Page 64 of Their Dark Rose

I pop it in his face, and we both smile.

His doesn’t last.

“What’s wrong?” I ask when his expression turns grave.

There’s no way that after the day we had, both Falk and Finn will revert to hating me. Hell no.

Still, his silence freaks me out. I whisper to not be overheard, “Finn, if this is about my parents—“

He tugs on the roots of my hair, pressing my forehead to his. The violent movement startles me, but his eyes burn with something else. They’re fathomless, talking to me as he breathes heavily against my lips.

As if my closeness makes his soul lighter, the psychotic glint returns to him. “Get that out of your head. Even Falk doesn’t hate you for it.”

“Yes, he does.”

“Our parents’ deaths messed with his head.” From the corner of my eye, I see Finn tapping his temple. “I should know. I was born fucked in the head.”

He might like spanking. His former dates might’ve limped because of him. And he killed a person, so what?

Without his random smiles and weird sense of humor, I would’ve lost it forever ago.

“You’re not—“ I open my mouth to refute him.

Finn shuts me up with his mouth. A moan slides past my lips when my tongue meets his lip ring. When he cups me under the skirt of my dress, I go feral, trying to undo his jeans button in the middle of the restaurant.

“Nope.” He lets out a chuckle, still holding my head within a biting distance.

My pout is childish. He smiles harder.

“You like me the way I am, little rose. I’m definitely okay with it.” Finn’s eyes search deep for understanding. “My brothers too. Especially when we need to roughen up city clerks or contractors who fuck with us. These assholes send me, and I get the job done. Happily. So you see, being fucked up in the head is a compliment. I wear it like a motherfucking badge of honor.”

I bite down my smile. “Asshole is a harsh word.” Despite how fitting it is, I think but keep it to myself.

“Harsh and true.” A million nerve endings light up as soon as he twists my nipple between his fingers. “Anyway, Falk. He’s not a bad man. Please try and remember that. He’s just a wounded animal. He hurt more than Mason and I ever have, and it’s taken him longer to get over the pain. This has nothing to do with you or how much he cares for you. Nothing.”

“What?” Tears well up in my eyes. “Finn, you have to tell me. I can’t help him if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“No can do. This, my lady,”—Finn bites the tip of my nose—“is his story. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

“But—“

“I have something else I need to tell you.“ A cloud passes across his expression for the second time this evening.

An air of secrecy looms around him. I like how he’s immersing me in his world. In theirs. I want to be worthy of his trust.

Since his back is to the rest of the restaurant, I free myself from his touch to peek behind him. We put on a show, a loud one, yet the few people here mind their own business.

He’s safe to tell me anything.

When I look back at him, I nod, passing the message.

“There are people out there who are jealous of you.” He lowers his voice. The rugged quality of it has me shivering. “They want what you have. Badly.”

The use of the present tense doesn’t escape me. “Who knows I’m the legal owner of the company other than our lawyer and our family? The deal you made with Dad was a secret.”

My question gives him pause. I don’t miss that, either, or how he’s thinking to mince his words. Finn never minces his words.

“A high-profile family like yours?” he finally says. “Your wealth, the accident? Everyone knows about you in this town, just like they know you’ll end up running Nightingale Construction.”

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