Beauty Claimed

by Allyson Lindt

  The contact and concern sent tears to prick at her eyelids. She blinked them back. “I can’t have you out here at night. The city council—”

  “Wants this bullshit marring their beautiful town?”

  “No. They’ll be furious either way. But your being out here will make it worse.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I can work quietly.”

  She wanted to scream at him to stop being helpful. Or hug him for not leaving the instant he saw the damage. Or something to give her an outlet for the emotion twisting her insides. “I’ll call the police. I’ll cover this with brown paper when they’re done. I’ll get someone here in the morning to clean it up.” Reciting the list didn’t help calm her the way she wanted. “I can’t face it right now. Please leave it?”

  He nodded. “Let’s go inside at least. Get the cops on the phone.”

  “Okay.” She’d have to let go of his hand to get to her keys. As she unclenched her fingers, her knuckles protested. How hard had she been gripping? And he hadn’t said a word or tried to pull away. Thank Christ he was here. She’d rather have Nathan. Actual comfort, and not the sexy almost-stranger who was more interested in getting laid and in her brother’s money than in her.

  That’s not true.

  She didn’t have the mental capacity to hold that argument with herself.

  “I’m not leaving you alone.” Nick stepped inside with her.

  She should protest and say she could take care of herself, but she didn’t want him to leave. “Okay.”

  He stayed nearby while she called the police. Two officers arrived a short while later. They took photos, gave her an incident number, and promised to keep an eye on things. She felt marginally better as they left.

  But being unable to answer the do you know who would have done this question gnawed at her.

  “Come on.” Nick pointed her toward the stairs. “Those shoes can’t be comfortable.”

  She’d forgotten she was wearing the heels, and he was right. Her toes ached. She stepped out of the shoes, and carried them up to the apartment.

  “Do you want something to drink?” Nick asked when they reached the second floor. “Tea? Wine? Tell me where it is, and I’ll take care of you.”

  She snorted a laugh before she realized why.

  He gave her a puzzled look. “What’s up?”

  “I didn’t expect you to be this sweet, nurturing guy.”

  “I raised my sister for a little while. You’re suffering a lot more than a teenage girl’s broken heart or bad grades, but stress is stress.”

  Tara shook her head and wandered into the living room. “I’m not broken, just shaken. I’ll be fine.”

  “But you’re not yet.”

  She pointed him to a chair. The mood was a bit spoiled for something like cuddling on the couch. She took a seat across from him. “Thank you. For sticking around. For being concerned. I need to not think about this right now.”

  “That’s fair.” Nick’s smile was kind and unassuming.

  Would he take the conversation back to where it was before they were interrupted? Return to talking about one-night stands and the fact that Nathan was okay with her sleeping with other people? It would be distracting. It would prove the graffiti artist’s point—

  No. She didn’t believe that, and she refused to tumble back into the hole that almost consumed her after her divorce.

  “What’s the one thing I absolutely have to do while I’m in Italy?” Nick’s question cut her rambling thoughts short.

  Disappointment and relief mingled inside in a disgusting blur. She reached for the same response she gave anyone who asked. “I mean, it’s not like it’s my fault my husband cheated on me.” She clamped her jaw shut. Fuck her brain.

  Nick didn’t flinch. “I don’t think that for an instant. You’re not to blame for other people’s actions.”

  “A lot of people disagree with you.” Why was she still pursuing this topic?

  “It wouldn’t be the first time, and it won’t be the last. I didn’t realize you’d been married.”

  Of course you didn’t. I never told you. The response lodged in her throat, stuck on disbelief. The world knew she’d been married. “You didn’t dig into my past before you came out here? Antonio did his research on you.”

  “I’m not here to do business with your personal life.” Nick made it all sound so matter-of-fact. “I looked at the company’s public records, their other partnerships, and their financial and innovation history. I looked at Antonio’s previous business venture. That gave me what I needed.”

  “But the tabloid stuff must have come up in your searches.”

  Nick shrugged. “Any family who owns a company like yours makes news. If Bill Gates sneezes in the wrong meeting, people hear about it.”

  That made her smile. “We’re not as big as Microsoft. Not even close.”

  “And I wasn’t concerned about your personal lives as long as your business was sound. Right now, I am worried about you.”

  She believed it, too. She was used to people being nice to her for favors. To get on her family’s good side. She’d expected the same from Nick. But he seemed to mean everything he said. She wasn’t sure how to interpret that. “You barely know me.”

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you. If you want to tell me what’s up, I’m listening. If you still want to change the subject, that’s fine too.”

  Somehow in the last hour he’d gone from confident and sexy, to confident, considerate, and fucking sexy. She’d much rather focus on that than on the events of the evening. But she wanted to give him something. Not because he seemed to expect it, but she needed to get it out of her head, and he felt safe.

  “Marco—my ex-husband—is a member of Parliament. He’s everything people love in a politician: young, handsome, confident, and charismatic. I’ve got a lot of the same going on.” She didn’t have a problem saying that. It was true. “Except when that lens is applied to me, people describe me as a spinster who’s vain, slutty, and annoyingly bossy. When he and I divorced, he played me as the villain to the media. It was my fault. I wasn’t a good wife. What choice did he have but to cheat?”

  The words had stuck for so long that saying them now hurt. She swallowed the barbs of the past.

  “That’s a bit bullshitty.”

  The statement and the vehemence behind them helped soothe her old scars. “It is what it is.” She had a harder time with the denial than she expected. “That’s not completely true. Honestly, it hurts like hell. But I’ve learned for the most part to shove it aside.”

  Nick leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees, and searched her face. “I’m sorry you have to do that. I’m glad you don’t let it diminish you.”

  “Did you see news about the adultery website hack?”

  He nodded.

  “Marco’s name is on it, and apparently that’s my fault. I’m guessing that’s where the graffiti came from.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She clenched her jaw. He’d been kind up to this point. He wasn’t brushing off her concern or doubting her. She had to remember that. “Your sister was pursued, stalked, and attacked because she was sweet online, then had the nerve to tell someone no.” Tara had so much sympathy for Fiona. She only knew what was in the news, but personal experience gave her insight into what Fiona must have gone through.

  “I don’t understand that, either,” Nick said. “I get that it happened to her. And to you. I’m not questioning it. I don’t get why anyone thinks that’s okay. Your situation isn’t quite the same as Fiona’s.”

  “It’s exactly the same.” Okay, not exactly. The details were different. But it was close enough. “I did something that someone didn’t like, and even though my husband was the lying piece of shit, I was the one to blame.” The fallout against Fiona was similar. Tara saw it. If she’d just been nice. Not turned the guy down. Given him a chance. Not been such a raging fucking bitch who was too stuck in her own world
to look at the people around her—

  Tara forced herself to take a deep breath. “I can’t talk about this after all. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology.” Nick looked concerned. How was he doing that? Being... decent? “Why tattoos?”

  The rapid shift in subject, along with the vague question, knocked her thoughts off the rails. It was perfect. “You’ll have to be more specific. That’s like asking why does blue?”

  “It’s not quite the same.” Nick furrowed his brow, then shook his head. “You’re obviously talented. Why did you pick tattoos as a medium for expression?”

  Because she didn’t know how to conform. “It will sound childish.”

  “I wouldn’t think that for a minute.”

  “Are you certain? You strike me as a very by-the-book kind of guy.” Despite her question, she believed him. He had yet to cast shade on her for anything. Compared to the bitterness that tinged her view of the past, this was tame.

  “I have flights of fancy.” Nick’s protest sounded weak.

  This was so much better than what they’d been talking about. “Last time you did something completely random and off the wall?”

  “I flew halfway around the world after a single phone call, because I was told I could meet a princess.”

  Her breath caught. She wouldn’t swoon, no matter how much she wanted to. She twisted her mouth in amusement instead. “I don’t let anyone else call me that.”

  “And you shouldn’t. You’re not a political pawn, meant to be married off to some distant kingdom. You rule your own.”

  Now she was swooning. “I’d complain that you just took the magic out of a young girl’s dream, but honestly, that’s one of the sweetest things you could have said. As for why tattoos... When I was younger, they fascinated me because they were this representation of rebellion. As I got older, I fell in love with the possibilities. Scars that are art. A permanent expression of creation.”

  The way he watched her as she spoke, awe and reverence splashed across his face, made her pulse race. How many problems would she cause if she propositioned someone looking to do business with her brother?

  It would only be for one night. And it wasn’t as though she’d let it impact the working relationship. What could go wrong?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  NATHAN DIDN’T HAVE an issue with Gina. They’d gotten along just fine when she was dating Tara. But she’d been his girlfriend’s girlfriend. Nothing else connected them. “What have you been up to?” he asked.

  She gave a half-shrug. “Same old stuff. Work. Play. Sleep.”

  “Cool.” He picked at his brownie. He’d offered to take her wherever she wanted. It was her night.

  She insisted she just wanted coffee and a little of his time.

  “You two are kicking ass in the competition. Congratulations on that. I’d love to see you win.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled. “Us too. Go figure, I guess.”

  Her giggle was strained. She sipped from an oversized mug.

  Wow. Awkward. If the conversation was going to be stilted anyway, he’d lay his curiosity out. “I have to know. Why me?”

  “I wanted an excuse to have coffee with you.”

  He wasn’t sure how to interpret that. It wasn’t a romantic thing—Gina wasn’t attracted to men. “You could have called. I wouldn’t have even charged you five-thousand euro.”

  “It didn’t occur to me until I saw you on stage. I was going to donate anyway, and this rubbed Tara wrong at the same time.”

  “Ah.” He should have guessed animosity played a part in it.

  Gina covered her face. “That came out bitchier than I intended. A statement like that is bitchy by default, but there was supposed to be more humor behind it. But she’s so fucked-up.”

  “Hey. Tara is good and kind and brilliant and talented—” Nathan stood.

  Gina grabbed his hand. “And lucky to have you. Don’t go. The two of you are good together. I don’t have a problem with that. I just wanted to say...” She sighed. “This is getting all jumbled. Let me start over?”

  Nathan clenched his jaw. He had zero patience when it came to anything negative about Tara.

  “Please? I’m not trying to be mean.” Frustration and apology filled Gina’s request.

  He crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”

  “I loved her dearly.” Sadness crept into her voice. “I didn’t want to leave, but what she and I had wasn’t healthy. You and Tara though? I’ve never seen two people better together. Keep taking care of each other.”

  “We always do. That’s it?”

  “If you think it’s that simple, I’m worried for both of you, but yes, that’s it,” she said.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They tried to restart the conversation, but after swapping another round of questions about work, and observations about the weather, things fizzled out. The entire time, Gina’s request—and everything she’d said—bounced in Nathan’s thoughts. What was he supposed to make of the entire exchange?

  They finally decided to call it a night.

  “I don’t feel like I was a five-thousand-dollar date. I’d love to make it up to you,” Nathan said.

  Gina rested a manicured hand on his arm, sadness hiding behind her amusement. “Keep what we talked about in mind, and tonight was worth it. Like I said, the money goes to a good cause.”

  “Fair enough.” He walked her to the street, and made sure she had a cab home.

  He could do the same—head home—but something was rattling in his thoughts that needed to be unstuck. Tara would be at dinner for a while, so no one would miss Nathan if he wandered.

  The night was chilly, but nothing compared to what he’d grown up with in Chicago. His jacket was enough to keep the bite from his skin.

  He loved living in this part of Milan. The narrow side streets paved with stone and bordered by old buildings that cast long shadows in the moonlight.

  Keep taking care of each other.

  Why were Gina’s words stuck in his head?

  He was almost certain Tara didn’t remember what he told her last night, about the origins of the list.

  It wasn’t as though he’d lied. He’d bring it up again when he got home. Make sure she knew, apologize again for not considering the consequences, and be there for her until things blew over.

  That was a straightforward solution.

  Keep taking care of each other.

  Yeah, okay. He got it. His brain could shut up now.

  Nathan wandered until his feet started to protest, and the cold bit through his coat. A glance at his phone told him it was nearly midnight. It didn’t feel like that long.

  He headed home.

  As he approached the shop, things didn’t look right. The texture of the brick was odd... because it wasn’t brick. A large sheet of butcher paper had been taped over a portion of the building.

  He peeled up the corner of the paper. When he saw the stark red paint, dripping from the word Whore, his concern spiked. Tara. Please be all right.

  He dropped his keys twice before finally fitting the right one into the lock. Before he could turn the knob, it was pulled from his hand, and the door swung open.

  Nick was on the other side. “She’s upstairs. And okay.”

  “Thanks.” Nathan didn’t need to hear more. He sprinted up the spiral staircase, leaving Nick to lock up. If Tara was okay with him being here, so was Nathan.

  Tara was sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath her and lines of worry etched into her expression. She still wore her dress. Her makeup was smudged, and strands of hair had come loose from her updo.

  Nathan knelt in front of her, taking her hands. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  “You know almost as much as I do. It was like that when we got here. I’m fine.”

  Footsteps sounded from behind, but he was focused on her. “You should have called me,” Nathan said.

  “I know. I was focused o
n covering it until we could get it cleaned and I was frazzled and not thinking. Nick kept me from going out of my head.”

  Nathan glanced over his shoulder at Nick, who stood in the doorway. The top button of Nick’s shirt was undone, and he wasn’t wearing a tie. Now that Nathan was paying closer attention, he saw the smudges of dirt around Nick’s cuffs, and a hint of red smeared near his ear.

  “Thank you for that,” Nathan said.

  Nick shrugged. “Not an issue. I wish I could have done more. She told me about the list and the problems with harassment in the past. Are you two safe here?”

  How long had they been talking? “We’ll be fine.” Nathan stood. He felt underdressed compared to these two. Strange thought to have at a time like this.

  “Though, we’ll be up for a while. If you’re still on US time, you’re welcome to stick around. Keep us company,” Tara said.

  An unusual jealousy spiked though Nathan. Where did that come from? He just had dinner with her ex-girlfriend. Watched Tara make out with a random person in a bar the night before. There was no way he minded that she wanted this almost-stranger keeping them company, to feel more secure about her evening.

  Nathan stashed his reaction. “We never mind an extra body in the house.”

  “So she was telling me.” Nick settled in the chair opposite the couch.

  Nathan sat next to Tara, adjusting her legs so they lay across his lap. He didn’t care if it was a possessive gesture. “She told you we’re serial killers?” What should have been a joke came out with an edge.

  Tara let out a light laugh. “Nick has a hard time understanding how two people. Let alone more, make time for each other.”

  Because there was nothing unusual about discussing their love life with the contractor installing software on their network. “It’s not for everyone. You have to be confident and mature enough to handle an arrangement like that.”

  “Is that some sort of weird way of saying I wanted an excuse to fuck other people, so I talked my girlfriend into an open relationship?” Nick asked.

  Nathan didn’t know if he was annoyed or pleased Nick didn’t get it.