Читать книгу Becoming The Boss - Maya Blake, Zuri Day - Страница 16

SHE WAS HEARING voices, seeing things. She must be. That laugh was dead and buried but still it crawled through her veins like venom.

Gorging on air, she calmed the violent crash of her heart before she completely lost her mind and tried to snuggle into Finn again. Come on, Serena. Snuggle? Being weak and needy was not a condition she’d ever aspired to.

Honestly, this night couldn’t get any worse. Charging up here to confront him hadn’t been the brightest idea, but she’d had an entirely different kind of tongue-lashing in mind.

Forget lethal weapon—the man was a nuclear bomb. And his kiss… Holy moly. There she’d been, quite content to pretend their last lip-lock had been an apparition. Why bother to remember when it couldn’t possibly have been that shockingly good?

Except it was that shockingly good. And bad all at the same time.

Her reactions to him were ridiculously extreme. It was as if he flipped a two-way switch inside her—hate or lust. Which just made no sense. She’d kissed men she’d actually liked before and been slammed in a freezer, yet one touch from Lothario here and she burst into flames!

Sheer panic had her scrambling for perspective. Truthfully, she shouldn’t feel so disgusted with herself, so humiliated for succumbing to him. Not when the entire female race swooned at those extraordinary cerulean eyes. Expired at that sinful, sensual mouth. And that was before he backed it up with a truckload of charismatic charm.

Serena was just one of many.

Ugh. The idea that she was turning into a woman like one of her dad’s playthings made her feel physically sick.

And of course the dirty deed had to transpire with her wearing slippers, of all things—just her rotten luck. And Finn knew what they were. Of course he did. He’d probably tugged billions of the things off perfectly feminine feet.

How. Utterly. Mortifying.

At the risk of garnering attention, she whispered furiously, ‘Don’t you ever touch me again. Your hands are not welcome on me.’ She was being unfair, she knew she was, but she despised herself for that momentary lapse.

‘Noted,’ he bit out, his jaw tight enough to crack, and she fancied his broad frame seethed with self-loathing.

Clearly she was losing it.

Serena edged around his broad frame, determined not to notice how he filled out his sinfully suave tuxedo to perfection. ‘I have to go. I’ll see you in the morning.’

She didn’t slow her pace until she was free of the oppressive glitz and glamour, her feet step-step-stepping down the stone slabs of the wide front entrance.

‘I’ll walk you down to the harbour.’

Finn fell into place beside her, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, and as if he sensed she was spooked he ground out, ‘No arguments.’

It was the second time he’d brandished that arrogant, masculine tone like a swordsman in protective stance and it did something strange to her insides. Made her go all warm and gooey. Which naturally made her every self-defence instinct kick into gear. She wanted to tell him to get lost—preferably on Mars. But something stopped her.

It was that frigid, ominous laughter. Playing in her mind. An endless loop of pain and vulnerability. Vehement enough for her to say, ‘Okay…’ because in truth she felt infinitely safer with him beside her.

Down the cobbled streets they went, the only sound the clickety-clack of his highly polished shoes and the sensual whispers of couples strolling by hand in hand.

As always, the sight made her heart ache. Ache for something she’d never have. Relationship material she was not.

Suddenly cold, she wrapped her arms across her chest, and by the time the tang of seawater filled her lungs and the harbour was a glittering stretch before them she was waging an internal war against asking him to stay.

‘Thanks for walking with me. I’ll be fine from here.’

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay? Is there anything I can do? Anything you want, Serena?’

Cruel—she was being cruel. The last few months had turned her into a horrible, horrible person but she couldn’t curb the truth.

‘The only thing I want right now is Tom. He was more than my brother—he was my friend.’ And she didn’t want to be alone.

But you are alone, Serena, and you always will be. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

‘I know,’ he said, his voice deep and low, tainted with sombre darkness. ‘Believe me, I know.’

It was a voice she’d never heard before. One that made her stop. Pause. Wonder at the torment engulfing his beautiful blue eyes.

‘I would do anything to turn back the clock. Anything to change the words I said. If only I’d just told him no when he asked to come out with me. Countless times I’ve wished for just that.’

As if he’d hit her with a curveball, she swayed on her feet.

The way he’d phrased it, so simply, had brought it all down to choices. Tom’s choice in asking to follow his hero. Finn’s choice in allowing him to.

Strange to think how the twists of fate intertwined with free will.

Every day they lived a voyage of discovery, moved through life based on choices like forks in the road. They peered down all the options, considered, weighed the risks, finally made a choice—some good, some bad. Some affecting no one but themselves. The worst affecting those they loved. But all of them defining. Forging who they were.

She’d made hundreds of choices in her lifetime and had one major regret. A choice that had affected her dad’s life, Tom’s life too, until the day he’d died. One made when she’d been naïve about her place in the world, no more than a girl, but a disastrous choice even so.

‘I would do anything to turn back the clock.’

Serena would too.

Instead she lived with the guilt, struggled with it, controlled it. Recognised it when she saw it in others. This time she saw it in Finn—such depth of emotion—her first glimpse in…forever.

First? No. She’d been struck with shards of his shattering façade since last night.

Glimpse? No. He looked devastated. Seething with a darkness she truly believed was pain.

‘Finn?’ Who was this man? Thawing the ice and hate she’d packed in her chest. ‘Oh, Finn, you really liked him, didn’t you?’ He was grieving too.

Punching his fists deep into his trouser pockets, he cast his gaze over the moonlit ripple of the ocean. ‘He was a good kid.’

Knowing this was her chance, she begged him, ‘Tell me what happened that night. Your version. Please. My dad just keeps saying there was a storm and he fell overboard during the night, but when I checked there were no weather warnings, no reports.’

His brow etched in torment, he closed his eyes momentarily. ‘It was…’ His throat convulsed. ‘Unexpected. There is nothing more to tell.’

His tone was as raw as an open wound and she ached for him, but— ‘Why do I think there is?’

‘Because you need to let go.’ He shoved frustrated hands through his thick blond hair. ‘Otherwise you’ll find no peace, Serena. I promise you.’

A cool rush of sea air washed over her in a great wave and she crossed her arms over her chest, then curled her fingers around her upper arms and rubbed at the sudden prickle of gooseflesh.

‘Peace? I don’t know what that feels like. I never have.’

Finn stilled, watching her, predator-like. Then anger crept across his face, dark and deadly, and her pulse surged erratically at her wrist.

‘Have you been hurt? In the past?’ he asked, almost savagely.

It was as if his genetic make-up had been irrevocably altered and she could feel the ferocious fury of an animal growling through him. Not to harm—no, no. To protect.

She shouldn’t like that. She really shouldn’t.

‘Serena?’

‘I… Well…’ She bit her top lip to stem the spill of her secrets.

Ridiculous idea. It had to be the way he visibly swelled beneath his suave attire as if to shield her. It made her heart soften and she couldn’t afford that. Just the thought rebooted her self-preservation instincts and she dodged.

‘To be honest, Finn, I’m not one for dwelling on the past.’ She didn’t want to remember being naïve and weak and broken. Didn’t want Finn to suspect she was any of those things. She refused to be vulnerable to him. To any man ever again.

More importantly, she was over it. She’d made a life for herself. A good life. True, being initiated into the dark realms the world had to offer at fourteen years old was not conducive to relationships and all the messy complexities that came with them.

It was hard to trust, to let go. And, while she’d vowed her past wouldn’t define her, or cripple her life with fear, any attempts she’d made at intimacy had been a dishearteningly dismal experience. She’d chosen a wonderfully sweet safe guy but she’d felt distanced somehow. Detached. Compounded by her blatant lack of femininity, no doubt. But she had her work, which she loved, and her team kept her from touching the very depths of loneliness. And if the tormented shadows still haunted her once in a while she fought them with all her might.

Feeling that infusion of bravado, she lifted her chin. ‘Anyway, do I look like the kind of woman someone could easily mess with?’ She hoped not. She’d spent years building her defences after all.

Finn slowly shook his head and his fierce scowl was tempered into a decadent curve of his lips as he murmured what sounded like, ‘That’s my girl.’

Their eyes caught…held…and Serena would have sworn she actually felt the odd dynamic of their relationship take a profound twist.

Before she knew it more words flooded over her tongue—a chaotic, unravelling rush she couldn’t seem to stop.

‘When I look at you I want to blame you, hate you.’ And hadn’t it been easier to blame Finn instead of just accepting it as a tragic accident from which no justice could be reaped? ‘But on the back of those thoughts comes the guilt, the self-censure, because he asked me to go out with him that night and I wouldn’t.’

She’d been horribly selfish, hating the social scene, knowing she didn’t fit in, so she’d told him to go, to have fun.

‘If I’d gone out with him he wouldn’t have asked you.’ Misery poured from her heart. ‘I was such a coward.’ Oh, God, could it have been her fault?

Finn surged forward, raised his arm and brushed a lock of hair from her brow so tenderly her heart throbbed.

‘You can’t take responsibility for someone else’s actions, baby. He was old enough to make his own decisions.’

‘Well, then I should’ve persuaded him to take professional swimming lessons—’ Her voice cracked. ‘Something. Anything.’

‘Again, you can’t make people do what they don’t want to. You think he’d honestly want you to blame yourself like this?’

‘No,’ she whispered. Tom would go crazy if he saw her right now.

Crazy? She gave a little huff. If Tom knew she was being cruel to Finn he would go berserk. Finn had been his hero. He’d talked about him constantly. And hadn’t that driven her insane too? Ensuring he was never far from her mind. Taunting her. Creating more anger. Powering more hate. But that wasn’t Finn’s fault. It was hers. Because she’d never understood her unruly all-consuming reactions to such a wild player. He was anything but safe.

‘How did it happen?’ she asked, suddenly weary. ‘Were you there? All I want to know is that he didn’t suffer.’

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he took a large step back, filching her heat. ‘I was…asleep. It was the middle of the night.’

A black blend of torment and bone-wrenching guilt stole the colour from his beautiful face and from nowhere she wanted to throw her arms around him. He was hurting so badly. Like a wounded animal. It was like being tossed back in time, staring at her own reflection. She couldn’t bear it.

Trembling, she reached for his hand, the despair and loneliness she’d suffered in the last months calling to her—reaching out for his, to share it. To comfort and be comforted. A craving she’d stifled for months.

All the torment. The guilt suffocating her. Suffocating him. When she’d thought he didn’t care she’d wanted to punish him endlessly. Yet he’d buried it just as she had. And where was it getting them? Fate had dealt them a cruel card and unless they moved on all she could see lining the road ahead was endless misery.

Let it go…

Her fingers met his skin and as if she’d zapped him with three thousand volts he jolted backwards.

‘I’ve already warned you once tonight, Serena,’ he said roughly. ‘You touch me right now and I’ll lose it. Won’t be able to stop myself from wanting more.’

The memory of him crouched before her, his hot gaze locked on her lower abdomen, his warm breath teasing over her flesh, sprang up in her mind’s eye and heat drenched her body like a deluge of tropical rain.

‘I…I don’t understand you. Are you still trying to distract me or something? Because you’re wasting your time, Finn, I’m not going anywhere.’

He rubbed at his temple as if she was giving him a migraine. ‘I’m beginning to realise that.’

‘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 spoon.

‘Great. Never felt better. Your hospitality is second to none.’

The you’ll-pay-for-that smirk should have made him regret his smart mouth, but he had to keep their focus on him. Always on him.

‘I am pleased to hear it.’ The guard paused outside the kid’s cell and Finn felt the familiar toxic churn of foreboding right in the pit of his empty stomach. ‘And your friend?’

Already halfway up from his cosy spot on the floor, Finn almost lost his precarious stance. ‘He’s sick. Can’t even walk. So leave him alone.’ Then he smoothed the edge off his harsh tone and kicked up his lips, offering the legendary St George smile as he straightened to his full height. ‘It’s me you want, anyway. Isn’t that right?’

Another smirk. Another churn of unease and sickening revolt in his stomach.

‘Boring when they don’t fight back.’

‘There you go, then. Let me out of here.’ He jerked his chin towards the kid. ‘The view is depressing.’ Or it would be for the kid pretty soon.

‘Finn?’ Tom croaked. ‘Let me—’

‘Shut up, kid.’ Every muscle in his body protested as he coerced his legs forward as if two of his ribs weren’t cracked and his shoulder wasn’t dislocated. Piece of cake. ‘I’m feeling cooped up in here.’ His door swung wide. ‘Give him some water, would you?’

The guard grinned, flashing a less than stellar set of teeth, eyes brimming with calculation. As if he knew something Finn didn’t. As if the last four days had been foreplay to the main event.

Darkness seeped through the cracks in his mind and threatened to rise like some ugly menacing storm. ‘You leave the kid alone—you hear me? Or no money.’

The laugh that spilled from those blood-red lips made his guts wrench tighter.

‘Boss says the only thing I leave alone is your pretty face,’ the guard said, and slapped said face with enough force to sting. ‘Get moving.’

‘Speaking of my generous host, I want to talk to him again.’

‘Your wish is my command.’

Somehow he doubted that. Nevertheless, ten minutes later a big palm pushed on his shoulder—the dislocated one, thank you very much—and he fought the wince as he was slammed down into a black plastic chair in the corner of a room that looked like an interrogation hotspot out of a gritty cop show. But, nope, this was no TV set. Proof of which sat in the chair opposite, with a rickety steel-framed table separating them.

Face-to-face with his captor, it wasn’t in Finn’s nature to beat around the proverbial bush, so he kicked off today’s festivities.

‘Let’s barter,’ he managed to say through a throat that felt serrated with sticks. ‘I’ll trade you another five million if you let him go. Now.’

Eyes as black as his soul and sunk into a battered, rock-hewn face stared back at him. ‘That’s quite an offer, Mr St George. But I was thinking of a different kind of bartering altogether.’

‘I’m getting tired of these games. What exactly is it you want?’

‘Right now I want you to make a choice, racer-boy. The first of many.’

Behind him, the iron door ground open with a chilling squeal and a frigid bite swept through the room—so cold his bones turned to ice. The kid was behind him. He knew it.

‘Forget choices. Make it another ten mill and let. Him. Go.’

‘You don’t like him being touched, do you, pretty boy?’ he said silkily—in striking contrast to the sharp crack of knuckles that caromed around the room. ‘So shall I play with him? Or will you?’

Finn’s breath sawed in and out of his lungs. ‘Twenty. That will be sixty million, transferred from my Swiss bank account within the hour. You can do what the hell you like with me. Deal?’