Page 51 of Filthy Rich

I searched for her. I still search for her. Not with detectives these days, but with my own eyes. Scanning crowds. Part of me thinks she’s still out there. Maybe I always will.

But I don’t need these reminders from my brother. And I don’t want this part of my life to ever touch what I have with Tamsyn.

“It’s not just the search. You changed when you met Ravenna. It’s like you became obsessed?—”

I recoil, the O-word hitting me like sandpaper to a sunburned chest.

“We’re done,” I say, hanging up and cursing him—but cursing myself more, because I know he’s right.

That’s when my equilibrium completely deserts me. I prop my elbows on the railing, drop my head and rake my hands through my hair, working hard to get a grip. But my brother’s inopportune reappearance, the mention of Ravenna and sudden frustration have all done a number on me. A big one. I don’t like the reminders of those other parts of my life. Not here. Not when I’m relaxing for once and I’ve got a nice little bubble going. I don’t need any contaminants. Not now.

“Hey,” comes Tamsyn’s worried voice at my side, adding to my turmoil. Her gentle hand on my arm doesn’t help either. “Everything okay?”

I straighten and jerk away from her. “Yep.”

Her eyes widen, telling me I’ve become a stranger to her again. “What’s wrong?”

I hoped to avoid or at least prolong the moment when I saw that exact look of dawning pity and/or horror on her face, but no such luck. That moment when she sees the darkness of the real me. Is it happening again? That obsession over a woman?

Am I losing myself again?

“I’m fine.” My voice sounds as though it’s been fed through a cheese grater. Which is about how I feel, come to think of it. “And if you were smart, you’d forget me and go play with someone your own age, Ms. Scott. Consider yourself warned.”

She winces, and I feel her hurt inside my chest even before that wounded expression takes over her face.

Still, she doesn’t back down.

“What’s wrong with you, Lucien? I can see that something’s happened. Tell me.”

She’s too much, this one. She really is. Steady. Resolute. As though she can somehow help me when it should be obvious to all concerned that I will hurt her when it’s all said and done. Much as I want her to stick around and keep brightening my bleak existence, I can’t stand the idea of damaging her pure heart.

“I’m in a mood. I can be a moody SOB.” I shrug. “I’m going to skip today, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine.” She hikes up her chin and squares her shoulders. And she’s good. I’ll give her that. So good that I feel a moment’s panic that it’s just that easy to get rid of her. “You want to push me away? I’ll go see if Brett is available. I’m sure he’d love to go to the beach with me.”

Brett? The college bro who had the temerity to talk to her that day by the pool?

I’m still reeling as she moves past me and walks off, trailing her scent of lily of the valley that I bought for her. I should let her go. Simple, right? I’m bad for her, and she deserves better than me. I wouldn’t blame her if she iced me forever. But I can no more let her go than I can start breathing water instead of air.

In this entire world full of people and things, she’s what I want.

That being the case, her movement galvanizes me.

“What did you say?” I say, catching her by the arm before she can take another step.

“You heard me.”

I tighten my grip and cock my head to see her better. “You think it’s funny to play with me?”

“Why not?” She presses her lips together and tries to blink back a wayward tear. It doesn’t work. “You think it’s okay to play games with me when we only have a few days left together?”

The sight of that crystalline tear sliding down her cheek is more than I can bear. I’d sooner leap in front of the ship’s propellers when it leaves this dock than I would watch another one fall.

“I’m sorry.” Sudden urgency takes over. I grab handfuls of her hair on either side and lean in to kiss her wet eyes… Her cheeks… Her sweet, sweet mouth. And she kisses me back, to my immense relief and gratitude. “I didn’t mean all that.”

“Then why did you say it?” she says, pulling back and leveling those all-seeing eyes on me as she waits for an answer I’m not prepared to give.

“I don’t know,” I say impatiently. “Maybe because I get dark sometimes. Maybe I’m a monster.”

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