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“Fuck, he said you’d pull this shit.”
“Please, Ryan,” I purr as sweetly as I can.
“You realise what you’re asking me to do?” Narrowed gaze on me, he leans closer.
Holding myself steady, I draw back a tad. Enough that he takes pause. My heart still races at our proximity. The way his hand ghosts over my thigh. So warm that it makes the absence of any closeness and heat pronounced.
“Casper told me to protect you, not feed you to the wolves.”
I sit straighter so that our faces are close enough that I can feel his warm breath on my cheeks.
“He’s not here though, is he?” The words are agony even as I try to maintain a calm demeanour.
He’s doing that lip biting thing again. Maybe it’s our closeness. I don’t know.
“I’m sorry, Fleur. I’m not taking another risk like that.”
“I’m not Arabella.”
“No, you’re not.”
“And I’m far enough along that…”
“No.”
“Ryan…”
“No.” He pulls away just as heavy drops of rain start to fall from the bright blue sky.
Standing, he takes me up with him, pulling the denim jacket he lent me closed.
“If I can help them with whatever they think they know about what’s in my mum’s ledgers…”
His large hands cup my face harshly, leaning down he says, “No. End of conversation.”
I hold on to his arms as he draws me higher. “Please.”
“Do you know what happens when you fuck with well-laid plans?” When I don’t reply, he continues. “People get hurt. People die. Good people. Innocent people. Babies. It’s not happening again.”
Without another word he takes my hand and walks me back in silence.
Lucian looks between Ryan and me at dinner. The day got dark when the rain started to hammer down, and it feels a lot later than it is. It’s awkwardly quiet between the three of us, probably because Ryan’s told Lucian about our conversation. From the way he’s looking at me…
“Are you going to eat any of your food?” he asks.
“I’m not really hungry.”
Looking down at my plate, he shakes his head. “You need to eat.”
“Yes, I’m aware, but I already feel like I’m going to burst.”
“I can remember that feeling,” Beatriz chuckles, pressing her napkin to her lips even though there isn’t a single crumb on them.
“I had to force you to eat.” Filipe looks up at her from across the table.
Every time I see him, my gut churns with how much he reminds me of Casper. His laugh and his voice both have that deep gravel that makes butterflies flutter in my stomach. My longing flames inside me beyond control.
“Mercia was terrible. When she was pregnant with Casper, she couldn’t eat at first. Benedict was always so worried. Arabella was easy, but Georgina? She was the worst.” Beatriz stands and goes to the wet bar by the dining room door.
