Page 70 of Filthy Rich

Her eyes open, once again as sharp as ever. “I know it’s a good idea, Tam. I’m surprised you didn’t think of it.”

Rarely have I been so happy to hear that tart tone aimed in my direction. Grinning, I surrender to temptation and press a kiss to her forehead. Just this once. “Sorry I let you down. Won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t, Mary Poppins.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LUCIEN

What a colossal brain fuck.

After a tortured and sleepless night of rolling around my bed—alone—and seeing Tamsyn’s face regardless of whether my eyes were open or closed, I rolled my bleary ass out of bed at dawn. Now here I am back on the ship’s track, pounding away as though my only goal in life is to end this trip by going straight to the hospital for a double knee replacement. I swipe the sweat out of my eyes with the back of my forearm, then check my watch. Nine-point-eight miles so far. But my skin still feels too tight, and I’m still spiked out on adrenaline from our last encounter. Worse, her face is still the only thing I see, a problem that has caused me to dodge a couple of slower joggers at the last second when I register their existence too late.

I’m going to plow someone down, and it won’t be my fault. It’ll be Tamsyn’s.

Meanwhile, my head feels no clearer than it did when I started. So I keep going.

But by mile ten-point-six, my body has had enough. The combination of lack of sleep, lack of bodily fluids due to the abundance of hot sex and the additional lack of bodily fluids thanks to my heavy drinking last night after Tamsyn left—and subsequent failure to hydrate properly this morning before setting off on my mini marathon—finally cause everything inside me to rebel.

My lungs heave. My muscles burn. My eyes sting from the dripping sweat. And I miraculously don’t see her face for approximately two seconds.

I call that a win.

I slow to a walk and wipe my face with the bottom of my shirt, taking time to notice my surroundings for the first time in a while as I stretch my hamstrings. The ship has woken up around me. Early birds are already scoping out their lounge chairs on the pool deck down below. More and more walkers are joining me up her on the track. And the Venetian skyline rises like a mirage in the distance.

We had fun in Venice, didn’t we, Tamsyn?

I never imagined I’d enjoy a gondola ride, but I did. With her, I did. It was shaping up to be the perfect day.

Until it all went sideways.

I didn’t expect things to fall apart so spectacularly.

So, Tamsyn thinks she’s the fool between us, does she? I think we can all agree that I took that crown when I opened my mouth and admitted that I engineered the whole free VIP private tour package to get Mrs. Hooper out of her hair for the duration of the trip. It’s not like Tamsyn forced me into admitting it or anything. I just lost my shit and barfed it out. An unforced error of epic proportions.

Now she knows exactly how manipulative I can be when it comes to getting what I want.

Well, not exactly. I didn’t tell her about following her onto the cruise in the first place, did I? Even in my heated state, my self-protective instincts warned me that that would be a bridge too far. She can never find out about that.

I want to take it all back. But I also have no regrets. Is that a contradiction? I guess it is.

How about this: I regret that I have no regrets.

That’s more like me.

I’m the fool for going to these lengths for a young woman I barely know. I’m the fool who can’t think straight when I’m with her. Even though I swore—I swore—that I’d never let another woman wrap me around her little finger. I’m the one who suggested that we continue seeing each other back home and got brutally shot down for my efforts.

That makes me the Supreme Fool around here. No question.

But why would she tell me no? Yes, yes, I know that Mrs. Hooper is something of a mother figure to Tamsyn and that she warned her against me. That’s fair. But the time Tamsyn and I have spent together should count for something. God knows it does for me. I’m not looking for any entanglements, either, but I’m smart enough to see that we’re entangled already.

Why isn’t Tamsyn? Why do I feel this relentless drive to get her back on my side?

Don’t let her go.

It’s like she’s tattooed the words on the inside of my skull, and they’re imperative.

I don’t have a choice.

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