She was waiting for him when he returned to his room, his personal
reward for services rendered.

The white streaks in her hair had been dyed back to their natural
brown color, and with the jeans and t-shirt she had on, no one would
know that she wasn't Sara Pezzini.

No one but him.

She was not Sara.

She would never be Sara.

But as he bore her heavily to the ground, her legs wrapped tightly
around his hips, arms clinging to his shoulders, mouth hot on his
neck, Ian realized one important thing.

She was close enough.