by L. R. Olson
While he’s paying attention to Audrey, I take the opportunity to jerk my right hand from his grasp and try to walk away, but his friend is there, blocking my exit. I swallow my panic; I’m in a public place, after all. Nothing will happen. There are bouncers, security. Where the hell is Christian?
“Out of the way, asshole,” Heidi snaps beside me. She actually shoves the guy, but he just laughs.
“Let me pass,” I growl.
Mr. French Stud wraps his arm around my waist from behind. I know his scent, unfortunately. Suddenly, I’m jerked back into his body. I spin around, hands fisted. He’s smiling as he lowers his head. Oh gross, he’s going to kiss me. I shove my free palm against his chest, trying to keep space between us. I hate this. Hate not having control. Fury rages through me.
“Dance, yes?” he says.
I slam my palms against his chest. “No. No!”
I spot Christian shoving his way through the crowd, his jaw set, his gaze furious. And when he reaches us, the relief I feel is immediate. He tears me away from the man and pushes me behind him. “Laissez-la partir.”
I stumble back into Audrey’s arms. “You okay?”
I nod.
The entire world seems to pause. Christian’s gaze is cold, his muscles flexed against his clothing. He’s deadly still. I can practically feel the fury pounding from him. Audrey, I notice, looks uneasy. Heidi pauses next to me, latching onto my hand.
All around us people are stopping, watching, waiting for something to happen. Some are stepping back toward safety, expecting a fight. A few bodyguards are working their way through the crowd, their gazes on Christian and the French Stud.
“Looks like your boyfriend is protecting your honor,” Heidi whispers.
“He’s not…He’s not my boyfriend,” I whisper back, annoyed and frustrated.
She glances at me. “Does he know that?”
With a frustrated sigh, I step forward and press my hand to Christian’s back. He’s so tense, he’s rock-hard. “It’s okay.” I don’t want Christian to get into trouble for me. Not when I’m leaving in a few days. Not when this is supposed to be just a fling. And not when he was talking to Kirstin just a moment before. “Let it go.”
His jaw clenches. For a brief second I wonder if he will ignore me. I grit my teeth. I thought Christian was better than throwing fists like an egomaniac. I’m not the kind of girl who gets turned on by a man beating up another guy. Especially when that man was just chatting with another woman. And maybe that’s what is really bothering me…Kirstin.
“This is hot,” Heidi whispers.
“No. It’s not. It’s silly.”
The French guy says something to Christian that sounds suspiciously like a curse. Christian snaps something back. This time Max is at his side. The two guards are making their way through the crowds. Christian has plenty of backup. I don’t have to worry about him being murdered, at least.
“What’s going on?” I whisper to Audrey.
She sighs. “Just men trying to mark their territory kind of thing.”
Exactly. It’s not about protecting me, it’s about protecting their egos. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone. I won’t allow myself to get attached. When this is all over, it will be me, only me, lying on that hospital bed, taking my last breath. And he’ll be with Kirstin.
Audrey grins. “Christian said if the guy touches you again, he’ll regret it.”
“What did the guy say?” Heidi asks, enthralled.
“He said that Christian doesn’t own you. And Christian said you’re his. His…” She looks pointedly at me. “Girlfriend.”
Frustration, intrigue and a shiver of denial all race through me at once. Girlfriend. My chest grows tight. The sudden urge to panic overwhelms me. I shake my head. I know I’m being almost cruel, but can’t seem to stop. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
Audrey’s eyes narrow. She’s known all along I was up to no good. She’s never trusted me. “What way?”
My chest feels tight, my heart pounding furiously. This has gone too far. This is my fault. All mine. “He wasn’t supposed to care. This was supposed to be a fling. I can’t hurt him like this. I can’t.”
Desperate to escape, I shove my way through the crowd. I can’t catch my breath. Air. I need air. My heart pounds furiously. A whirl of sensation assaults me all at once. Escape. I need to escape. Escape these emotions. Escape Christian. Escape my own confusing feelings.
“Hope!” Heidi calls out, but I ignore her.
The room is suffocating. The scents too much. The crowds unbearable. The music too loud. Somehow, I manage to make it outside. The streets are dark, empty. The doors shut with a thud and everything grows quiet. Legs weak, I lean against the wall, breathing in the cool, crisp air. Girlfriend. He called me his girlfriend. I close my eyes. How could he? What was he thinking?
A burst of music explodes into the quiet night as someone opens the door. I cringe, knowing it’s Christian even though I don’t open my eyes. He pauses in front of me. We don’t touch but I can feel his heat. Sense his presence. It’s the second time I’ve fled a club. It’s becoming awkward.
“Hope.”
Slowly, I lift my lashes.
His face is tense. I feel like I can see into his soul. The moment pierces me like an arrow. Dear god, I’m falling for him. Falling so damn hard that it hurts. What have I done? To me? To him? Staring up into his beautiful face is painful. Actually painful. And I know in that moment that he will haunt me until I draw my last breath.
“Are you alright?” he asks softly.
“Three days,” I say to him, my voice tight with desperation. “I have three more days here.”
His jaw clenches and the softness in his gaze turns brittle cold. He looks like his father again and it frightens me. “You’re going to Sweden.”
I cross my arms over my chest. I’m shaking and cold, although not from the temperature, but from my own emotions. “It doesn’t matter. In the end, in less than two weeks, I’m still going home! We’ll never see each other again. Don’t you get that?”
He slams his palms on the wall, trapping me between his arms and surprising me so much that I jump. “What do you want, Hope?”
I swallow hard. He’s only a breath away and his furious pants brush against my mouth. Games. I’ve been playing games with him, and he knows it. I’m not afraid of Christian. I’m afraid of the emotions he stirs within. Afraid of the emotions I see in his eyes. Afraid that when this ends, I’m going to be the one who is heart-broken.
“What do you want,” he says through gritted teeth.
A shiver races down my spine. His gaze is furious. No more games. No more holding back. He won’t stand for it.
“What. Do. You. Want?”
“What do I want?” I want love. I want a life. I want…him. Everything I can’t have. “I don’t know.”
There’s a pulse thrumming in the side of his neck, beating hard and frantic. He steps close, so close that his body presses into mine and I can feel every hard muscle. Captive. He’s holding me captive, but it feels so wonderful. “What do you want, Hope?”
I want Kirstin to go back to Denmark. I want to take him back to his sweet cottage and worship his amazing body. I want to tell him the truth. But I can’t. Angry, I shove my hands against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “It doesn’t matter what I want, don’t you get that? This is out of our control!”
He slams his palms on the wall again. “What do you want?”
I shake my head. He won’t relent. He’s asking for too much. Too damn much. “You!” I scream. “I want you!”
The magic words. There’s a bizarre sense of relief I feel the moment the truth is out. Just like that his gaze softens. Tears burn my eyes. He cups the sides of my face. His hold is tender and possessive all at once. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
Then he lowers his mouth to mine and I’m gone. Completely gone, my world turned upside down by this man. A man who was supposed
to be a one-night stand.
Chapter 13
Visit Bergen, Norway
Fall in Love
“Where are we going?”
Christian’s face is unreadable. This morning we drove about five hours north, talking about nothing and everything, but what really matters…our relationship. The conversation is light, as if neither of us wants to snap the thin line that’s still connecting us. That line that was tested last night at the club. A line I almost broke.
It might be frayed…but it’s still there and I feel it more keenly than ever.
Last night, sex with him had been frantic, almost desperate. I’d awoken feeling vulnerable and somewhat lost. I close my eyes, taking in a deep, steadying breath. I’d felt things I have no right feeling, for a guy I have no right to want.
When I’d told Heidi that Christian wanted to take me on an overnight surprise, she’d handed me a bag, already packed. Apparently she’d helped him plan. Traitor. I feel guilty about leaving my cousin, but Audrey has the day off and is going to take her site-seeing. Besides, Heidi can’t be mad, after ditching me in Copenhagen.
Christian turns the car down a side road, driving uphill by homes and apartments. There’s so much greenery, that you barely notice the buildings. Man-made construction seems to blend into nature-made as if they’re one.
“You’ll see.”
Despite the unease between us, I find being trapped in the car with him surprisingly comfortable. The soft, plush seats, the low sound of classical music, and the scent of his aftershave permeate the air. His presence melts me. Turns me into mush.
There’s a part of me, a sad and pathetic little part that dreams about a relationship with Christian. At the least, maybe, just maybe we can still be friends when this is over, because the thought of never seeing him is unbearable. Never hearing his voice. His laugh.
“So mysterious,” I say with a forced grin. I don’t want things to be weird. I want these last few days to be happy memories. No regrets. I pick nervously at a loose thread on the hem of my skirt. “Have I mentioned I hate surprises?”
“You hate surprises and ice cream? What’s next…kittens?”
I shrug. “What can I say…I like being different.” We turn right, heading up another hill, rolling by cute houses overlooking the lake. “How did you get the car?”
“Stole it.”
It’s a silver BMW with all the upgrades. “Of course. I expect nothing less of you. I do have a thing for bad boys.”
He slides me a glance. Damn, he looks good behind the wheel. He’s placed his suit jacket in the back seat and drives in a white dress shirt and black trousers that stretch against his muscles. He looks relaxed, as if he belongs in such elegance. Is used to it, while I’m used to flip-flops and tank-tops.
“Do you really have a thing for bad boys?”
I laugh. “No. We have a certain amount of time on earth, I don’t really want to spend it in jail for accessory. Or worrying if the guy I love is cheating.”
I don’t realize what my comment implies until I notice his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Shit. Did I just imply I’m in love with him? Aghast, I jerk my head toward the windows and stare unblinkingly at the passing trees.
“Good to know,” he murmurs.
Awesome. I’ve made things weird again.
Lighten the mood, lighten the mood, the wind seems to beat against the windows.
I clear my throat. “I do have it on good authority that you used to be a bad boy.”
He continues to stare straight ahead; he’s barely looked at me this entire trip. He’s lost in his own world. I can tell he’s trying to decide how much to divulge; how much of his past he wants to share. “I wasn’t a bad boy. I was a spoiled, arrogant ass, doing my best to become another version of my father.”
His harsh words make me cringe. Perhaps it would be better if I keep my mouth shut. But keeping my mouth shut doesn’t keep my mind from wondering: is he being hard on himself or just honest? I can’t imagine him as an arrogant ass. But at the museum benefit in Copenhagen…well, perhaps I saw a peek of that cold man.
I frown. Who is the real Christian? As selfish as it sounds, I admit it bothers me that he still hasn’t mentioned his sister. Last night he pried into my emotions, demanded I tell him the truth about my feelings. Yet, he hasn’t been completely honest with me. He’s holding back too. I felt it on our first date, I feel it now.
“I don’t know. I bet you were a nice kid, a sweet boy. Maybe you lost your way for a few years, but you’re back to your true nature now.”
He laughs, a wry breath of air but doesn’t respond. I swallow my sigh. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut and not pry? Why can’t I accept things how they are? Because…because he makes me yearn for the impossible.
He slows the car as we make it to a parking lot tucked between homes. “Or maybe you give me too much credit.” He parks the BMW and finally looks at me. “The car is my mom’s. Ready?”
Apparently we’re changing the subject. The mysterious mother I’ve never met. He left this morning on his motorcycle, only to return with the car. I haven’t pried, mostly because I’m still feeling vulnerable after what happened at the club last night. Prying into his life, leads to him prying into mine.
However, knowing he went to his mother’s house makes me curious. Maybe we aren’t as close as I fear. After all, he could have taken me on the motorcycle with him. I’m not sure how to feel about the realization that he had no issue introducing me to his monster of a father, but won’t introduce me to his saint of a mother. I shouldn’t feel anything but relieved.
This is just a fling, after all. Right?
“Ready for what?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer, just steps out of the car. I’m wearing my black dress again with my little pearl necklace. Christian pulls on his suit jacket. And he looks good. Really good. It’s obvious his dress clothes are tailor made. You don’t get a jacket that fits so well off the rack. He comes around to my side and helps me out like the gentleman he is. He’s being quiet and mysterious, frustrating and intriguing.
His fingers wrap around mine as we move up a paved trail. We checked into a sweet little cottage across the lake hours ago, changed and started to our mystery destination. We’ve been together for hours. Hours when he could have brought up his family, his past…his sister. But maybe it’s better this way. The story of his sister’s death is the last secret he holds between us. We’re even. One to one.
“About last night,” he says.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about last night.”
He pauses and looks at me, his gaze unnerving. “Why?”
Shit. A shiver of unease whispers down my spine. Talking leads to feelings. Feelings lead to bonding. I can’t bond with him, but part of me fears it’s too little too late. “Because we should just enjoy this…the few more days we have together.”
That crease appears between his brows, and a tic pulses to life in his jaw. He’s annoyed. Maybe even angry. “And then that’s it, right? We don’t ever talk again? Vacation romance over.”
My own irritation flares, and I ask him the same question he asked me yesterday. “What do you want?”
“I want to know you.” He lets go of my hand and rakes his fingers through his hair, leaving it mussed. “But you won’t let me, will you?”
My irritation turns to anger. “I won’t let you know me? Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?”
The words slip from my lips before I can draw them back in. I’m not sure who is more shocked by my blunt question. He stiffens. I suck in a breath, fearing I’ve gone too far. The silence between us grows heavy.
What was I thinking? Maybe I’m angry that he continues to push me, yet isn’t opening himself. Or maybe I just want to change the subject before we talk about something neither of us needs to discuss. Or maybe, just maybe, I need a reason for him to hate me.
“It never came up.”
His voice is tight with exasperation. Now I’m back to being annoyed. Never came up? Obviously Kirstin knows. Max knows. Audrey knows. I’m sleeping with him and he doesn’t think it’s necessary for me to know about his past, yet he has no problem dragging mine out in the open?
“Christian, I asked you if you had any siblings.” I cross my arms over my chest. Yes, I’m angry he lied. But angrier that he’s demanded so much from me when he’s held back. “I told you about my father’s death.”
“Yes, but you weren’t responsible for your father’s death.”
Shocked, I blink up at him. Surely, I misunderstood. “Christian, I…”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. The very air between us feels charged. Trees shade his face, making his eyes almost unreadable, but I can feel his sadness, his pain. “Tonight. Okay? We’ll talk about it tonight.”
Part of me wishes I’d never brought up the subject. He takes my hand and we continue up the trail, both of us stiff and quiet. Tension crackles like static electricity, and I’m not sure how to make it better. Christian was not responsible for his sister’s death. I won’t believe it. No matter what he thinks…I know the truth. But it doesn’t matter what I believe, it only matters how he sees the past.
“Christian, I don’t—”
“There,” he interrupts. “Just ahead.”
He’s trying to change the subject. Grudgingly, I oblige and follow his line of vision. A modern building with sharp angles stands at the end of the path. It looks vaguely familiar although I can’t place it. Something I saw on the internet while at home researching my trip. “Where are we?”
I can feel him studying me closely. “Edvard Grieg Museum.”
I jerk my attention toward him. “Are you serious?”
He nods, his gaze watchful, as if he’s trying to decipher my reaction. Steps from the modern visitor center is a quaint performance hall nestled into the side of a hill, complete with a Scandinavian grass roof. And beyond, I can see the peaks of the small, historical house that was his cottage.
“How…” I clasp his hand to my chest. “He’s my favorite.”