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‘I warned you, baby. That you were making the biggest mistake of your life.’
Yes, he had. ‘So be it,’ she’d said, and here she was.
The cyclone of torment in her chest picked up pace and the strain of keeping her head high wrought a deep throb in the muscle of her nape.
It was a foolish heart and a fledgling female pride that spoke. ‘Tell me something, Finn. Is every woman your baby too?’ Please say no. In truth, she wished the words right back. Didn’t want to hear she’d meant nothing to him. A silly, stupid girly part of her wanted to keep hoping she’d been different from all the others. Special in some way. As unique as he’d frequently told her.
A muscle ticked in his jaw and his brow pinched for one, two, three beats of her thundering heart. Then he hitched one broad shoulder in insouciance.
‘Naturally.’
And just like that her stomach hollowed and she felt emptier than she ever had before.
‘Naturally,’ she repeated, with all the blasé indifference she could muster as she fought the anguished throb of her body.
Lashes weighted, she allowed them to fall until he disappeared.
Serena Scott—one of many. Like all the nameless faces that had wandered through his life. Her father’s too. A woman she’d sworn she’d never become.
Anger hit her like an explosion of fire. At him, yes, but equally at herself. For opening up once again. Being susceptible, vulnerable to a man.
Why did unlocking your heart, daring to dream, have to hurt so much? Have to end in crushing heartbreak and pain? There she’d been, lying blissfully in his arms, believing every word from his lips. Sure he was coming to feel more for her, that she was enough to hold his attention. Teasing her mind’s eye with more blissful nights, more exciting wonderful days. A future.
Enough.
On a long sigh she opened her eyes. Literally and figuratively.
Thank God she’d discovered the truth before she’d fallen in love with him. It was petrifying to think how close she’d come to doing just that.
‘Serena?’
That deep voice, now perturbed, laced with concern, brought her attention back to where he stood.
Ah. Worried he’d hurt her, was he? Well, admittedly she’d love to rail and scream at him, but the little pride she had left was too precious. When she walked out of this suite it would be with her head high and dignity roiling inside her.
In fairness, he’d never pretended to be honourable with regards to women, and he’d warned her over and over. It was hardly his fault she’d strived to be a player, convinced she knew the rules, adamant that she’d come out unscathed. Instead she’d believed every expertly practised word. Misread every artful amorous touch.
How could she have been so naïve? Again! Lesson learned.
Moreover, right now the man teetered on the edge of a black abyss and she refused to be the one to push him over—she’d vacationed in hell before, and the view wasn’t pretty.
Fear. Flashbacks. Nightmares. Menace surrounding you, burrowing into your soul. It didn’t take a genius to figure out his erratic behaviour on and off the track in the last few months now either. Even his own survival was anathema to him. He wished he’d died too. Or more likely instead of Tom.
Come to think of it—dread curdled with her pique, making her stomach churn violently—it was entirely plausible that he was suffering from some kind of survivor’s guilt. She’d read about that somewhere—probably a pamphlet in some clinic. And if that were true he needed help.
Somewhat reluctant to bathe in those beautiful eyes, she met them regardless. ‘Forget about you and me. We both knew it was just sex and now it’s over.’ His throat convulsed but she was determined not to read anything into it. Bad enough that she’d imagined he flinched. ‘I’ll never be ashes in your wake, Finn. You know me better than that.’
‘Good. That’s good.’ Relief soothed his taut features and he padded out onto the balcony and gripped the iron railing—white knuckles stark over black.
Why could she still feel his pain as if it was a living, breathing entity inside her, melding with her own? As if they were bonded somehow? Heavens, it hurt.
Serena glanced at the door leading to her suite and escape beckoned like an old friend. Her feet itched to run until she was too exhausted to feel anything. ‘I should go,’ she said abruptly. ‘We both need some sleep.’ If she felt battered and bruised from riding an emotional roller coaster he had to feel just as bad.
Which was likely why she couldn’t move. Found herself ensnared in a vicious primal pull. Honestly, it was like turning her back on a wounded animal. She couldn’t do it. Despite everything, she couldn’t leave without trying one last time.
