‘The woman who was kind to me,’ I correct. The woman who doesn’t deserve to be brought into my fucked-up world. Yet, she’s here anyway. Here within reach, a fact that should not bring any comfort.
Rhett’s expression darkens. I know he still blames himself for what happened that night. But this is no one’s fault but my own. It was midnight. I couldn’t sleep so I had gone out for a ride. Is it any wonder I found myself outside of her house? She was, after all, the reason we were in the city.
Investigation only, I insisted. No contact to be made.
An obvious mission failure.
‘The one who picked me up off the street after I fell from my bike,’ I add, rubbing a little salt into his professional wound. A low blow, but as I said, we both fight dirty.
‘I told you I should’ve gone with you,’ he replies obstinately, turning to place the jar back on the shelf. ‘If you’d woken me, none of this would’ve happened.’
And if I’d woken him, I wouldn’t have found her. Like an angel brought to earth, she saved me that night. She didn’t save me from the claws of death but rather my faith in humanity.
‘As for falling off your bike, I still don’t buy it. This has been a theme of Everett’s since I’d called him while Rose was sleeping—called him so I could leave without waking her.
Not cowardice. I sought to protect her.
‘We’ve been through this so many times already.’ I try not to let my irritation seep into my tone. ‘It was an accident.’
‘An accident during the middle of the night on an abandoned street? You’ve been riding since you were old enough to get a license—before you were legally of age—and not one accident. Do you know how rare that is? An accident at your age and experience is more likely to be the kind that’s life changing.’
Life changing is right. I’ve thought near constantly of Rose since I left her house that night. Thought of her kind heart and her consideration, of her soft lips and lush curves. I’ve remembered that night more times than can be regarded as healthy.
As the aphorism goes, you should be careful what you wish for.
‘And when I say change your life, I don’t mean for better.’
The censure in Rhett’s tone pulls me back to the present. I make my way across the room to him, laying a hand on his shoulder as I bring my gaze level with his.
‘There really is no other answer.’ I woke on the side of the road, my head feeling as though it had been split with an axe, and the bike nowhere to be seen. ‘I skidded or fell or had a minor accident, or else I was robbed.’
‘Remy, a Ducati Panigale—a bike worth eighty thousand—would’ve stood out like tits on a bull. It’s not the kind of machine that can be sold without notice, not without it coming to the notice of the authorities.’
‘Maybe it’s in a shed somewhere. Maybe it was taken out of the state. What does it matter?’
‘It matters because it’s my job to make sure these things don’t happen, and I wasn’t there.’
‘My fault, not yours. Stop beating yourself up about it.’
‘It’s not me I want to beat up,’ he replies meaningfully, while also fighting a smile.
‘I think the bike did a good enough job for you.’ I run my finger over the small scar bisecting my eyebrow. It was either the bike, the road, the curb, or possibly something purple.
Purple? Why does that suddenly seem probable?
‘I could’ve wrung your neck myself for putting yourself at such fucking risk.’
‘Ah, you could try, I suppose.’ My answer is flippant, though I tighten my hand on his shoulder, an action meant to reassure rather than exacerbate.
‘There’s just something not right about the whole deal.’ His brows draw together over brooding dark eyes.
‘You’re right. But the thing that isn’t right is that there is a woman in this building that shouldn’t be.’
‘Or there’s a woman in this building who you shouldn’t have been in.’
Immediately, my temper flares.
‘Sortez votre tête de vos fesses et écoutez-moi!’
‘Touchy,’ he drawls, his hand pushing mine from his shoulder. ‘I think you’ll find it’s not me who has his head up his arse, especially if you don’t remember how getting her here was all your plan.’
‘This is not a matter to joke about!’
‘Apologies. Am I interrupting?’
Both our heads turn to the voice at the other side of the room.
‘Ben. Come in.’ I direct him with a wave of my hand, ignoring his obsequious tone. ‘Everett and I were just discussing our training plans for tonight.’ Ben, or Benoît as he prefers, is my cousin as well as a member of the executive team for Wolf Industries, the company my father founded. The company that passed unexpectedly into my hands on his death. Damn the old bastard and his twisting, underhanded ways.