Head still reeling, Victory followed Nora from the elevator bank to the upper lounge of the lobby that curved towards red-carpeted stairs and brass banisters. This was like something out of an old movie, she thought hazily, and her world had taken on the very sheen and shimmer of a fairy-tale.

The sight of him, standing by the curved staircase, smiling and laughing with his brother and friends, had brought on a sudden burst of emotion, a bittersweet tangle of joy and panic, so strong, so real it had almost knocked her legs out from under her.

And the instant that he'd looked up, his eyes—sensually blue and full of fun, Victory gripped the rail as her heart slipped, tumbled, fell the rest of the way down to land at his feet.

Maybe she'd already fallen, she realized, inching her way along ever since that first night at Century. But this moment was the unmistakable finish line, the instant she knew—beyond doubt or reason—that her heart would love no other than Ryder Gage Donovan.

And was it any wonder? She'd opened enough with him and he'd graciously, without reservation or judgment, accepted her failures and still looked at her with such admiration.

His forward motion stopped, mostly because the sight of her almost knocked the legs out from under him. The dress, an icy white number ethereal as moonlight, cut across at one shoulder, high on the collar, hugging every curve with to flare and float away from her hips.

At the base of the stairs, Victory did a slow turn, and cast a sultry look over her shoulder, batting long lashes. "How do I look?"

The long line of her shapely left leg, revealed through an ingenious thigh high slit, ended in a sparkle of silver needle-thin heels covered in rhinestones. She'd draped his mother's sapphires around her neck and diamonds from her ears so she seemed to glitter and pulse, shimmery as a star, in the light of the hotel foyer.

His eyes, deep and intense blue, raked over her for slow and lingering beats, then rose to meet hers. "You're...sensational."

Pleased she ran a hand over the iridescent fabric. "Your mom picked it out." A glow infusing her cheeks, born from equal parts of breathless excitement and anxious nerves, she took his hand in hers.

"Shall we?"

#

The night had been a blur of flashing light and flowing champagne, both of which seemed to continue to flash and flow behind her eyes. But the moment that was the clearest was the instant she'd stepped out of the limo, her hand in Gage's, and took her first step onto the red carpet.

Her initial thought?—wow! The rush and excitement, she'd never seen so many people—attendees, press and even fans, wedged in tight between bodyguards and guardrails, screaming and shouting as they caught sight of their favourite celebrity.

The swath of Hollywood red ran down the length of the block, illuminated by spiralling spotlights and the wall of paparazzi wielding cameras and microphones

And in that chaotic blur, Gage was calm and cool as the easy smile on his face, expertly he steered through smiling poses as they made the slow and steady walk towards the Sphinx's open doors. But rather than push on through—as she'd expected him to—he'd abruptly turned around, and with all the dramatic flair fit for the big screens, swung her in for a dip he sealed with a kiss.

The cameras had loved it; the fans had gone crazy.

And for the rest of the evening, Victory would swear her feet never touched the ground.

He'd brought her up to the Isis suite, and here she stood, gazing down at the city.

Wind, warm and damp, danced through the open window with the fragrant air of summer highlighted in silver dust of moon and stars.

Had any woman ever looked so beautiful? Gage wondered as he stood there, watching her in silence and shadows. There, she glowed as silver and radiant as the moon slanting its fragile light over her.

Behind her, Gage pressed his lips to the exposed curve of her left shoulder, held there, drinking her in. So much emotion, tenderness and need swelled in him that he had to take a moment to rein it all back in, unaware that the same vibrant currents churned within Victory as well.

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" He asked and almost lost his breath when she turned in his arms and smiled so bright, so dazzling he wanted to fall to one knee right there.

"Incredible." Victory walked her fingers up his chest, her honey brown eyes glittering with promise as she brushed her lips over his jaw, trailing her silken lips up his throat. Her delicate touch wound his body into a canvas of muscle wrought tight with need. Teeth clenched, he hissed as her tongue skimmed along the lobe of his ear.

"There's...there's something—we should..."

Victory silenced him with a press of her lips to his mouth. "Later." She nipped his chin delicately, then stepped back so that she stood, haloed in moonlight and whispered, "Just watch me."

Mouth dry, Gage could only nod numbly as she unfastened the gown and slipped the first inch of fabric from her shoulder, and then when his breath caught, let it slide and drop to her waist.

"Sweet mother of god," he lifted a hand, bit down on the knuckles. "Was that underneath your dress all night?"

She answered the question with a sly smile, sliding her gaze up to his as she let the rest of the gown pool at her feet, liquid moonlight, then stepped out, still wearing sky high heels, his mother's sapphires and just enough silver lace to turn him into her slave.

He couldn't move, didn't dare—because if he reached out, if he touched, he was likely to succumb to the deep and dark rumbling hungers of the beast prowling in his belly.

Seeing his valiant struggle, Victory held out her hand, smiled as he slid his into hers, drawing her against him. This was it, she realized as her heart leapt, kicked and spun. This was the man she could see by her side, through each summer and winter, each birthday and Christmas, waking up to in the mornings and going to sleep with at night; a startling realization that evoked a little trickle of panic born from the uncertainty of the unknown.

But as he slipped his hand along her cheek, as his lips descended for a kiss, slow and lingering and soft, everything else was swept aside, leaving only the truth.

"Gage," she whispered, fingers threading through his hair, stilling him, drawing him back so she could see him—to say...

Maybe it was the night, or the champagne, or just him, so sweet and attentive and just heart wrenchingly charming in his suit. Or perhaps because her heart still hadn't settled from that sweeping kiss that stole her breath before the world...but the words were suddenly there, in her heart and in her throat, aching to be spoken.

Forgetting fear, forgetting doubt, she let them come.

"I'm in love with you."

Time spun out, long, slow beats, before Gage smiled, just a slight lift at the corner as his eyes danced, even in the dark, with joy. "It's about fucking time."

As the love in him burned for release, he began to show her using long, slow caresses, quiet sips and tastes. His lips aroused, his hands devastated, but this time he refused to hurry. Peeling away the garment of sheer lace, he explored the areas he knew she was most sensitive, from the sweet underside of her breast to the back of her knee and then down to the soft valley between her thighs.

And when his mouth found her, warm and sultry heat, the sharp lash of his hunger surged with all the urgency of a whip, flashing against him so hard and strong, dragging out his moan to collide with hers.

Against the ravenous strokes of his tongue, Victory arched, her body locked in spasms at the eager demand as the rhythm changed. With his breath growing ragged, he lifted his head, his eyes intent on her face. Gage slid his hand between her thighs and pressed against the dripping heat. Found her aching...

With tongue and fingers, he played over her, entered her, until her breath quickened with short, sobbing bursts. Pleasure and overwhelmed excitement raced through her eyes, a tangle of sensation and emotions. He watched her climb, closer, closer, with each gasp and moan, then releasing on a strangled cry as she peaked. She tried to shake her head to clear it, but the delicious dizziness continued to spin.

The room revolved, turning her world to a blur where his face was her only anchor in the dizzying torrent of sensation, leaving her drunk and dazed and unspeakably desperate for all of him. Her skin quivered as he slid slowly up her body, his mouth scorching against her skin.

She needed more. Even the shock of orgasm wasn't enough to satisfy the craving for him. Drawing him into her arms, she opened for him, arched.

Between her legs, Gage slid the wide head of his need against her dew-slicked folds, groaned. Savouring the feel of her as she enveloped him. Slowly. So slowly he thought he was almost going mad from the brilliant shock of arousal begging him to sink into oblivion.

His hands linked with hers, his lips drank in her sighs, and filled her. Sighs blended, moans merged in that first endless wave of pleasure that rocked them both. When they began to move, they moved together, smoothly, silkily as if forged from one body rather than two.

Desire flowed from him through her and back against, fluid, its current steady. Together they rode each deep, resonance of pleasure born from long, slow strokes.

Caught in the rising maelstrom, Victory spun close to the edge, the silken rising of an orgasm built, sliding through her soft as satin, so that she wallowed in the glow and wonder of tender release.

Whispering her name, Gage pressed his lips to hers, and followed...

#

Gage loved her throughout the rest of the night, quietly—intensely. Spent, Victory dropped into sleep like a woman falling into a coma. And surfaced, groggy and disoriented, when her alarm sounded just shy of five am.

"For the love of all that is holy, it can't possibly be morning." Gage grumbled as she opened an eye and read the time displayed on the alarm clock.

Turning it off, she sighed, pressed a hand to her eyes. She had to get up and prepare for the Harrow/Gates engagement party at one thirty, so as much as her body begged to lay abed and snuggle in his warmth, there would be no rest for her today.

Rolling to her side, Victory brushed her lips over the scrape of stubble on his cheek "I have to get up," she whispered. "Go back to sleep."

His response was a rumbling snore. And for a moment, a small and devious part of her was tempted to give his adorable butt a ruthless kick out of bed, so that misery could have company. Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed, and she padded silently to the adjoining lounge.

Since they'd occupied the Isis suite, the kitchen was well supplied so she set the coffee to brew while she had a quick shower, and it was ready by the time she jumped out. In lieu of her usual Captain Crunch, Victory helped herself to a muffin from an assortment set in a complimentary platter of assorted pastries, bagels and sliced cakes, and took her impromptu breakfast outside onto the terrace.

Wrapped in a thick, plush hotel robe, stretched out on a comfortable chaise, she savoured her first taste of the exceptional blend of brewed beans and sighed.

Hard to beat the view, she thought, or the feel of that hushed early hour, both clearing away the last vestiges of the sleepy fog she couldn't shake in the shower. She nibbling a bite of the carrot and raisin muffin, her brain slowly awakening as the sky transitioned to palest pink in the east, the spread of the cityscape gradually emerging through the haze of receding night.

Nothing like seeing the sunrise, to witness that single moment of nature's artistry. Each day was different, the colours and blending of light, the texture of clouds, the weight of the breeze. Sometimes the dawn could be cool and soft, or warm as a lover's kiss, but always, she thought, always it took your breath away, striking the most tender cords within the heart. Enrapturing the soul.

No wonder at all, she smiled, that she'd chosen the sun as her symbol of survival and strength.

Beyond her, through the doors of the balcony, she heard the melody of a ringing phone and smiled a wicked, secret grin.

Looked like Gage wouldn't be sleeping in, after all.