and built an incredible life for themselves.

      But what they had never understood was that she wasn’t like them. She had none of Megan’s steadiness or certainty and none of Dario’s drive or ambition. And she simply wasn’t cut out for long-term relationships. Heck, she’d never even gotten to third base with any of the guys she’d dated over the years—the fear of being subsumed, having her own personality swallowed up by someone else’s, always so much greater than the lure of sexual intimacy.

      That she was still a virgin at twenty-four years old spoke for itself. She didn’t consider it a choice or a flaw, so much as an essential means of survival. She had to find herself first, really get to know who she was and what she wanted, before she could consider risking that fragile identity by blending it with another.

      And, if she ever did find the right guy, it would never be a guy like Dario. As much as she loved him as a brother, marrying someone like him, falling in love with someone like him, would be an unmitigated disaster.

      The way Megan and Dario looked at each other sometimes when they thought no one was watching, the way they touched each other—all those small, insignificant, secret touches that demonstrated not just their off-the-charts sexual chemistry but also how much they loved and respected each other—had always scared Katie. How could anyone trust another person that much? Enough to rely on them absolutely?

      She couldn’t do that—she knew she couldn’t. But living so close to Megan and her family, watching Dario and Megan with their two adorable kids, Izzy and Arturo, had become a double-edged sword.

      She loved being part of a solid, secure unit that wasn’t just her and her sister anymore. But, on the other hand, seeing how happy, how complete, Megan, Dario and their kids were together made her feel like an intruder. The dark cloud on their bright horizon who could contribute nothing to the whole but could only take.

      The tabloid stories of her dancing on tables, or getting arrested during a midnight swim in Central Park Lake, or losing her modeling contract because she had famously decided to chop all her hair off on a whim had hurt Megan and Dario and the kids as much as they’d hurt her.

      Which was exactly why she’d jumped ship and headed to Europe where her celebrity profile was non-existent. The anonymity had been glorious. But, more than that, having to survive on her own had been liberating in ways she couldn’t even have imagined.

      She’d learned some important stuff about herself. Not least of which was that she could enjoy life, do adventurous, exciting stuff, without being reckless or stupid. Or dragging her family through the mud.

      She’d discovered that after four and a half years of screw-ups and embarrassing tabloid headlines, after four and a half years of citations and fines as a result of a string of dumb stunts and thoughtless acts, and after four and a half years of failing to make anything like a decent living she could break that cycle. She could live on her own terms without compromising the happiness of others.

      But New Improved Katie was still a work in progress. And today she was at a crossroads, her fledging independence being tested thanks to Pinky and Perky. But this time she couldn’t take the easy road.

      Getting Dario to understand why she didn’t want his help was going to be an uphill battle, though. Not one she needed right now when she felt as if she were about to dissolve into Caine’s upholstery.

      “I am glad you contacted us,” Dario reiterated. “But you must understand now that you are safer here, with your family, than wandering around Europe on your own,” he continued, the no-nonsense tone one she was sure he used on his employees. “You must fly home tonight. And we will figure this out together.”

      But it’s not your problem, it’s mine, she wanted to scream. But the words were locked in her throat, trapped behind the boulder of guilt. How could she make Megan and him see that their love was stifling her ability to solve her own problems and not empowering her without hurting them even more?

      “Dario, that’s not going to happen, man,” Caine’s gruff voice sliced through Katie’s anxiety. “She can’t fly anywhere for a while.”

      Katie blinked, surprised not just by Caine’s intervention but that he seemed to be on her side. A strange warmth spread