by Caro LaFever
Her gaze drifted from their joined hands to his face. “I don’t trust you.”
That hit, like a punch. And he realized this was more than guilt. More than paying for his sins. There was something about this woman that had sunk into him and wrapped around his heart. He didn’t want to think that was true, but it was.
“I’m giving you advice,” he said, his voice gruff. “It’s up to you how you want to use it.”
She kept fiddling with the silverware with her other hand and a new frown furrowed her brows. Riq felt as if he stood on a slim line, ready to fall either way, depending on what she decided in the next moment. On one side, crushed disappointment. On the other, a freeing grace and another chance.
“All right.” Glancing up from her empty plate, she met his gaze with a wary one of her own. “I’ll be down in a half hour.”
“I’ll be here.” He pretended nonchalance, though his heart beat like a drum in his chest. “Waiting.”
A tiny huff was her response, as she slid off her chair and tightened the robe’s ties so it wrapped completely around her body. “I’m going to use all your hot water.”
“Be my guest.”
That’s what he should have said the moment she’d landed on his island. He might be a slow learner, but at least he’d learned. For a moment, a flicker of amazement sparked in her eyes. Then, she turned and walked out of the kitchen without another word. His loyal companion woofed and scuttled behind her.
Riq let him go. If Jiggs could soften her mood further, he’d count that as a win.
By the time he’d cleaned the dishes and prepared a few more lures he planned on using later this evening, she still hadn’t appeared. Cocking his head, he listened, not hearing a peep of a sound. Anxiety, something he rarely experienced, flowed into him. He didn’t want to antagonize her by invading her bedroom, but he had to know she was okay.
Before he could march up the stairs, however, she appeared at the top.
She was dressed in an odd combination of a long-sleeved cotton shirt and black woolen socks. Again, the little girl image came to him. A little girl dressed up in her momma’s dress and daddy’s socks, trying to look like an adult. Except those alert eyes and jutting jaw, and long length of leg, told him he had a full-grown woman on his hands.
One who hadn’t forgiven him. Not in the least.
One for whom he still lusted, without any sign of relief.
“Ready?” He pitched his voice low and calm, even as an intense excitement rolled in his veins.
She represented a challenge.
A challenge he hadn’t experienced since the moment he’d made his last jump out of a Cobra helicopter, and ruined his knee and his career.
“I suppose.” She sashayed down the stairs like she was a…
Princesa.
A grin crept onto his face, even though he figured it might piss her off.
It did.
She threw him a scowl.
Before he lost the battle way in advance of the war, he turned and waved at the great room to the left. “Should we start in here?”
Giving him a pointed glare, she swung her focus to the room.
Riq wondered what she saw. Did she see the attention to detail he’d instructed the architect to take? The way the cream and sand stones of the fireplace harmonized with the quiet serenity of the bleached tree trunks winding overhead? Did she notice how the furniture was chosen for comfort? The long, white leather sofa was surrounded by several armchairs and wide, low tables filled with knickknacks from the sea he’d found. Seashells and driftwood matched with some fat candles he lit at night when he wanted to stare at the ocean and think. He hadn’t skimped on the cost of anything about this home in the sky, but he also hadn’t cared about impressing any guests he might invite to the island.
Not that he’d invited many.
Any.
And he knew why now. Because as he watched Risa inspect this home of his, his skin itched with sudden anxiety. Did she see the inner him he concealed? Did she notice the soft touches, the gentle accents, the tenderness expressed in the colors? Those quiet parts of him he kept well-hidden?
“It’s nice,” she offered, her voice as quiet and calm as the surroundings.
He had to give her credit. She wasn’t giving him much to work with, and he deserved to work hard to get back in her good graces.
“There’s a corridor over here.” Walking toward the black-and-glass terrace doors, he swung them open. “I don’t think you’ve been on this side.”
The hallway wasn’t straight like most. Instead, it had been designed to follow the curve of one giant tree limb. The whitewashed walls clung to the wood, weaving around and over it in a pattern of white on tan. Scattered deck chairs and lounges looked out on the jungle, the glass windows keeping the cool air in, yet letting the sunlight splash its golden glow on the white tile.
It struck him that the room was much like her. Gold and tan. White and cream. A sinuous womanly room of contours and circles, arches and bends.
She merely hummed her approval. Again, not giving him much of anything.
The testing of him shivered through him, driving him forward. “Let’s go to the next level.”
His house wasn’t designed in the traditional storied way. Instead, his architect had placed living areas in between niches of trees limbs. Spacious rooms sprawled across large spaces between trunks while his office and storage were found in compact sections. All of it was tied together by cascading stairs, and even two elevators located on the outer ring of the house.
He pulled her through room after room.
The five bedrooms with decks reaching into nature. The two patios, one with a hot tub, the other sporting a circular pit of cushions surrounding a gas fireplace. The home theatre, with his extensive stash of movies and old reels of baseball games. The game room with its deluxe dart board, vintage Skee-Ball, and three pinball machines he’d rescued from an old arcade he’d played in as a kid.
“No library?” She arched a royal brow. “No gym?”
Riq stopped in his tracks. He didn’t want to confide to her why those typical rooms in any luxury house weren’t included in his. But he owed her, and perhaps she’d soften if he confessed some of his defects. “I don’t do a lot of reading.”
“No?” Her stance didn’t soften, except something flirted in her eyes that gave him hope.
“No.” He tucked in his hands in his pockets. “I’m dyslexic.”
Surprise filled her expression. “How can you invest wisely if—?”
“I can read if I have to, but I prefer numbers.”
She wandered across the game room to run her hand along the birchwood pool table. “It must have been hard at school. I have a friend who’s dyslexic and she told me how tough it was to get good grades.”
“It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “That’s one of the reasons I didn’t go to college.”
“You became a SEAL instead, and then, you got hurt.”
“Yeah.” He wondered if this was how it felt to have his skin peeled off his bones.
“After recovering, you came back to Miami where your family lives.” She glanced at him and caught his nod. “Then what? You just got involved with numbers somehow?”
“My Chief made me.” He paused to think how best to describe how he’d found himself with a man’s life savings. A man who trusted him to invest shrewdly. The trust in that act had brought him out of the depression he’d fallen into after realizing he’d never go on a mission again.
“Your chief?” Her curious question broke him out of his memories.
“Chief Galtero. My SEAL boss, so to speak.” Wandering over to a leather sofa, he sunk into it as well as the storm of memories. “He got involved after Charlie called him.”
“Charlie’s your friend who came to our dinner party.”
“Correct.” His hands fisted in the pockets as he remembered how haughty he’d been during that evening. To her and her parents. “When I got hur
t, Charlie called me.”
“He comes from wealth.”
“Yeah, he does.” The memory of the call, how his SEAL buddy pitched him on a new life, returned. He knew he’d been in a deep depression. Something he figured Charlie understood at the time. Because his friend hadn’t let go of him until he agreed to attend a couple of investment meetings. Slowly, with charm and flair and advice, the man had lured him into a new way of life. Not entirely satisfying, yet better than he’d had while he laid on his mimi’s couch staring at the TV. “Anyway, Charlie taught me the ropes and Chief Galtero was the first to give me his savings to invest.”
“Wow.” She stilled, her expression finally showing she was impressed with something about him. “Your chief really trusted you.”
“Yeah, he did.” A bright curl of inexplicable pride still rumbled inside him every time he thought about the moment the older man had written a check and looked him in the eye. “So I had to make good on it.”
“And you did.”
“I did.” He let his legs sprawl out in front of him, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Still, he felt very much like this was turning into an interrogation, bringing him through his life in the last few years. Something he hadn’t contemplated or wanted to look at for a long time. If ever.
But he owed her.
“So.” He shrugged. “I started a company.”
“Just like that.” Leaning against the pool table, she folded her arms in front of her and stared at him. It struck him again how pretty she was, with her long legs and shapely body and rounded chin. “You started a company.”
“Um. Yeah.” Another shrug.
“A company that made you a millionaire.”
“Ah. Actually, I’m a billionaire.” The word rolled through him like thunder, still stringing surprise in its wake.
Her gaze narrowed and her lips firmed.
A cough came from him because confusion at her reaction made him cautious. Usually, when women found out the extent of his wealth, they flew at him with smiles and invitations. “It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal,” she murmured. “What is the name of your company?”
“The name? It’s silly.” It was silly. A stupid, funny joke he’d landed on when he’d gone drinking one night with a SEAL buddy home for only a few days between missions. Eddie had a new baby and a wife, and he was deathly afraid of dying and leaving them with little to live on. After listening to Chief crow about the gains Riq had made with his savings, Eddie was the second veteran to trust him with his money.
Trust him with his family’s future.
“Tell me,” she demanded.
Sighing, he rolled his head onto the back of the couch and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see her reaction. “Knight Trader.”
A silence dropped in the room.
After a few seconds, he couldn’t help going on. “See. I had a buddy in the SEALs who loved reading about the Knights Templar.”
“Oh,” she said. “Knight not night.”
“Well, I like to work at night, too, so it seemed to fit.”
“Because the SEALs are kind of the modern equivalent of the Knights of old.”
His eyes opened with surprise at her wise observation. “Yeah. I guess.”
“You guess, huh.” Drifting across the room, she threw him a wry glance. “I’m not an airhead, Riq. I graduated with honors and I do enjoy reading.”
A flush of embarrassment, an echo of his wretched sense of being stupid, flashed through him.
“That wasn’t a dig.” She came to a stop by the dart board. “Only an observation. I read a lot about medieval history and I know something about the Templars, that’s all.”
He didn’t know where to look or what to say. He closed his eyes once more.
“So you named your company and you got some money, and then what?”
The thought of discussing the myriad lessons he’d learned about investing and business made his throat clutch. He didn’t talk about this. To anyone. Certainly not his family—who probably wouldn’t believe it. Not his SEAL buddies who all invested with him, but didn’t want to know the details other than he’d take care of their families if they fell in the line of duty. Why they didn’t trust Charlie with their money had never made sense to him, yet the one time he’d questioned his friend, he’d been shot down. So, he’d kept his thoughts and his business dealings to himself. Not even Charlie and other angel investors knew the true scope of his holdings.
He owed her, but he didn’t think he could give her this. “I just started putting money into stocks and stuff.”
“And stuff.”
“Yeah.” He gave her another dismissive roll of his shoulders.
“And just like that, you have a billion dollars in the bank.”
More like several hundreds of billions. He knew he’d gotten lucky. More than once. Except knowing his numbers and sensing certain trends in those numbers often put him in the right place at the right time. Investing in a few internet startups had led him to a couple of biotechnical companies, which had parlayed into a bunch of high-tech medical advances and… ¡Ahí está!
He was rich.
But he’d never thought of it as something he’d accomplished. Something he could be proud of. Rather, it was a burden he’d taken on willingly, because his buddies wanted help, and if he couldn’t be with them in battle, the least he could do was be with them where they needed him. As Charlie had pointed out more than once—what the hell else was he going to do with his life?
A quiet hush fell in the room again.
When it got too heavy he couldn’t take it anymore, he coughed and eased himself to a stand. “I can show you the outdoor shower, if you want.”
When he turned and opened his eyes, she stood right in front of him. So close he could see the individual blond lashes shading her eyes. Her gaze was too penetrating for his liking. “You have an outdoor shower.”
“Yeah.” He sighed at the look on her face. “I’m sorry about that, too.”
“Sorry you have an outdoor shower?”
That was humor lurking in her tone. The realization made his heart zing with hope. “Sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier.”
“I think I’ve forgiven you.”
“You think?” He let a sly slither of a tease into the question in hopes she’d respond in the way he wanted. With a tease of her own and no more questions.
She did. And she didn’t.
Her smile licked a taunt at him. “I will for sure, if you tell me one more tiny thing.”
“Negotiating. That’s a good skill to have, sunshine.” He let himself relax.
Too soon.
“Tell me why you don’t have a gym.”
Chapter 28
Risa knew the exact moment where she’d pushed him too far.
Why the gym? Why would that be a big deal? Especially after he’d grudgingly told her the name of his company, how it started, and what a damn hero he was. By his expression when he talked about investing his chief’s funds, she knew he took that responsibility to heart. Clearly, by his success, he’d made his boss, and likely other veterans, secure for life.
A hero in so many ways.
Though she had the solid impression, he didn’t realize that fact.
“Come on, and I’ll show you the shower.” He slapped a fake smile on his handsome face. “It’s really cool.”
“You’re not answering my question, so I can’t forgive you.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he muttered as he turned and strode toward the open arch leading to one of what seemed like a hundred staircases.
The house was as amazing as she’d assumed the moment she’d seen it. Yet, it surprised her, as well. The surprise came not from the extensive rooms and luxury finishes, but by how Spartan it was at its core. The colors were a blend of the natural world surrounding the house—a cool white and cream, a subtle touch of green or blue. There were no fancy flourishes on the furniture, only stolid, s
turdy pieces that matched their owner. There was also a curious sense of flying, of being above the world, above any problems below.
“It’s down here.” He came to a stand by a steel door inserted into an outer wall. “We’ll take the elevator.”
“An elevator, but no gym.”
He could be as good at ignoring as she. Before she could press further, the door slid open, and he stepped inside. “Come on.”
Knowing she did want to see this outdoor shower, and understanding him more than she initially had realized, she let the subject go.
For now.
Because she wanted to know everything about this man, even though he’d been so mean to her.
“See?” That wonderful boyish eagerness filled his face, when they rounded a particularly large part of his banyan tree and came to a small niche of a glen. “It’s cool, right?”
“Yes,” she said with a soft sigh. “It’s really cool.”
A wooden-slated path wove into the lush greenery, leading to a circular stone. A tall trunk rose in the air, topped off by a steel shower head. A simple stool with jars of soap and shampoo stood in a bed of moss and fern. Surrounding it were varying slats of timber—palm, teak, and pine.
“Go ahead and try it. I set it up for you to use.” He waved at the luxurious setup. “It’s way different than having a shower in the house. I’ll wait for you back at my office, and then we can discuss your business plan.”
He was being nice. He was being cordial. He was being kind.
And it was real. As real as his sullen attitudes and surly shutdowns. The juxtaposition of such two different men in the same body made her head spin. Because the men she’d known before—her daddy, Spencer, other boyfriends—were fundamentally the same all the time. Her daddy might get depressed once in awhile, but he was always her sunny-tempered daddy at heart. Spencer might cop an attitude if he didn’t get his way. Still, he was predictable in how she could wheedle him out of his funk. Her other boyfriends hadn’t been hard to handle after knowing them for more than a day.
This man standing before her wasn’t fickle, but he held far more secrets than most. She sensed this as if she understood a part of the universe she’d never contemplated before. This man was deep, holding pieces of himself in a subterranean compartment no one was allowed in.