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So soft. So feminine. So utterly different from him.
“And when things don’t go according to plan you get completely surly.”
“I cannot deny it. But then, in my defense, in my adult years very little has gone against my plan, and I’m out of practice in dealing with improvising.”
“Nothing would dare go against you normally...you’re far too scary.”
“Scary?” He found the descriptor odd. More than that, he didn’t like it. It made him remember things that were best left buried.
He didn’t go out of his way to be scary. Neither was he particularly fun, and he knew that. But the things in life that so many people seemed to find fun had a dark underbelly that he’d spent his early years trapped beneath.
If a rich guy wanted to go and get high at a party, the drug had to come from somewhere. If someone wanted to pay for a little sex, or watch a graphic video, those women, those men had to come from somewhere.
He had seen those people. Their pain. Worse, he had been a part of it. He had caused it.
A mansion had to be paid for. The money had to come from somewhere.
As a boy he hadn’t known that. He’d wandered around that mansion, unsupervised, and had taken all that was on offer. Whatever food was in the kitchen. Whatever substance was left unlocked.
And later, whatever woman was available.
But then he had learned that for every bit of fun there was a price. All that glittered was dark and tarnished beneath.
He knew.
Other people might be able to stick their head in the sand and pretend it wasn’t true. They might be able to indulge themselves in the meaningless things in life, spending money, worthless paper, on what had cost others their souls.
But he couldn’t do it. And yes, that made him a bit un-fun. But the alternative was depravity. And he had run from that. Had run away at sixteen, had changed his name, had changed islands.
“You’re a bit severe,” she said.
“I’m practical, which I realize is difficult to take for some people. People who lead with emotions rather than with logic.”
“Logic doesn’t explain everything. It doesn’t have all the answers,” she said, bending down and picking up another piece of licorice from the coffee table, lifting it to her lips. “Candy isn’t logical. It’s not very good for you. It can rot your teeth. But we like it.” She took a bite and smiled.
If anyone made him want to forget the rot and taste the sweet, it was her.
The realization jolted him.
“Because people are stupid,” he bit out. “And again that’s feeling and not logic. You like candy so even though it’s bad for you and contributes nothing to your life, you eat it.”
“I don’t just eat it, I sell it. I create it.”
“So, your entire life’s work is based around something wholly unnecessary.”
“But something people like, Ajax. I make people happy.”
“And give them cavities.”
She laughed. He’d always liked the sound of her laugh. It wasn’t genteel or restrained. It was just...feeling. Funny how, though he stripped down his feelings to the bare essentials, he’d always enjoyed watching hers.
Because she’d never had them stolen. Because she didn’t know about all the horrors in life.
A woman like Leah didn’t need to know.
A strange surge of protectiveness ran through him. The urge to protect her from that darkness, and from anything that had touched it was so strong he nearly doubled over with it. The urge to protect her from himself.
But that was an impossibility. She was his wife. He was her husband. He would touch her with his hands, and it would spread to her....
And they had to go to New York.
“Scary or not,” he said, “you are coming to the States with me.”
She shrugged. “Great. It is great, actually. Most of my things are there and all. And I need to pay a visit to the shop there. I like to frequent the stores. Especially the big ones.”
“A working trip for both of us.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes rising to meet his, as if she was trying to read his thoughts.
“What?” he asked.
“What what?”
“You are concentrating so hard I can hear you thinking.”
“I’m thinking about last night.” She took another bite of licorice.
“What about it?”
“That scintillating conversation with those two businessmen. Except no, not that. Our kiss.”
The thought of it sent a rash of heat across his skin. He would have to stop and examine that later. How that could happen when the temperature in the room was constant. How he could feel that without giving himself permission?
