Page 39 of The Rebel

His vehemence magnifies the three little words, making them sound like an unsavoury curse.

‘Personal experience?’

The questions pops out before I can stop it and he rears back like I’ve poked him in the eye, dislodging my hand in the process.

‘I lived in the foster system for eleven years, what do you think?’

‘I think I should know better by now not to ask such personal questions but I can’t help myself.’

He eyeballs me with blatant wariness. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m a glutton for punishment? Or maybe I’m just interested in you beyond your dick?’

If my bluntness startles him he doesn’t show it. Then again, I don’t think much would dislodge that poker face. He’s a master at it. The only time I remotely get a read on him is after we’ve had sex and even then only for an all too brief moment before he emotionally withdraws and yanks down the proverbial shutters.

He swipes a hand over his face and sinks into the chair next to me. ‘That asshole got me riled up. I shouldn’t take it out on you.’

‘Especially when I was so nice to you last night.’ I bat my eyelashes at him and he smiles as I intend.

‘You weren’t nice, you were naughty.’ He leans across to nip my ear. ‘Very naughty.’

‘That’s only because you were and I was trying to keep up.’ I drop my gaze to his lap. ‘And speaking of up…’

He groans. ‘Stop. I have to walk out of here shortly and I can’t do it sporting a boner.’

‘A massive boner,’ I add, with a grin.

‘So you’ve said.’ He shuffles in his seat. ‘You know the way to a man’s heart is to compliment the size of his cock.’

‘Hey, I’m just telling the truth.’ I hold my hands wide. ‘That’s one mighty impressive appendage you’ve got, mister.’

When he allows himself to smile, it melts away the residual tension and transforms him from handsome to gorgeous.

He hasn’t answered my personal question about being bullied but I let it drop. We’re good together when we banter like this and I’m a fool to want to delve. He’s an expert at deflecting the hard stuff, as evidenced when we played twenty questions last night.

If I learned anything in my short engagement to Casper, it’s to not push for something that isn’t there.

‘As much as I’d like to continue this scintillating conversation, I do need to work.’ I point at my laptop. ‘I’ve got a stack of online marketing sites to contact and a bunch of high-end magazines to harass for advertising space.’

I hold my hand up and start ticking off tasks on my fingers. ‘I have to give final approval to the photographer’s shots around the island. I need to ensure the new website is ready for launch by the end of the week. The podcast interviews you’ve done need to be vetted. And that’s just for starters.’

He’s staring at me like I’m some kind of magician; it’s disarming.

‘You really are determined to make me look good.’

‘Isn’t that what you’re paying me for?’ I wrinkle my nose. ‘Or paying Alf, more to the point?’

‘You need to quit and start your own business.’

I stiffen, before forcing my shoulders to relax. He makes walking away sound so easy but what he doesn’t know is my confidence is a bluff. I can wow clients with my skills but what if it’s tougher on my own? What if no one wants to take a chance on a start-up? What if I end up floundering, like I have been emotionally for the last year?

Casper really did a number on me and while I pretend I’m fine, I harbour doubts I’m not good enough in all aspects of my life. Screwing up professionally will be the last straw.

I can’t quit my job, not until my self-belief is stronger. Any time now would be great.

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Yes, it is.’ He points to my notes on the desk. ‘You know what you’re doing. You’re smart and switched on. You should do it.’

---