‘Good. But I still can’t fathom why you want more from me. I’m not—’
His turbulent gaze crashed into her. ‘Not beautiful? Yes, you are. Sexy? More than anyone I’ve ever met.’
Yeah, right. ‘I meant I’m not a woman. Not feminine—stuff like that.’
‘Of course you are—’
‘Er…hello? Slippers?’ While he looked wicked and gorgeous in his devilish tux.
‘In your own unique way.’
‘No. I’m not.’ Was she? ‘Nor do I want to be.’ Unveiling that secret part of her would only bring more vulnerabilities. Weakness.
Finn shook his head, his mouth shaping for speech. Then he seemed to think better of it. ‘Listen; while the best place for you is far away from me, we have to work together, boss-lady. At least until the end of the season.’
Was he saying he wasn’t staying with the team? He must know her dad would want him to.
‘I know that.’ The strike of her conscience made her wince. ‘About the boss thing…’
The ghost of a smile softened his sinful mouth. ‘A slight exaggeration on your part, Miss Scott?’
‘Could’ve been,’ she posed lightly.
‘You’ve got balls, Serena, I’ll give you that.’
Their eyes locked once more and she held her breath. Wishing she could read him better. Hating her lack of experience. By the time he tore his eyes free she felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen.
‘Regardless, we’ll still be seeing a lot of each other, so I suggest we endeavour not to end up alone. Unless…’
‘Unless?’
He shifted on his glossy feet. ‘Unless you ever need…a friend.’ He scrubbed his nape with the palm of his hand. A bit uneasy. A whole lot handsome. ‘That’s what you said, wasn’t it? That you’d lost a friend too? So if you ever need one I’ll be there.’
Oh, great. Now he was being all thoughtful. A little bit wonderful. The last thing she needed.
Friendship was a terrible idea. They clashed like titans. But she wasn’t about to throw his offer in his face. She didn’t have the heart. ‘Okay. It’s a deal.’
With a brief nod he turned to walk away.
‘Finn?’
‘Yeah?’
Am I truly beautiful to you? Did you mean it?
‘Don’t forget,’ she said. ‘You owe me a wish.’
Finn stripped his jacket from his body, yanked the black tie from his collar and slung them across the caliginous suite. Then he flopped atop the bed, face down, his insides raw and aching from being clawed to shreds.
Withholding the truth hammered at his conscience, making his temples pound until his vision blurred and he prayed for peaceful slumber. Not that he deserved it. The past was catching up with him, slowly but surely.
He’d been so close to telling her everything. Battling with a promise made, an investigation that could blow wide any day, and an insight that she’d been through her own version of hell.
What had happened to his brave little tigress? She’d cleverly derailed him and he’d never met anyone who’d managed that feat. Were they talking emotional or physical hurt, here? Though in reality maybe it was best he didn’t know.
The imagery taunting his mind made him want to snarl and lash out—vicious, savage with the need for revenge. It made his guts ache with a peculiar primal need to take her in his arms and hold her to him, protect her. Kiss her tenderly, passionately, over and over—make her feel like a real woman.
How was he going to keep his hands off her if she took his offer of friendship?
Exhaustion pulsed through his bones and darkness called to him like an old friend, dragging him into the depths where only nightmares pulsed to life…
Singapore, September, eight months earlier
‘Wakey-wakey, pretty boy.’
Derision leaked from the hoarse oriental twang as the sound of heavy boots clomping over concrete, cracking the grit and filth beneath inch-thick soles, penetrated the lethargic smaze in which his mind wandered.
Hair like the heart of a ruby…fire in its most dangerous form…
The twang grew louder. ‘How are we feeling today?’ But it was the jangle of a loaded key ring slapping against a military toned thigh that finally roused his head from its cushioned spot on the exposed brick wall.
His backside numb from sitting on the damp floor for hours on end, he conspicuously flexed the legs outstretched in front of him, knowing what was to come.
After all, he could set his watch by these guys—if he still had it. As it was, the rare platinum timepiece now graced one of the guard’s thick, brawny wrists.
Four and a half million he’d been paid to wear that watch—to have his face plastered on every billboard from here to Timbuktu.
Easy money.
Exactly what these men wanted from him. He could have coped with that if it wasn’t for the kid in the next cell. If that kid hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time and got dragged into this godforsaken mess.
He smacked his head off the pitted brick, wondering once again if they’d get out of here alive. Wherever ‘here’ was. Some place near the ocean, if the sporadic bites of salt water were anything to go by.
He craved a glance at the skyline. Light. Space. Or, better yet, an endless track to drive down, to escape from reality. As it was, he had too many hours to think—an overrated and highly dangerous pastime. If he wasn’t imagining the peaceful waters of stunning grey eyes regrets suffocated him as they shadowed his mind like tormented souls.
The mistakes he’d made in his life. The hearts he’d broken in his youth. The way he’d abandoned his mother and Eva. What if he never had the chance to say sorry?
Chest so tight he could scarcely breathe, he stuffed the lot to the back of his mind, where all the other emotional garbage was, and let it fester. Concentrated on what he was capable of dealing with—Mr Happy in the khaki combats, who seemed to be snarling at him.
‘There is something wrong with your tongue?’
Yeah, as a matter of fact there was. It hadn’t tasted water for two days. But he’d guess Brutus, here, just wanted his answer.
How was he feeling? As if he’d had his insides scooped out and then shoved back in. With a blunt
