The Manhattan Encounter. Addison Fox

her head. “No. They’d already come and gone before I left for your grandparents.”

      “I’m sorry but I need a bit more. What set you off?”

      He sat down next to Isabella, trying to make sense of her reaction. The woman appeared stable—and his grandfather’s endorsement of the same went a long way toward keeping Liam from second-guessing her—but the room looked as if no one had touched it since housekeeping. Was she imagining the threat against her?

      “The curtains are off.”

      “Where?” He crossed to the hanging drapes, the city visible through a veil of rain outside the window. He saw the London Eye in the distance, the lights of its bright wheel like diamonds in the wet mist, and wondered what Isabella could possibly be seeing.

      “There. Where the edge hangs open. It was flush against my suitcase when I left.”

      Liam didn’t touch the curtain, instead taking in her description. “And before?”

      She got off the bed, her pallor fading as she took stock of her surroundings. She pointed toward her small black suitcase before brushing her fingers over the handle. “When I left, I settled my luggage against the wall, the edge lined up to the curtain. Look at it now. The drape hangs over the edge of my bag.”

      Liam crouched down, and saw how the curtain hung over the edge of her small suitcase. “You’re sure?”

      “Of course.” A small sigh drifted from her lips before she crouched down next to him, her fingers brushing the edge of the curtain. “I’m precise that way. I like things to line up. I know how I left it and that’s not how it is now.”

      “Anything else?”

      She got back to her feet and pointed toward the top of the suitcase. “The zippers aren’t lined up. I always put them in the center. Those are off. I’m—”

      “You’re what.”

      “I like order. It’s silly, I know, but they’re small things that comfort me.”

      He knew about order. And the desperate need for it that formed from the midst of chaos. Her light scent filled his nose once more, that subtle blend of roses wafting from her skin, and Liam tried desperately to keep his wits about him.

      Roses were for women his grandmother’s age. Women who perfumed themselves in tepid fragrances that were safe and watered down.

      So why did the scent seem exotic and highly erotic as it drifted from her heated skin?

      Liam ignored that subtle tug of attraction and got to his feet, pulling out his phone. His brother’s voice filled his ear a few moments later. “Twice in one night. First Kenzi and now me. What’s going on, O Silent One?”

      “I need you to hack into a few video cameras for me.”

      Campbell snorted. “Sure. Cuz it’s that easy.”

      “For you it is.” Liam gave his brother a quick rundown of what they’d discovered upon their arrival and Isabella’s conviction someone had been in her room.

      “That’s a nice hotel. It’s not like anyone can walk up and sneak into a room. It’s a pretty locked-down environment.”

      “Which is why you’re going to hack it.” Liam knew barely enough to be dangerous when it came to computers but his brother, on the other hand...

      Liam had learned long ago to leverage Campbell’s skills and not ask questions.

      “What time do you think it happened?”

      “Between six and ten tonight.”

      The light tapping of keys along with a few muttered curse words gave Liam the confidence to end the call. “Be quick. If you work through dinner Abby’ll have my ass.”

      “Then it’s lucky for you I’m damn good at what I do.”

      “You’re in already?”

      “No, but close. Leave there and take her to the grandparents. I’ll call you later.”

      “I can’t take her there. They’re worried enough.”

      “Then take her to that new, fancy flat you bought.”

      Liam held back the shocked “Hell no” and instead opted for something a bit more diplomatic. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

      Campbell let out a long, low whistle. “She must be something special if you’re afraid to take her home.”

      “I’m not afraid.”

      “Keep telling yourself that, Big Brother. Keep telling yourself that.”

      * * *

      Isabella glanced around the impressive apartment and marveled that Liam Steele lived here. She’d understood him to be New York-based so the fact that he kept a London flat—and flat really was too simple a word for the floor-to-ceiling windows and what had to be about two thousand square feet—but she chalked it up to family money and success in a highly paid profession.

      “I thought you lived in New York.”

      “I do. I just live here, too. I bought the place in January. I spend a lot of time here in London and it seemed wiser than throwing my money away on hotels.”

      “I’m sure your grandparents would love to have you.”

      Despite the lingering fear that hadn’t fully left her since leaving her hotel, she couldn’t hold back the smile at the mixture of shock and—if she weren’t mistaken, subtle horror—that tensed Liam’s jaw.

      Keeping her amusement to herself, her gaze drifted back to the view, the depth of the Steele wealth not lost on her. She knew she was fortunate—she paid her bills and still afforded a nice apartment by New York standards—but none of it changed the fact she lived in the human equivalent of a nice shoe box and he...didn’t.

      Isabella saw Liam move closer through the reflection in the glass. “Do you want a drink?”

      “No, thank you. I had enough at dinner.”

      “Something hot, then? Tea?”

      The traditionally British offering felt like the right thing and she turned away from the window. “That sounds nice.”

      The tea was nice and ten minutes later, when he placed a mug in front of her and settled another for himself, she couldn’t hold back the subtle surprise. “I didn’t take you for the tea type.”

      “And I didn’t take you for the type to gather the interest of some very nasty people. We’re all full of surprises.”

      “I suppose we are.”

      Her hands fumbled in the waistband of her sweater and she worried the cashmere between her fingers. The gesture was silly—and far from comforting—but she kept up anyway.

      “You can relax here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

      “That’s what I thought about the hotel.”

      “They’re not going to hurt you here.”

      His tone brooked no argument and she reached for her tea once more, warming her hands on the mug. “I never thought it would come to this.”

      He hesitated, which was another surprise as she sat there, taking in the solid lines of his face. Whatever else Liam Steele might be, he seemed to have no issue with being direct. The fact that hard jaw stayed closed added another layer of tension to the discussion.

      “Come out with it. You can’t insult me.”

      “How couldn’t you think it would come to this? You’ve discovered something of deep value.”

      “To me, yes.”

      “To everyone.” His blue eyes glittered under the overhead light of the