How do you know Mr Lorenti?’
Baz’s fingers paused on Ellie’s hair at her murmured question. Damn, when had he let that slip?
He glanced down at her earnest face, her skin flushed from their last bout of lovemaking. It had to be past midnight, and they were both naked, lying tangled in the sheets, exhausted. They’d made love so many times—in the shower, against the vanity, on the bed. He’d explored every inch of her body, revelling in her eager and artless responses. They’d even run out of condoms, so he’d had to use withdrawal that last time, which had nearly killed him.
Why was he so addicted to her? And why was she the first woman he’d ever been with who saw the real Brody, but he still wanted her anyway? Was it because she had always known who he really was… Or had been, he corrected swiftly.
No wonder he felt so exposed. And needy.
‘Just through business,’ he said, forced to give her that much.
She propped her elbows on his chest, and smiled at him—the sweet, enthusiastic, uncomplicated smile that made his chest hurt.
‘What business are you in?’ she asked, the approval in her eyes crucifying him.
‘Investments,’ he said, being deliberately vague. ‘Lorenti’s an astute businessman. Our paths have crossed a few times.’
She drew a circle in his chest hair, sending a ripple of heat to his crotch.
But he could see the naked hope in her gaze—for him to contradict her—when she asked, ‘Do you really think he doesn’t love Tali?’
Yeah, the guy has to have an angle. Just like me.
It’s what he should have said, but her blind faith that Lorenti’s motives were pure—and that he’d never had an agenda himself by coming here and seducing her—made his usual cynicism desert him.
‘I don’t know Lorenti that well,’ he said. ‘He’s above my pay grade,’ he added, but the deliberate lie tasted bitter on his tongue.
‘Ditto…’ she said drowsily, then broke into a huge yawn.
‘Go to sleep, you’re shattered.’ He tucked her head onto his shoulder, ignoring the renewed pulse of longing… Her faith in him was even more disturbing than the heat that wouldn’t die.
The ugly truth settled on his chest like a boulder as her lush body relaxed into sleep.
He wasn’t going to make a bid on the house, even though, from the little he’d seen, Westwick Hall would be a great investment. How could he, when he could never return? Not after tonight.
He remained awake for hours, his heart ticking like an unexploded bomb. Wanting to stay here with her, even though he knew he had to leave before she woke up…and things got too complicated.
As dawn shimmered on the horizon, he made himself let her go—and tugged on his clothing in the half-light. He slipped out of the room, ignoring the brutal ache in his ribs.
He’d made no promises to her, nor would he, because he needed to keep that boy buried deep.
He pushed the bike as far as the road, then climbed aboard and sped towards the local airfield, where his company chopper was fuelled and waiting to take him back to Heathrow. And from there, his private jet would fly him to Manhattan.
Maybe he’d once wished for someone to want him for who he really was. But Baz Brody had died the night Ellie had saved him from himself…
And nobody got to resurrect that needy little bastard—because he’d killed him for a reason. Not even her.
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