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me find her before.”
    “I was helping my cousin Vax that day. He felt responsible for her, and wanted to be sure she was returned to you unscathed.”
    “Arceneaux, I’ll compensate you handsomely.”
    “No promises.”
    “Wait. My phone says I have a text.” There was a pause. “It’s from Natalya. It says she’s going out of town for the weekend.”
    “Oh, then great, we know she’s fine.”
    “No. I don’t trust it. It doesn’t sound like her. Listen, I’m telling you, she’s not the same woman. I need you to help me. To help her.”
    Did he really want to get involved with looking for her ? How the hell was he supposed to get her off his mind if he spent his time looking for her ?
    “Tell me the last time you saw her and where that was.”
    “Thank you.” Her father’s voice was a tired old man’s voice. So different than the last time Lézare had talked to him.

Chapter 5
    N atalya looked at the invitation . She’d looked at it for weeks, since the day it had arrived at her father’s house. It was worn from her fingers tracing the raised gold lettering, creased from where she’d folded it so she could keep it close all the time. If she didn’t have her purse, she carried it in her back pocket.
    A part of it was stained. Tears she’d shed one day. Silly tears.
    She tried to think of the girl she used to be. The girl she’d been nine months ago when she’d first met the man who’d made her shed those tears. She was a petulant, petty, vengeful terror then. She’d shown her worse side. She’d been a brat. Her father’s brat.
    When Lézare and his men brought her back to her father’s house, she’d stomped her foot and stormed off.
    Who the hell was I?
    She didn’t like the girl she used to be. She didn’t like her at all.
    Shortly afterward, she’d enrolled in several courses at the college, and then, unbeknownst to her father, she’d started working at the homeless shelter on Fridays and Saturdays.
    Her French-tipped manicure was long gone, replaced by chewed nails on fingers that had calluses on them from wielding a kitchen knife at the shelter.
    During hour after hour of chopping vegetables, she’d reflected on who she used to be, and began to appreciate the little things in life. The smile of a child at the shelter when she gave him an extra dessert.
    The appreciative glow on one woman’s face when Natalya brought in more than half her wardrobe so the woman would be able to go apply for a job.
    Natalya actually liked who she was now. She liked the new Natalya a lot.
    And others did too. She met new friends at the shelter and at school, friends who didn’t care that her father was rich, or that he ran a multi-million-dollar corporation and was one of the more powerful shifters in town. Well, actually, they didn’t know that last part.
    She sat behind the wheel of her Acura and studied the invitation, her fingers tingling where they traced Lézare Arceneaux’s name.
    Him.
    He was the one she wanted. And he knew who the real Natalya was. The hot-tempered, impulsive brat he’d met.
    Except I’m not that person anymore.
    Much.
    She was still hot-tempered. Still impulsive and spontaneous. She just wasn’t a little shit anymore.
    Oh, who was she kidding? He wouldn’t want her, not when he could have any stunning shifter he wanted. Why would he want her, with her overabundance of curves, her overly full lips, her thick brows, and even thicker thighs?
    Her phone buzzed in the passenger’s seat. She didn’t want to look to see who it was. She’d left home, didn’t want to talk to anyone, hadn’t left a note.
    Maybe I’m still an inconsiderate brat. I shouldn’t worry Papi like that.
    She picked up her phone and texted her father a short message saying she was going out of town for the weekend. At least this way, she knew that he was aware she was okay.
    She knew what she had to do. She had to go to Louisiana. She had to go to Arceneaux Point.

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    N atalya was an hour away