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‘So you have a sister?’ she asked quietly, almost longingly, and his chest cramped with guilt. It didn’t seem fair, somehow, that he still had Eva and Serena had no one.
‘Yes, I do. Eva.’
Eva—who had suffered greatly from the demise of Libby St George. And what had he done? Turned his back on her, on both of them, and walked away to chase his dreams, his big break. Knowing what they’d go through because he’d seen it all before. He’d left Eva to cope, to watch their beautiful mother slowly fade away.
Finn had let them down. Badly. And, what was worse, he hadn’t been the only one. His father, the great Nicky St George, eighties pop-star legend, had left to find solace in many a warm bed. Looking back, Finn still found it hard to believe he’d watched a good man—his childhood hero—break so irrevocably under the weight of heartache. And, while he felt bitterly angry towards his father to this day, he could hardly hate the man when he’d felt the same pain. When he’d let them down too.
Yet still his baby sister loved him. She was all goodness while he was inherently selfish.
Eva. His mind raced around its mental track. Eva would be perfect for Serena. A great introduction to the best kind of women...
Finn stomped on the brakes of his runaway thoughts.
It would be dangerous to take Serena to Eva. Eva might get the wrong idea. Serena might get the wrong idea. He might get the wrong idea. He was supposed to be getting rid of her, not fixing her and finding ways to keep her around! What was wrong with him?
‘Through here.’ He beckoned her towards another door. One he pushed wide and held as she warily followed him into one of the small lounges where the private games of the high-flyers were often held.
‘Why do I half expect the Monte Carlo Symphony Orchestra to strike up any second?’
‘It’s the grandeur of the place. It’s pretty spectacular.’ Oppressive at times, but spectacular nonetheless.
‘If you like that kind of thing,’ she muttered, with a slick manoeuvre that brought her back flush against another wall.
Musing on why she’d cornered herself again, Finn lounged against the arm of an emerald antique sofa a few feet away and faced her. ‘So, what do you fancy for dinner?’
She sniffed, the action wrinkling her little nose. ‘I’d rather starve.’
‘You’ve changed your tune pretty quick. Is it a habit of yours? It was only this afternoon you said, “I wouldn’t be seen dead” in reference to this very establishment. What changed your mind?’
Pouting those luscious lips, she weighed him up from top to toe, her gaze burning holes in his ten-thousand-pound tux. He felt all but cauterised.
‘First off, why don’t you tell me why you’re avoiding me?’
Because I can’t tell you what you want to hear.
‘Because every time I look at you I want to make love to that beautiful mouth of yours. It’s addictive.’ She was like a drug—the prime source of some very intense highs. ‘But you don’t want that, do you, Seraphina?’ he asked, rich and smooth, with a sinful tone he couldn’t quell even if he tried.
Up came her stubborn chin. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Then I would advise you to stay away. Because sooner or later we’ll have another repeat of last night.’
It was only a matter of time. Whether she wanted to believe it or not.
From the way her pulse throbbed wildly at the base of her throat and a soft flush feathered her skin he knew she was thinking about their kiss. Was she still tasting him as he could her?
‘I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice. I know a car crash when I see one,’ she said tartly. Then gave herself away by licking her raspberry pout.
She could taste him, all right. He’d also bet she wanted more and loathed herself for it.
Cursing inwardly, he allowed himself the luxury of drinking her in before he made his excuses and left.
Covered in a thin black trench coat, with a high, stiff collar and a straight no-nonsense hem just above the knee, she reminded him of a prissy professor. Though her perfectly sexy knees and her shapely bare calves smothered in luscious ivory skin ruined the imagery. As for her feet...
Finn clenched his jaw and breathed past the grin begging to be let loose.
Oh, man, did he want to see under that coat. More than his next breath.
‘Do you like to gamble, Miss Scott? Try your chances with Lady Luck?’
‘Not particularly. I’m not so sure I believe in luck.’
Her admission was a prelude to a charge in the air as secrets and lies swirled around them in an electrical storm.
‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ he drawled. Risky, Finn—and didn’t that just rouse his desire? He chose his next words very, very carefully. ‘If you do something for me I may grant you one wish. As long as it’s in my power to give.’
