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“He used your natural ability to make things fit and created patterns. I think that is how you see the market the way that you do, but he turned it back on you. What he did is evil. It just is. You were a twenty-year-old girl on your father’s yacht, which should’ve been the safest place in the world for you to be. He never told you what you were doing. Take a step back from the situation and look at it logically. If Hope had done it, would you say Hope was responsible for what the Russians then did with their money?”
I chewed on my lip. It was a very good question, because of course I would never blame Hope.
“That’s right. Think this through. Give it a minute. If you read about the situation in the paper—about how some sick guy had agenius daughter and he used her to do shitty things…would you blame her?” His voice sounded gruff, like he was getting angrier as he spoke the words.
Maybe not.“But I’m not most people. I’m not Hope. I’m not…”
“No, you’re not. You’re Bridget, who wanted his attention so much, and who just wanted her father to be impressed with her work. He never managed an iota of what you managed. Your father got lucky. To save his life, he can’t earn now. He had to kidnap his daughter to try to get help. I was on that boat, Bridget. You were trapped. Stuck. You think you could have gotten away from that with some story? They would’ve dragged you out by your hair and made you crunch numbers for them. Okay, maybe they wouldn’t have, because I would’ve stopped them, but you had no way of knowing that.”
Was that true? “You don’t think I’m…I’m evil? Because they took my dad’s stuff, and I’m terrified I’m seconds from them taking me.”
“You were twenty years old, and you didn’t know. I don’t think anyone would convict you, and they’ll never get the chance to try. They won’t be allowed to try.” He sounded dead serious, and I recognized Michael when he really concentrated. “Allard is dead. They gutted him. I saw the pictures, and it wasn’t pretty. Both of the Russians are dead. One of them died last year, but the other died several years ago. Right after that meeting, actually, come to think of it. Your father won’t be allowed to implicate you. Things will be made clear to him. In the event that he should ever be caught and extradited home, if he says one word to anyone about you, he’ll be punished. Plus, I was there. I’ll testify that you did nothing. I have a lot of friends who will help, if the need arises. No one—and I mean this—will hurt you, Bridget, because you did nothing wrong.”
My head pounded. Was he serious? “You’re not paying enough attention.”
“Tell me what I’m missing.” He stroked a finger down my nose, and because I couldn’t help myself, I buried my face on his uninjured shoulder.
“I destroyed him. Systematically. I can do that. That makes me just like him; you’ve got to realize that. Look what happened to everyone else.”
Michael ran a hand up and down my back. “You didn’t tell him to sell Layla to Allard. You didn’t tell him to get so involved with the Russians, they would put prices on your heads. And everything you did, you did to stop him from hurting anyone else. You saw it as a way to protect strangers. Strangers, who, just so you know, were bad people. The Russian Bratva is famous for killing each other. I can’t say definitively, but I doubt the money was used for anything that hurt civilians, so to speak. They kill each other. You didn’t tell them what to do with that money, anyway, although I hate to agree with your father. You’re not nefarious. Or bad. You’re good. You’ve spent the last year raising money for a guy who invests in alternative fuel to help battle climate change.”
How did he know about that?Oh, that was right. He was Michael.
“I’m so tired,” I admitted, nuzzling into his warmth.
He squeezed me tighter. “I know. I get it now. I’ve got you.”
10
Iwished I could believe him. It wasn’t that I doubted him, but it really couldn’t be true. Could it? How could he continue to look at me the way he was after he knew? “Michael,” I took a deep breath. “I’m terrified you’re going to wake up tomorrow and sayfuck, Bridget is just too much. This whole thing is too much.”
He shook his head. “How about this instead? Bridget, I solve problems. I keep people safe. I can fix this.Wecan fix this, and then you can start working on letting go of guilt that belongs to other people. If you need to make amends to strangers, since that seems to be a thing your sisters are into, we can work on figuring out how to do that anonymously, too.”
“Yes.” I sat up a bit, excited by the prospect. “I would love that. It would really make me happy.”
“Good. Then we’ll start there. Give it to me, okay? Hand it to me, and I’ll shoulder it until we can deal with it. Stop lugging this around alone.”
It was like my whole body sagged against him. I couldn’t stay upright anymore.
He continued, “Lay down right here. Close your eyes. This is going to be okay.”
I didn’t know where he indicated, since my eyes were closed, but I hoped it was okay that I crawled onto his lap and tucked in close to his body.
I fell asleep on his lap but I woke up on his bed. Darkness cloaked the room, but Michael lay next to me, on his side, facing me. His eyes were closed, and he was shirtless, wearing gray pajama pants, based on the leg that escaped the covers. He hadn’t even seen his physical therapist yet, but he was already sleeping on his side. He carried me around. The man was nuts, but it was because he was such a caregiver, even though he might not like the description.
Fuck.I always wanted him, even when it was absolutely not appropriate to do so. He was beautiful and such a silent sleeper. My nipples hardened as I looked at him and listened to his steady breaths. I wanted him with a need that pulsed through my body like a current. He obviously felt the same way about me. We might have a lot to work out, but why was I denying us what we both wanted? He carried me around and told me to let him worry about his pain. Could I do that?
Right then, I decided that I could.
I scooted closer to him and gave in to the need to stroke his face. I ran my finger down his nose and across his cheeks, listening for his breathing change as he woke from my ministrations. I kissed him then, knowing he was awake enough to stop me if he wanted. Obviously he didn’t, because his lips answered mine and then some. His arms came around me and tugged me even closer to him, kissing me back roughly. The covers went flying off the bed as our bodies tangled, still dressed but clinging to each other like we were already naked.
Right away, I could tell being with Michael would be different than anything else I experienced before. I hated sex, and I mightthis time, too, but it was starting out so much better than ever in the past. I wanted Michael with my every pore—I wanted to smell him and taste him and touch him all over. The simplest scrape of his skin against mine caused little licks of pleasure, each adding heat until I felt I might burn in the inferno.
He moved fast and I didn’t see it coming. On his knees and on top of me in an instant, he pulled my pants from my body. When he brought me into the bedroom, he must have removed my shoes. Otherwise, I wore my clothes from the day. My pants came off first followed immediately by my panties, leaving me bare to him.
It dawned on me, rather a bit too late in the process, how I could have probably prepared for the moment a bit. In the course of normal preparation, I would’ve waxed or something, but as he looked at me, he didn’t really seem to care. If this became a regular thing, I’d try to groom a bit.
“Michael,” I said, wondering if I should say anything on the subject.
