Page 7 of Beautiful Dangerous

He smiles again, and I can’t help but smile too. “So far?” His eyebrow arches slightly, and I drop my head, fiddling with the fork by the side of my plate. “You were about to say something else, just then. Did something else happen…?” He shakes his head and takes a sip of wine. “I’m sorry, this really is none of my business.”

I look up. “No, it’s okay. It’s just – it was nothing.”

“Nothing?”

I turn my head and stare out at the grounds of his beautiful home, and I’m suddenly feeling horribly out of place. “It was just a break-up. The timing, though… that was the kicker. But…” I shrug. “Break-ups happen.”

“You’re right. They do. But that doesn’t mean they’re always easy to deal with. Was this person very special to you?”

I look at him again, my eyes meeting his, and I’m okay now. I think. I don’t know… “It’s hard to say.” I laugh quietly, one of those hollow laughs devoid of any humor, my eyes once more dropping to that fork I’m still fiddling with.

“A relationship ending, at such a difficult time, it must’ve been hard.”

“I’d rather someone didn’t stay with me out of pity, no matter how wrong the timing was. But, you’re right, it wasn’t an easy thing to deal with, on top of everything else.”

“What happened…? Oh, please, forgive me. Again.”

I glance back up, and his expression is, once more, apologetic. Genuinely so.

“And, again, it’s fine.” I smile. “He left me for his secretary.”

There’s a short pause, and then he laughs; so do I, because it’s ridiculously clichéd.

“I’m so sorry, Olivia.”

“Don’t be. I found out through a friend, before he ‘officially’ dumped me. By text. I’m well rid of him.”

“You most definitely are. He didn’t deserve you.”

Our eyes lock, and I smile again. But he can’t possibly know whether Callum deserved me or not, he doesn’tknowme. And that’s when it hits me all over again. This man is a stranger. I know nothing about him, and yet, I came here, to his home, on my own. And that’s just fucking crazy!

“Olivia? Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry. I’m fine.”

He lifts one of the steaks onto his plate and pushes the remaining one toward me. “Please. Eat.”

I lift the steak onto my own plate, leaving a pile of bloody resting juices behind on the white china, and cut into it. It’s perfectly cooked, nice and charred on the outside, rosy pink in the middle, but I still don’t have much of an appetite, which is a shame, because it smells incredible!

“How long do you have left here, in Mexico?”

I’m grateful for the change of subject. I think I’ve already shared a little too much personal information with this man, and the anxiety I felt before, it’s returning.

“Three days. I’m driving back to San Diego on Friday.”

“That’s too bad. I would’ve liked to have shown you around the city. Only a native can show you the real Mexico, don’t you think?”

He smiles at me again, and I take another deep breath before dropping my gaze to my, as yet untouched, plate of food. So I skewer a piece of steak and make a start.

“Maybe. I’ve walked around a little, I suppose, but I’ve mostly just been catching up on some reading by the pool.”

I look up, and his eyes are on me, holding my gaze. “Then you should come back. Next time, allow me to be your guide.” He slices off another piece of steak, and I start to do the same, even though my appetite is still far from putting in an appearance. “Tell me, Olivia. Do you believe in love?”

I frown, and that knot of nerves in my belly tightens further. “That’s a strange question to ask someone you’ve only just met. Someone who’s just been dumped, by text.”

His face breaks into a slow smile, and he lays his knife and fork down on the edge of his plate. “You’re not afraid to speak your mind. I like that.”

He’s right, I’m not afraid to speak my mind. And I think, in this situation, I need to show him that I’m confident, not worried, even if, now, I’m both of those things.

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