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‘Sure, Jake,’ she said, ignoring the forlorn thump behind her breast telling her that this felt very, very wrong. ‘That’d be great.’
* * *
It was like being confronted with his nemesis. The antithesis of everything he was.
Guts writhing in a chaotic mess, Finn leaned against the wall at the rear of the dimly lit ballroom, thinking how poignant it was to be enveloped by shadows—everything Serena feared—as he watched Jake Morgan enfold her hand and beckon her to the dance floor.
His body jerked on a visceral instinct to go over there, stop the other man from taking her in his arms. But, dammit, he could be honourable for once in his life. Step aside. Let the guy make his move. It was a thought he’d battled with all night. Would have surrendered to if it weren’t for the undesirable, inexplicable, violent primal instincts that demanded he protect her. Possess her. Take her. Make her his.
But Finn knew the fall out from such selfishness. It had chased his career, fed off the high-octane rush of success, abandoned his mother when she’d needed him, left Eva to the heart-wrenching fate of watching her die. It had cost this woman her brother. So this, he assured himself, was an argument he would win. He wanted her to be happy.
One of the country’s top bands struck out with a Rat-Pack number and when Serena offered Jake a small smile and moved into his embrace, white-hot lightning shot up his forearms, tearing through muscle. He had to shake his fists loose. What was wrong with him? He had to get a grip.
Jake was a good guy. Reliable. Honourable. Chances were he could remember the names of every woman he’d slept with.
Jake was trustworthy. What was more he hadn’t just ended a call to the Chief of the Singapore Police, who’d discovered a new lead and was about to make an arrest.
Insides shaking, he blanked his mind. Back away, Finn. Back the hell away.
She could have a relationship with this guy. Finn knew nothing about those apart from the fact that the mere word spawned ramifications that were bad for his respiratory rate.
Across the room Jake fitted his hand to Serena’s dainty waist, tugged her close, whispered in her ear, and Finn felt the first fissure crack in his sanity. His every possessive, protective instinct kicked and clawed with steel-tipped talons, tearing his insides to shreds, until he was back in that cell, fists balled, ready to protect what was his. And had it worked? No!
The dark licked around the edges of his life.
‘Finn?’
Sweat trickled down his spine, making the skin on his back itch as violence poured through his veins. He’d been a stranger to brutality before Singapore and now, like then, it coated his tongue with vile bitterness.
Pain shot up his temples.
‘Finn? You okay, my man?’
Michael Scott.
‘Gotta go,’ Finn said. ‘Something’s come up. Can you tell Serena...?’
Any response was lost as he shoved through the double doors, commanding his body to stay in control before darkness engulfed him and his demons wreaked havoc on his soul.
* * *
Serena waltzed across the marble foyer of the Country Club as if her squished feet weren’t throbbing and her legs didn’t feel as if they’d been chewed by a Doberman.
Heart weary, her only thought a hot bath and some sleep, she rode the elevator to the top floor, then slipped through the yawning metal doors—and stumbled to a halt.
A maid shuffled on her feet outside Finn’s suite, biting on a torn fingernail.
Unease coiled through Serena’s midriff. ‘Is there a problem?’
The brunette jerked upright, wide-eyed. ‘I...I’m sorry, Miss Scott, I heard a crash as I was passing so I knocked to check everything was all right.’ She gave a tremulous smile. ‘He isn’t answering. You’re with Mr St George, yes?’
Serena frowned, then realised the maid must have seen her in his suite earlier, put two and two together and came up with six.
A crash? Oh, God. What if he was hurt? Had had some kind of accident?
Chin up, she lied through her teeth. ‘Yes, we’re together. Don’t worry—I’m sure everything is fine. But, while you’re here, I’ve lost my room card. Could you switch me in, please?’
Antsy, suddenly slapped with the suspicion that he could be having sex in there—which would seriously be one humiliation too many—Serena tap-tap-tapped one diamanté toe on the floor.
As soon as the maid dipped into a curtsey and turned to walk away Serena slipped into the room. A room filled with dark shadows. She blinked rapidly to adjust her vision and when the scene crystallised, she sucked in air at the sight before her. One surely from her nightmares.
Trashed. His room was completely and utterly trashed.
