Becoming The Boss

Pouting those luscious lips, she weighed him up from top to toe, her gaze burning holes in his ten-thousand-pound tux. He felt all but cauterised.

‘First off, why don’t you tell me why you’re avoiding me?’

Because I can’t tell you what you want to hear.

‘Because every time I look at you I want to make love to that beautiful mouth of yours. It’s addictive.’ She was like a drug—the prime source of some very intense highs. ‘But you don’t want that, do you, Seraphina?’ he asked, rich and smooth, with a sinful tone he couldn’t quell even if he tried.

Up came her stubborn chin. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘Then I would advise you to stay away. Because sooner or later we’ll have another repeat of last night.’

It was only a matter of time. Whether she wanted to believe it or not.

From the way her pulse throbbed wildly at the base of her throat and a soft flush feathered her skin he knew she was thinking about their kiss. Was she still tasting him as he could her?

‘I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice. I know a car crash when I see one,’ she said tartly. Then gave herself away by licking her raspberry pout.

She could taste him, all right. He’d also bet she wanted more and loathed herself for it.

Cursing inwardly, he allowed himself the luxury of drinking her in before he made his excuses and left.

Covered in a thin black trench coat, with a high, stiff collar and a straight no-nonsense hem just above the knee, she reminded him of a prissy professor. Though her perfectly sexy knees and her shapely bare calves smothered in luscious ivory skin ruined the imagery. As for her feet…

Finn clenched his jaw and breathed past the grin begging to be let loose.

Oh, man, did he want to see under that coat. More than his next breath.

‘Do you like to gamble, Miss Scott? Try your chances with Lady Luck?’

‘Not particularly. I’m not so sure I believe in luck.’

Her admission was a prelude to a charge in the air as secrets and lies swirled around them in an electrical storm.

‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ he drawled. Risky, Finn—and didn’t that just rouse his desire? He chose his next words very, very carefully. ‘If you do something for me I may grant you one wish. As long as it’s in my power to give.’

Up came her chin once more, her grey gaze narrow with scepticism as her need fought hand in hand with obvious discomfort. ‘Deal.’

‘Show me what you’re wearing beneath that coat.’

‘Wh…what?’

‘You heard. Untie that sash, undo those buttons, pull that coat wide and show me.’

Chaotic emotion and energy writhed around inside him.

What he was doing he had no idea. All he knew was that common sense and control took a back seat when he was within five feet of her.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and the sultry swell of her breasts made heat, fast and furious, speed through his body.

Ah, hell, he should stop her.

Right now.

‘A deal is a deal, Miss Scott. You don’t strike me as the type to renege.’

She tapped her hands against the ruffle of material at her thigh and slowly, provocatively, tiptoed her fingers up to the knot of her sash.

Finn gritted his teeth as the ribbon-like belt sank to each side of her hips.

Every pop of every button was magnified, the sound echoing off the silk-covered walls, until she gripped the sides of the soft black fabric.

Then she heaved a bashful sigh, rolled her eyes, and pulled the lapels wide, giving him exactly what he was looking for.

‘Happy now?’ she snapped.

‘Ecstatic.’ Only Serena would storm into one of the most exclusive casinos in the world wearing a pair of frayed denims cut high on her toned thighs and another quirky T-shirt—this one ocean blue, with two scuba divers and the words ‘Keep Your Friends Close and Your Anemones Closer’ riding across her taut stomach.

With no effort whatsoever, she lit up his dark, dark soul.

‘What gave me away?’ she asked, a hint of petulance smoking her tone.

He pointed his index south. ‘Your feet.’

Her gaze followed the direction of his finger. ‘What’s wrong with my feet?’ Her brow furrowed, her head shot back up, eyes slamming into his. ‘And what’s with that wicked gleam and that grin?’

‘I’ve just never seen you in anything other than biker boots.’

‘So?’ she snarked. ‘One of my dad’s ex-lovers gave them to me, I think. This is the first time I’ve had them on.’

Light crept over marble-grey and Finn hurtled towards lucidity. The reason she wouldn’t be seen dead here. The reason she’d shied away from the glamour puss outside the bathroom. Not only did she feel uncomfortable around women, she felt horridly out of place—and yet she’d come here to find him.

Beautiful and brave. He’d never wanted her more. And didn’t that spell trouble?

‘So I’ll ask you again,’ she groused. ‘What’s wrong with my feet?’

‘Nothing, baby, they’re cute.’ The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel worse. She didn’t have a clue.

‘Cute?’ she spat. ‘Kittens are cute. I am not cute. And cut it out with the baby. It’s driving me nuts!’

‘Tell the truth—you love it. Every time I say it you careen into some kind of delightful fluster.’

The nuts part was that she was beginning to like it, and she didn’t want to like anything he said to her.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘Now it’s my turn. I want my wi…’

Her voice trailed off, eyes widening, as he pushed himself off the sofa-arm and sauntered towards her. While he had every intention of playing fair, it wouldn’t hurt to distract her, now, would it? If he tried to kiss her again she would either hit him or bolt. Either exit was fine with him.

When he was up close and personal she raised her head, and Finn caught sight of the wild flutter at the base of her throat.

‘I bet you don’t even realise you have the most beautiful, elegant décolletage.’ He trailed one fingertip down the side of her neck. ‘And this skin of yours is a perfectly gorgeous peach colour.’ Yeah, like peaches and cream, to go with that strawberries and cream voice.

‘St…stop saying stuff like that, Finn.’

No.

‘Love the T,’ he murmured as he brushed down between her breasts with the backs of his fingers, over the creased transfer of frothy waves in a blue ocean—‘Keep Your Anemones Closer’. Sorry, beautiful, not going to happen.

Down, down he stroked—with fire unfurling at the tops of his thighs—and when he reached her navel—

He growled. Snatched his fingers away and slammed both hands against the wall on either side of her head.

‘Wha…what’s wrong?’

Finn closed his eyes. ‘I need to look.’

‘A…at what?’

‘You know what. On your stomach.’

A tremble shook her voice. ‘Only if you tell me what’s wrong with my…my feet.’

Prising his eyes open, he focused on the perpetrators. ‘Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. They’re pretty little…ballerina pumps. I think that’s what they’re called.’

‘Do you know you pause when you lie?’

Great.

‘Okay, okay. They’re slippers.’

Her gorgeous face fell in horror and if she’d been any other woman he suspected she would have burst into tears. Not Serena.

‘They are?’

‘Cute ones,’ he said quickly. ‘With little leopard spots on.’

Dismay vaulted into pique and she visibly vibrated before him. ‘I refuse to feel stupid just because you know more about women’s stuff than I do, considering how many you’ve had.’

He divined that any figure she could engineer would be highly exaggerated, but still… ‘Agreed.’ If she felt stupid she wouldn’t let him take a peek at her belly button, now, would she?

‘Fine. Go on, then. Get it over with. Take a look. But know this: I couldn’t care less for your opinion.’

‘Liar.’ He brushed the pad of his thumb from the corner of his mouth across his bottom lip, eking out the suspense of the moment, then bent his knees and lowered himself into an elegant crouch.

Serena raised the fabric of her T-shirt with an innate feminine sensuality she wasn’t even aware she possessed and vicious need clawed at his gut.

One look and he cursed softly.

All the will in the world couldn’t have stopped him. Out sneaked his tongue and he licked the small loop and diamond-studded ball.

Cool was the silver against the tip of his tongue, and her soft flesh was a welcome splash of warmth as an aftertaste.

Holy…

She tasted of passion fruit and coconut and something else he couldn’t quite catch, so he knew it would torment him.

That was it. He was a goner. He even felt his eyes roll into the back of his head. Wondered if hers were doing the same.

‘You got any more?’ he asked thickly, nuzzling her navel with the tip of his nose. All the while he was commanding his legs to stand up and back the hell away.

‘M…more?’ she said, or at least she tried to.

The way her midriff quivered he could tell her breathing was as bad as his.

‘Piercings.’

‘Piercings?’

What was she? A parrot?

‘Yes!’

‘No. No more…piercings.’

He moaned low in his throat. ‘But something else, right?’

Silence. Only the staccato wisp of a desperate moan from her lips.

‘Tell me,’ he demanded.

So of course she said, ‘No.’

‘Oh, man, you’re killing me, Serena.’ Up he came, standing tall to press closer. To crush those gorgeous breasts against his chest.

When was the last time he’d felt like this? Like his old self but astoundingly better because his ever-present guard was low. Risky. So risky.

But when was the last time he’d thought about anything but Singapore? In one way it physically hurt to be near her, aware that he caused her pain. But in the next second he was a man again and there was heat. So much heat. Scorching his blood in a rush of need and pure want. Never had he felt anything like it.

Selfish as always, he wanted—no, needed one more taste.

‘I warned you, baby. You should’ve left when you had the chance.’

Desperate to savour as much of her as he could, he dived into the heavy fall of her hair and closed the gap until they were nose-tip to nose-tip.

‘This is crazy, but—do you feel this?’ he asked, unable to hide the awe in his voice.

Fighting to keep her eyes open, she shook her head, rubbing his nose with her own. ‘No…’ she breathed on a hot little pant.

‘Good. Me neither.’

Softly, languidly, he brushed his lips over her velvety pink flesh and the pounding of his heart jacked out of rhythm. Then the need that continually clawed at him grew steel-tipped talons and slashed through his gut, demanding he mark her, take her, glut himself on her.

And she was melting. There was no other word for it.

‘I’m…’ Hard. So hard. For the first time in almost a year.

Thought obliterated, he crushed her body into the wall, then slanted his head and deepened his kiss. Like dynamite they ignited, and when she responded with a tentative stroke of her tongue his hands began to shake.

Her mouth was heaven—warm and wet, with the slip and slide of passionate lips—but, greedy as he was, he wanted more. A deeper connection. He longed for her to move, to touch him properly, covet his body with her small hands, be skin-to-skin. Claim him. Brand him as her own. Which was not only bizarre but hellishly scary.

Still the need went on. Because he wanted her to feel how hard he was for her, to know what she did to him, how sexy and desirable she was—

Whoosh! The door swung open with a bellow of male voices and they were flung apart as if electrocuted. It was comical in a way. Serena was visibly rattled and he doubted he looked much better. And since when had that ever happened?

She whipped the black fabric around her waist, veiling her body, and fumbled with the sash—her jerky movements made his heart thunder in a fiercely savage urge to protect.

‘We leave now,’ he commanded, livid that he’d placed her in this position.

They were halfway to the door when one of the men broke into laughter as he settled at a gaming table.

Serena crashed to a halt. Stared at the man’s back. Paled to a ghostly white. And Finn’s guts twisted, tying him into knots. ‘Hey, baby?’ he murmured. ‘What’s wrong?’

In response she bolted past one of the other guests like a mare from the starting gate, almost knocking that man off his feet as she virtually ran out the door.

What the…?

By the time he caught up she was galloping down the hallway.

‘Serena, stop. Stop!’

Edging his way to stand in front of her, before she trampled over half the Casino members, he slipped his finger under her chin and lifted it gently.

‘Look at me. Speak to me. Do you know that guy?’

‘No.’ Hands trembling, she gripped the lapels of his jacket and leaned into him.

Finn could feel her warm breath through his shirt as she burrowed as if starved of affection, and he instinctively pulled her into the tight circle of his arms.

Holding her was like a chorus of pleasure and pain that struck at his guilt but sang a sweet note of solace, and he luxuriated in the feel of her.

‘No!’ She twisted and rolled her shoulders to wrench free. ‘Get off me, Finn. Right now.’

Feet leaden, he took a step back, fists plunging to his sides.

Remorse and mortification darkened the grey hue of her eyes and he swallowed hard, knowing. It was Finn who was the issue here. She was ashamed of wanting him, crestfallen at her reaction to him, horrified she’d kissed him back at all.

Well, then… Considering the destruction he’d caused in his life, it was highly indicative and somewhat poignant that he’d never hated himself more.

Chapter Six

SHE WAS HEARING voices, seeing things. She must be. That laugh was dead and buried but still it crawled through her veins like venom.

Gorging on air, she calmed the violent crash of her heart before she completely lost her mind and tried to snuggle into Finn again. Come on, Serena. Snuggle? Being weak and needy was not a condition she’d ever aspired to.

Honestly, this night couldn’t get any worse. Charging up here to confront him hadn’t been the brightest idea, but she’d had an entirely different kind of tongue-lashing in mind.

Forget lethal weapon—the man was a nuclear bomb. And his kiss… Holy moly. There she’d been, quite content to pretend their last lip-lock had been an apparition. Why bother to remember when it couldn’t possibly have been that shockingly good?

Except it was that shockingly good. And bad all at the same time.

Her reactions to him were ridiculously extreme. It was as if he flipped a two-way switch inside her—hate or lust. Which just made no sense. She’d kissed men she’d actually liked before and been slammed in a freezer, yet one touch from Lothario here and she burst into flames!

Sheer panic had her scrambling for perspective. Truthfully, she shouldn’t feel so disgusted with herself, so humiliated for succumbing to him. Not when the entire female race swooned at those extraordinary cerulean eyes. Expired at that sinful, sensual mouth. And that was before he backed it up with a truckload of charismatic charm.

Serena was just one of many.

Ugh. The idea that she was turning into a woman like one of her dad’s playthings made her feel physically sick.

And of course the dirty deed had to transpire with her wearing slippers, of all things—just her rotten luck. And Finn knew what they were. Of course he did. He’d probably tugged billions of the things off perfectly feminine feet.

How. Utterly. Mortifying.

At the risk of garnering attention, she whispered furiously, ‘Don’t you ever touch me again. Your hands are not welcome on me.’ She was being unfair, she knew she was, but she despised herself for that momentary lapse.

‘Noted,’ he bit out, his jaw tight enough to crack, and she fancied his broad frame seethed with self-loathing.

Clearly she was losing it.

Serena edged around his broad frame, determined not to notice how he filled out his sinfully suave tuxedo to perfection. ‘I have to go. I’ll see you in the morning.’

She didn’t slow her pace until she was free of the oppressive glitz and glamour, her feet step-step-stepping down the stone slabs of the wide front entrance.

‘I’ll walk you down to the harbour.’

Finn fell into place beside her, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, and as if he sensed she was spooked he ground out, ‘No arguments.’

It was the second time he’d brandished that arrogant, masculine tone like a swordsman in protective stance and it did something strange to her insides. Made her go all warm and gooey. Which naturally made her every self-defence instinct kick into gear. She wanted to tell him to get lost—preferably on Mars. But something stopped her.

It was that frigid, ominous laughter. Playing in her mind. An endless loop of pain and vulnerability. Vehement enough for her to say, ‘Okay…’ because in truth she felt infinitely safer with him beside her.

Down the cobbled streets they went, the only sound the clickety-clack of his highly polished shoes and the sensual whispers of couples strolling by hand in hand.

As always, the sight made her heart ache. Ache for something she’d never have. Relationship material she was not.

Suddenly cold, she wrapped her arms across her chest, and by the time the tang of seawater filled her lungs and the harbour was a glittering stretch before them she was waging an internal war against asking him to stay.

‘Thanks for walking with me. I’ll be fine from here.’

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay? Is there anything I can do? Anything you want, Serena?’

Cruel—she was being cruel. The last few months had turned her into a horrible, horrible person but she couldn’t curb the truth.

‘The only thing I want right now is Tom. He was more than my brother—he was my friend.’ And she didn’t want to be alone.

But you are alone, Serena, and you always will be. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

‘I know,’ he said, his voice deep and low, tainted with sombre darkness. ‘Believe me, I know.’

It was a voice she’d never heard before. One that made her stop. Pause. Wonder at the torment engulfing his beautiful blue eyes.

‘I would do anything to turn back the clock. Anything to change the words I said. If only I’d just told him no when he asked to come out with me. Countless times I’ve wished for just that.’

As if he’d hit her with a curveball, she swayed on her feet.

The way he’d phrased it, so simply, had brought it all down to choices. Tom’s choice in asking to follow his hero. Finn’s choice in allowing him to.

Strange to think how the twists of fate intertwined with free will.

Every day they lived a voyage of discovery, moved through life based on choices like forks in the road. They peered down all the options, considered, weighed the risks, finally made a choice—some good, some bad. Some affecting no one but themselves. The worst affecting those they loved. But all of them defining. Forging who they were.

She’d made hundreds of choices in her lifetime and had one major regret. A choice that had affected her dad’s life, Tom’s life too, until the day he’d died. One made when she’d been naïve about her place in the world, no more than a girl, but a disastrous choice even so.

‘I would do anything to turn back the clock.’

Serena would too.

Instead she lived with the guilt, struggled with it, controlled it. Recognised it when she saw it in others. This time she saw it in Finn—such depth of emotion—her first glimpse in…forever.

First? No. She’d been struck with shards of his shattering façade since last night.

Glimpse? No. He looked devastated. Seething with a darkness she truly believed was pain.

‘Finn?’ Who was this man? Thawing the ice and hate she’d packed in her chest. ‘Oh, Finn, you really liked him, didn’t you?’ He was grieving too.

Punching his fists deep into his trouser pockets, he cast his gaze over the moonlit ripple of the ocean. ‘He was a good kid.’

Knowing this was her chance, she begged him, ‘Tell me what happened that night. Your version. Please. My dad just keeps saying there was a storm and he fell overboard during the night, but when I checked there were no weather warnings, no reports.’

His brow etched in torment, he closed his eyes momentarily. ‘It was…’ His throat convulsed. ‘Unexpected. There is nothing more to tell.’

His tone was as raw as an open wound and she ached for him, but— ‘Why do I think there is?’

‘Because you need to let go.’ He shoved frustrated hands through his thick blond hair. ‘Otherwise you’ll find no peace, Serena. I promise you.’

A cool rush of sea air washed over her in a great wave and she crossed her arms over her chest, then curled her fingers around her upper arms and rubbed at the sudden prickle of gooseflesh.

‘Peace? I don’t know what that feels like. I never have.’

Finn stilled, watching her, predator-like. Then anger crept across his face, dark and deadly, and her pulse surged erratically at her wrist.

‘Have you been hurt? In the past?’ he asked, almost savagely.

It was as if his genetic make-up had been irrevocably altered and she could feel the ferocious fury of an animal growling through him. Not to harm—no, no. To protect.

She shouldn’t like that. She really shouldn’t.

‘Serena?’

‘I… Well…’ She bit her top lip to stem the spill of her secrets.

Ridiculous idea. It had to be the way he visibly swelled beneath his suave attire as if to shield her. It made her heart soften and she couldn’t afford that. Just the thought rebooted her self-preservation instincts and she dodged.

‘To be honest, Finn, I’m not one for dwelling on the past.’ She didn’t want to remember being naïve and weak and broken. Didn’t want Finn to suspect she was any of those things. She refused to be vulnerable to him. To any man ever again.

More importantly, she was over it. She’d made a life for herself. A good life. True, being initiated into the dark realms the world had to offer at fourteen years old was not conducive to relationships and all the messy complexities that came with them.

It was hard to trust, to let go. And, while she’d vowed her past wouldn’t define her, or cripple her life with fear, any attempts she’d made at intimacy had been a dishearteningly dismal experience. She’d chosen a wonderfully sweet safe guy but she’d felt distanced somehow. Detached. Compounded by her blatant lack of femininity, no doubt. But she had her work, which she loved, and her team kept her from touching the very depths of loneliness. And if the tormented shadows still haunted her once in a while she fought them with all her might.

Feeling that infusion of bravado, she lifted her chin. ‘Anyway, do I look like the kind of woman someone could easily mess with?’ She hoped not. She’d spent years building her defences after all.

Finn slowly shook his head and his fierce scowl was tempered into a decadent curve of his lips as he murmured what sounded like, ‘That’s my girl.’

Their eyes caught…held…and Serena would have sworn she actually felt the odd dynamic of their relationship take a profound twist.

Before she knew it more words flooded over her tongue—a chaotic, unravelling rush she couldn’t seem to stop.

‘When I look at you I want to blame you, hate you.’ And hadn’t it been easier to blame Finn instead of just accepting it as a tragic accident from which no justice could be reaped? ‘But on the back of those thoughts comes the guilt, the self-censure, because he asked me to go out with him that night and I wouldn’t.’