Page 120 of 2 Books in One Bundle

“In here.”

A muffled voice sounded from inside the carousel hall. She glanced around, taking some comfort in the presence of the security guards nearby, as she walked through the archway.

Her breath hitched as she drew closer to the carousel. She’d never gotten this close, always holding out for...something. Just another thing she had denied herself.

A chestnut-colored horse caught her eye. A bright orange saddle trimmed in reds and blues rested on its back. Its head was thrown back, the black mane shaped into wild spirals as if it were blowing in some imaginary breeze. She moved closer and laid a hand on the muzzle.

Tonight, she decided as she smiled. Tonight she would ride.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The tones of his voice, deep and smoky, rolled over her. She waited one moment, then two. Maybe she had just imagined it, manipulated someone else’s voice in her head to sound like his.

Then she saw his reflection in the shiny wood that made up the horse’s neck.

Slowly, she turned. He stood just a couple feet behind her, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his handsome face smooth and serene.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“But where is...” Her mind fumbled, then latched on to a distant memory as they’d verbally sparred in his office. Her eyes narrowed. “EdwardCharlesDamon Bradford.”

One corner of his mouth curved up as mischief glinted in his eyes. “I took a risk using Charles, but I didn’t think you would remember.”

“You could have called. Or texted.” She glanced out the arch at the barricades and security guards. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble just to get me to talk to you.”

His face sobered as his gaze sharpened. “The last time I saw you, you told me you didn’t love me and to go away.”

Heat flooded her face. She wanted to look down, away, anywhere but at the pain in his green eyes. But she didn’t. She’d caused that pain, and she needed to take responsibility. “I did exactly what you accused me of. I used you as a punching bag that day. I’m sorry, Damon.”

“I deserved it. And,” he said as he took a slow but deliberate step closer, “I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“The heliport. The way I let things end. Not opening up to you.” His eyes rested on her face with sorrowful intensity. “Not letting you in because of my own pride and fear.”

Her throat tightened as she remembered the coolness in his eyes, the efficiency of his handshake just hours after he’d seduced her with slow, drugging kisses.

“I set the terms of our arrangement, Damon. Yes, it hurt,” she admitted, “but it was over. I knew not to expect more. If I did, that was on me.”

“Don’t do that,” he whispered as he reached out and grabbed the cello case handle. His fingers brushed hers. The fleeting contact sizzled across her skin, and her lips parted on a sharp inhale. She let him take the case from her, set it down behind him.

When he took her hands in his, she swallowed hard.

“Damon...”

“Five minutes, Evolet. Just five minutes to say what I need to. After that, if you still want me to go, I will.”

She let him lead her to a chariot painted blue and trimmed in gold. He sat next to her and continued to hold her hands in his, his fingers stroking gently over her knuckles.

“I loved my parents.”

He paused, his focus riveted on their hands. She waited, giving him time.

“It was easier for so long to just not talk about my parents. If I didn’t talk about them, it wouldn’t hurt. Sometimes I could even pretend they were just away on an extended vacation.

“I’m starting to realize how much of a disservice I’m doing to their memories, to what they did for me. There were sad ones, but there were good ones. So many good ones I’d just...banished.” His voice faded as he turned to look at her. “It hurts to remember. But I think I’d rather hurt and remember than keep living without thinking of them from time to time.” He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, hands clenched together. “My mom would make me breakfast every morning before she went to the hospital. She worked as a nurse delivering babies. Most days were happy, but sometimes she would come home sad. She felt every joy, every loss like it was her own, and her patients loved her for it. Even after Bradford Global grew, she kept her job.”

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