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“Yes.” Michael studied Scarlet for several seconds, then said, “Thank you for caring about the people under this roof. Even my father. I could see you were affected by Karina’s story, by the fact that my father actually was emotionally devastated over my mother’s illness and death.”
“As were you. I’m sorry he never talked
to you about it.”
“Pride can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”
“I suppose so.” She hugged him again. “I would like to spend the night in your apartment. See where you live. Just … be with you. And Sam.” She gave Michael a hopeful look.
His brow furrowed. “I’d like that, too, but no guarantees, sweetheart. He’s not just disturbed by Karina’s admission; he’s mad as hell at you for pushing her to make it.”
“I don’t doubt that. And I won’t press him about anything. I’ll just be there for him.”
“Sam can be a bit of a hothead when warranted.”
“If he needs to yell at me, then let him yell at me. I don’t perform my investigations without grasping the fact that repercussions are a huge possibility. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sam wanted to have words with me, and I think he deserves the opportunity.”
“Fine. We’ll all go back to Manhattan together, if he consents.”
Scarlet flattened her palm against Michael’s corrugated abs and said, “I hate that I’ve upset everyone, but I’m grateful you understand why I had to come here.” She stretched on tiptoe and swept her lips over his.
“Maybe it was time this all unraveled.”
She knew he was being optimistic. Knew Sam wouldn’t feel the same. Was certain of it when she saw him stalk from the solarium, catch sight of her and Michael, and scowl.
“Sam.” Scarlet moved away from Michael. “I really am sorry.”
“Let’s go,” was all he said. And he marched down the marbled corridor.
Their luggage had already been stored in the helicopter since they’d all packed up before brunch. The tension inside the cabin was grueling. Scarlet sat in one of the chairs across from the sofa, which Michael and Sam occupied. She glanced at one man and then the other. Michael appeared deep in thought. Sam glowered. Perhaps not at her, just in general.
Either way, Scarlet’s insides remained knotted.
She desperately wanted to sit between the two men. Feel their heat and smell their cologne. Revel in their closeness. Cover Sam’s hand with hers and do exactly as Karina had done with Mitcham—be a silent supporter.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to move, though. It’d be audacious and presumptuous on her part. And gut instinct told her that it was much too soon for that.
Thus, the trip into the city was a strained one. When they touched down, a hint of panic crept in on Scarlet.
Sam slung the strap of his bag over his broad shoulder and headed toward the limo awaiting them.
Scarlet gripped Michael’s arm and whispered, “You didn’t say anything to him about going to your apartment.”
“You need to be the one to ask him.”
She gaped.
Michael said, “This is mostly between the two of you. Just don’t forget that his temper might flare.”
“I’m not afraid of his temper,” Scarlet said. “He’d never hurt me. But I hurt him.”
“Yes.”
She cringed inwardly. “I’d love to say that wasn’t my intention, but I knew going into this that it comes with the territory. The possibility existed.”
Damn it.
They all climbed into the limo, with Scarlet in the middle. She turned to Sam and said, “Michael would like to talk. And so would I. Will you go to his apartment with us?”
