He frowned, thinking about that: right behind him. They’d first met while sharing classes at an international school outside Singapore. Initially, they’d been too competitive to like each other. Paolo was used to outpacing other students without even trying, but suddenly every quiz or spelling bee or sport match was a contest with the American boy. Ryan had been determined to overtake him in every arena.
In later years, Paolo would learn that the Bradley family motto was “Good, better, best. Never let it rest. Do your good better. Do your better best.” And if you didn’t, you caught hell when you got home.
Paolo had his own motto: Lead. You couldn’t do that from second position.
The turning point had been a cross-country race at semester’s end. They were twelve and well out in front of the rest of the pack despite the rain and mud and steep climb through slippery jungle. Paolo had just splashed through a swollen creek, Ryan was hot on his heels, when a sound—
To this day Paolo didn’t know what self-preservation instinct had made him turn and grab his competitor and drag him forward. A sound, something in the way the muddy water slid fast under his feet...primal awareness? Whatever it was, it saved Ryan from a slough of earth that scarred the hillside with a deep gouge. They had both stared at the gaping gorge where they’d both had their feet seconds before.
“We have to stop the others,” Paolo had said.
Ryan ran ahead to the finish line in record time. Paolo waved the next boy off and sent him back to stop the other runners. Later, they were touted as heroes—something that seemed to become an ingrained piece of Ryan’s makeup. He had found a way to earn his father’s approval. He had embraced putting his life on the line for others with future acts of derring-do.
That identity had followed Ryan into his career in the military. He’d been determined to save the world. He’d mocked Paolo mercilessly for being destined to take up banking of all professions, rather than high-octane black ops. Paolo had quelled his envy of Ryan’s action-packed life by doubling down in his studies, covering the bases for his eventual career, but pursuing a dream at the same time. A dream he’d had to abandon into a sensitive scar that Ryan never failed to poke.
Through all of that, somehow both men had overlooked the true danger in what Ryan did.
Paolo had had to face it when Lauren had reached out to him, however. Even though, deep inside, he’d sensed he wouldn’t hear good news, he’d made calls. He knew people, influential people. He’d quickly learned what was being smothered by a government trying to salvage a mission gone terribly wrong.
Paolo had been struck by survivor’s guilt. Was it really duty that had led him to take up the family profession? Good sense? Or plain old cowardice? Why was it Ryan’s responsibility to take the narrow chances in the name of peace and freedom, and not his?
If he had been with his friend, could he have saved him?
Somehow he’d found himself on a plane, the knowledge of Ryan’s death a secret that ate like a cancer inside him. He’d had to tell Lauren. Had to see her. He hadn’t questioned that compulsion, had just followed it. Some things couldn’t be said over an electronic connection, he supposed.#p#????#e#
Ryan’s family had been there when he’d told her. It couldn’t be avoided. They’d had a right to know and they were as devastated as expected. The Bradley mansion had become the pit of hell and Paolo hadn’t been able to bear it, not when his own emotions were hanging by a thread. He’d needed to leave that place and there was Lauren, looking so alone, her hands like icicles when he picked them up, stiff and frozen. He hadn’t examined his decision to take her with him. He hadn’t even given her a choice; he’d just pulled her away.
Alone with her in his suite, he’d been able to let down his guard. It hadn’t been long before they’d been crying in each other’s arms, eventually moving to the bed out of physical and emotional exhaustion. He had spooned her warmth into the hollow of his body as comfort for both of them. That was all it had been intended to be.
Then he’d woken more aroused than he’d ever been in his life, his skin tight and hot, his need to thrust into her primeval. He wished he could say he had put up a fight, but it had been the most pathetic of his life. He’d pressed her away from kissing his throat, but all she’d had to say was Paolo.
His name. She’d known it was him. That was all that had been important in that darkened room. His heart had pounded hard, trying to fill the palm stroking his bare chest. Having anything between them at that point had become intolerable.