Chapter Seven

Ari

Waiters dressed in white dress shirts and black vests, with ties, move in and out of the guests. The silver trays they balance host dishes like Icelandic lobster tucked into small shells and topped with crème fraîche and puff pastries filled with a mix of skyr, smoked trout, and chives. The buffet tables along the outer rim of the room offer heartier fare like grilled Arctic char with a skyr cream sauce, pan-seared Icelandic lamb with wild mushrooms, and sea scallops with beetroot purée. The bar includes mead, birch wine, and vodka, along with numerous other high-end wines and liqueurs from around the world.

I examine one of the frosted crystal vases filled with poppies, bluebells, and wild ferns on top of tables draped in white. Everywhere guests look, they see Iceland, from the locally sourced food and the musicians playing lilting tunes on the dais to the unique centerpieces designed by a florist in Bogarnes.

Perfect.

Every recommendation from Diana has been spot-on. Yet instead of thinking of the gala we’ve hosted for the past four years, of the client I’m trying to secure a very important contract with, I’m thinking of her.

I’ve been aware of her from the moment she walked in—wearing a stunning dress the color of mulled wine, the fabric clinging to the curves of her breasts, the nip of her waist, the flare of her hips, with an intimacy I envy. A cape drifts from the sleeves and back of the dress as she moves through the room with quiet grace. Her hair is partially pulled back from her face, leaving the elegant slashes of her cheekbones and the strong line of her jaw bare to anyone’s gaze, as loose curls tumble down her back. Tiny diamond studs glint at her ears, the only other jewelry she wears besides the silver bracelet with the tiny heart she’s never without.

It’s been two days. Two days since every twisted, ugly emotion that first rose up inside me in that damn restaurant New York reappeared as I overheard Diana tell my brother she loved him.

Fury. Outrage. Jealousy. Beneath those lurked confusion, pessimism. Liam had confirmed that he and Diana had broken off their engagement the last time we spoke. Yet the way she spoke, the familiarity and affection in her words, sounded more like a current lover than an ex-fiancée.

I want to hate her for the effect she has on me. For the need that nearly made me go back to the restaurant and demand answers. For that split second of pain, like someone had just clawed out the inside of my chest.

But hate is the reflection of love. Another investment of emotion. So instead I concentrated on work—not just contract negotiations, but on the everyday tasks that keep AuraGeothermal running. I arrived at seven in the morning and left at eight at night, responding to any emails she sent with brisk efficiency and conducting meetings with a degree of coolness to reinforce the professional boundaries between us. The punishing pace kept me focused, kept my thoughts off her and Liam and whatever relationship they still had.

My hands tighten into fists. I’ve only met him once, but I’ve imagined him for the past four years. Dreamed about who he could have been in the years before that, when I thought he died with my mother.

But now, every time I hear his name, all I can feel is anger. Resentment. Even the few conversations we attempted on the phone were brief, colored by the emotions seething in my chest whenever I thought of him with her.

I let my guard down the other night. And in less than two hours, I was given a stark reminder as to why Diana and I can never cross that line again. A woman I desire and despise in equal measure.

Love you, too.

I’ve never been in love. It works for some. I’ve never been interested. I loved my mother, and when she died, so did my capacity to allow that emotion into my life again. There are times I almost hate that she loved me so much, and I her, because the few times I allow myself to remember just how deeply she did, it fucking hurts.

Malla appears beside me.

“Everything seems to be going smoothly,” she says.

“It does.” I smile down at her. “Thank you. The event team did most of the work.”

She glances off to the side. “And Diana.”

My pulse kicks up a notch. “Diana?”

“She’s been a huge help. She drove up here early and helped us set up. Laid down tablecloths, put up centerpieces…” Malla grins up at me. “I’m really glad you brought her on. She’s nice.”

“She is.” My voice is flat.

“Is it hard?”

“What?”

“Just…working with your brother’s ex-fiancée.”

I arch one brow. “I didn’t realize that was public knowledge.”

She scoffs. “Everyone knows. But when you hired her, we figured it meant everything was okay.”

“It is,” I lie. “Whatever happened between Miss North and my brother does not impact her ability to serve as a negotiator and help finalize the contract with Hellas Shipping.”

“I’m glad. I really like her.”

I do, too.

I bite back the words.

Just then, a woman approaches. Vanessa, I remember. Vanessa Renfield. An American lawyer based in Paris, specializing in international finance. Smart, determined, confident. She’d suggested a fling when we’d met in Spain a few years back, but I’d already been in the middle of a casual affair. I have no interest in marriage or love, but I have a firm rule about monogamy. My father’s casual affairs drove my mother into the arms of another man. I won’t repeat his mistakes or cause the same pain he did.

“Miss Renfield,” I greet.

Her smile is dazzling. “You remembered.”

“Of course. The conference in Madrid.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” She gestures with a jewel-bedecked hand to the grand ballroom, the floor-to-ceiling windows offering unparalleled views of Iceland’s wildlands at night. “This is incredible.”

“I’m glad you could make it.”

She lowers her chin, gazes up at me from beneath thick lashes. A practiced move, one I would have noticed and followed up on three months ago with an invitation to dinner, then a room at one of Reykjavik’s luxurious hotels.

But now, all I can see are brown eyes, not green. Thick brown hair, not styled red curls.

Vanessa takes a bold step forward. “May I have this dance?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Malla grimace. I shoot my secretary a warning look before turning back to Vanessa. I have no intention of inviting her anywhere. I would never ask another woman out in the presence of a former lover. Even if Diana weren’t here, other than a casual appreciation for Vanessa’s physical beauty, there’s no spark of attraction.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t dance with a beautiful woman. Can’t welcome a few moments of distraction.

I incline my head and extend a hand to Vanessa. “Shall we?”

Diana

I glance, for what feels like the dozenth time, at the dance floor where Ari holds a stunning redhead in his arms. Her black gown follows the line of every sensual curve before flaring out at her knees into a fall of silk. She laughs up at Ari, confident in her body and her ability to attract, to seduce.

Judging by the way Ari is smiling down at her, the feeling is mutual. I turn my head away.

There’s nothing tying us together—nothing but one night, three months ago. I have no reason to be jealous. No reason to be hurt, especially when Ari thinks I betrayed both him and his brother. Yet, as I steal one more glance out of the corner of my eye, I can’t deny the pain that seeps through me like poison.

“Diana?”

I turn, forcing a smile when I realize it’s Malla. “Sorry. Busy night.”

She’s looking at me as if she suspects something, her gaze shifting between me and the couple on the dance floor. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.” I lay a hand on her shoulder. “A lot of work in a short time. Thank you, by the way, for making sure Mr. Valdasson practiced his speech.”

Malla’s expression brightens. “Of course. I think it went over amazingly.”

“It did.”

Ari had taken every single one of my suggestions, which I’d left in the typewritten report on his desk the night we had dinner, and turned them into a speech. He thanked Xenakis and Hellas Shipping for all their contributions so far, highlighted how much he was looking forward to their continued partnership, and touched on AuraGeothermal’s commitment to the family they’d built within their company, to their community, and to their homeland. I’d watched Xenakis and his team out of the corner of my eye, seen every point hit home.

Tonight was a giant leap forward.

So why, I thought with no small amount of self-loathing, couldn’t I just be happy with our accomplishments? Why did I have to be jealous of the smile Ari gave the redhead? Why did I have to feel sick to my stomach as her hand moved up his arm to his shoulder, the intimate way her fingers glided up the sleeve of his tuxedo?

“Diana?”

I looked down at Malla.

“Yes?”

“If there’s ever anything you need to talk about, I’m really good at listening.”

I almost say something. Almost take her up on her offer to be a listening ear, a supportive shoulder. I like her. Truly like her. But will she still like me if I tell her the truth? If I tell her everything that’s transpired over the past three months?

I think not.

“Thank you.” I give her a small smile. “I’m going up to the top deck. I could use some air.”

I don’t miss the hurt in her eyes. I hate myself even more when she returns my smile with one of her own.

“Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Before I can reply, Viktor approaches and asks her for a dance. Judging by the shy yet very bright smile Malla gives him, she won’t remember my refusal for long.

I slip out of the ballroom. A woven basket offers thick blankets and shawls. I grab one and wrap it around my shoulders. The deck just off the ballroom is crowded with people in tuxedos and elegant gowns. Waiters drift in and out, holding trays of champagne and appetizers. Fire pits and outdoor heaters battle back the cold.

I move past the crowd, heading for the stairs. Each step takes me farther away from the crowd and deeper into the cold.

The upper deck is simply designed, a slate gray stone floor with a glass railing and a couple of black chairs and benches for those who want to linger and take in the view. The posts in between the glass have circular lights built into the base. The dim lighting lets my eyes adjust to take in what little I can see of the borders of Þingvellir National Park. From what little I can see, it’s stunning. Craggy rocks, shaped by generations of volcanic activity. Deeper in the park are waterfalls, fissures, and even a lake with an underwater gorge running between tectonic plates.

Another place I want to come back to. If there’s time.

That sense of oddness, almost like an ache, returns at the thought of leaving Iceland. It’ll go away. My emotions are off. I’m reaching out, grasping on to the familiarity of nature to steady me as I grapple with a situation I never imagined possible.

With a man I never should have looked twice at.

I came out to the gala early, needing something to focus on besides my tumultuous evening with Ari. It’s been two days since he walked out. Two days of briefings in the morning, followed by detailed reports at the end of the day. Each meeting with him has been quick and frosty—a recitation of what I did that day as I reviewed contracts, met with members of the Hellas Shipping team, the AuraGeothermal board of directors. Business. What I do every day in my job.

Except each time I saw Ari, each time I talked with him, I saw the way he looked in the restaurant—the flash of pain before his emotions vanished behind a wall of ice.

I reach the top deck of the hotel. I look up, as has become my habit over the past few days. But once again, I’m thwarted by the clouds scuttling across the sky.

“Only forty percent of Icelandic tourists see the Northern Lights.”

My body tenses even as the warm huskiness of his voice flows over me.

“Maybe I was just looking at the clouds.”

There’s silence behind me, then a slight, barely audible chuckle.

“Iceland has plenty to offer.”

My heart twists. I missed that, the casual camaraderie we had started to develop. The easy way I can just…talk to him. Not watch everything I say. Similar to the ease of my relationship with Liam and Aislinn.

I’ve never felt that way about anyone else. Not even Brian. The harder he pushed, the more I resisted. Not once did I feel the instant ease I experienced with Ari, that snap of connection.

And look what happened.

I turn. Ari is standing at the top of the stairs, looking impossibly handsome in his black tuxedo. The material molds perfectly to his broad shoulders, trim waist, and muscular thighs. I can think of a dozen men who would look ridiculous in a bow tie, but Ari commands it, every inch the leader he is.

“It was a good speech,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral.

He tucks his hands into his pockets and wanders toward me. “I’m glad my negotiator approved. Xenakis seemed to approve, too. And given that he’s had at least two shots of Brennivin, I’m not surprised.”

I bite back a smile. “I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth on this one.”

He walks toward me, slow, measured steps that make my heart race.

“You left.”

My breath hitches in my throat. “I just needed some fresh air.”

“Did you?”

He’s staring at me, demanding answers when I have none to give.

I hesitate. I want nothing more than to go to him, to reach out and touch him. But it would be the stupidest thing I could do. Not just for my professional career, not for the goals he set for his company, but for us. We’re both damaged people, hurting, burdened by guilt for the one thing we have in common: Liam.

“Go back to the party, Mr. Valdasson.”

“What about you?”

I tilt my head to one side. “What about me?”

“It’s freezing.”

“Are you always this observant?”

He swears. “Why did you leave the ballroom?”

I think of the redhead. Try not to let my jealousy show. “I told you, I needed some air. It’s been a long day.”

“Really?” He walks toward me, slowly, eyes glittering in the dim lighting. “Because I saw the way you looked at Vanessa and me.”

“It’s none of my concern.”

I repeat his words from the other night. Tell myself they’re true even as I ache inside.

“Dance with me.”

My mouth drops open. “What?”

He holds out a hand. “Dance with me.”

Stupid. I stare at his hand, try to stifle the want that surges inside me. It would be so stupid to dance with him.

My heart takes hold of my body before my brain can catch up. I place my hand in his. His fingers close over mine and he pulls me closer. My breath catches as one arm wraps around my waist, his hand splaying across my back. We move across the terrace with slow, lazy movements. A gentle wind makes the gauzy cape of my dress dance behind me. Ari stares down at me, eyes searching, probing.

Heat suffuses my body. I pause, drape the shawl over a chair as we spin past. Cold air kisses my bare shoulders, but I barely register it.

“Vanessa is a lawyer.”

My mind blanks for a moment. “Vanessa?”

“The redhead.”

I look down, hope he doesn’t see my petty jealousy. “She’s beautiful.”

“She’s not a lover.”

I hate the flicker of relief in my chest. “It’s not—”

“No, it’s not any of your concern. I thought about not saying anything when I saw you leave the ballroom.” His fingers tighten on mine. “But then I decided to give you the answers I’ve wanted for the past three months.”

I press my lips together, look away.

“Ari—”

Imagine,” he continues as he draws me closer, hard muscle beneath the silk of his tuxedo, “how I’ve felt, Diana. Three months. Three months of trying to distance myself from the thought of you, the feel of you, because every thought is a betrayal to my brother. The one I searched for four years after thinking him dead for most of my life.”

My eyes widen. “Dead?”

He cocks his head to one side. “Liam didn’t tell you?”

“No. No, we… A friend of ours was going through a rough patch at the time. He told me a couple days before you and I met that you had contacted him. That you were going to have dinner.”

“Our mother had an affair. Given that my father had half a dozen in the years prior to when she fell pregnant, I’d say she was justified.” The fury in his tone evaporates as a shadow passes over his face. “She died giving birth to Liam. My father told me Liam died with my mother.”

Oh God.

“How did you even find out he existed?”

“I came across documents about Liam’s birth during the takeover. Papers with my father’s signature approving Liam being sent to America to be adopted. He could have cared less if she had her own affairs. But he took her getting pregnant with someone else’s baby as an insult.” He glances over my shoulder, out into the darkness. “Even then, there was barely anything to go on. No adoption agency, no record of what name he was given.”

“And then he registered for the ancestry website,” I murmur.

Ten months ago. The last night I remember Liam, Aislinn, and I together before Aislinn started to slip away. Aislinn had suggested doing the DNA kit. Liam and I had gone along with it because it had been important to her. We gathered at my apartment, completed the swabs, and mailed in our samples. We went out afterward and got a round of drinks to celebrate.

One step forward. Aislinn had laughed as she’d raised her glass of champagne in a toast.

We’d been so happy that night. None of us could have imagined the falls awaiting us.

“I’m sorry, Ari.”

His gaze snaps back to me. “Sorry?”

I raise my chin. “Yes.”

“Tilgangslaust.”

My jaw clenches. “I don’t know Icelandic, but I gather that wasn’t complimentary.”

“Meaningless.” The word slices through me. “My brother lost his birth family, then his adoptive family, and spent years in foster care when he should have had the stability and luxury I grew up in.”

Beneath the anger vibrating in his voice, I hear the guilt. The ache.

“And then, just when I have the chance to make things right, you walk in the door holding his hand. Less than a day,” he adds cuttingly, “after leaving my bed. I have never once swayed from doing what needed to be done. But you, Diana, put me in a position where I had to choose between telling my brother that his fiancée had been naked beneath me the night before or letting him enjoy his happiness.”

My heart breaks. I should have told Liam. But I took the coward’s way out, let fear make my choices for me.

“I’m not—”

“And then I overhear you say ‘I love you’ to him. You told me things were over.” His hand tightens around mine. “Are you toying with him?”

“No!” I pause, glance around to make sure we’re still alone. “I told you, Liam and I have been friends for years. We’ve said ‘I love you’ since…”

My voice trails off. A hospital. Machines beeping. The pain thankfully faint under the power of medication. Aislinn sitting in a chair on one side of the bed. Liam on the other. Both holding my hands.

We love you, Diana. We’re not going anywhere.

I believed them. And now, for whatever reason, Aislinn is gone. What if Liam disappears when I tell him the truth?

My gaze flickers to Ari. I know he won’t be around. He despises me. But for one moment, I let myself feel the ache that rooted itself inside my heart the morning I woke up wrapped in his arms. The first time I ever truly longed for something more with a man.

“Since when?” Ari demands.

I blink, refocus “Years. Well before our engagement, and we’ll probably keep saying it until we’re dead. I love him. But I’m not in love with him.”

I never was, I want to scream.

“Yet you were at one point.” Ari presses forward, relentless and determined. “You said yes to his proposal. You wore his ring.”

“I did.” My reply is weary, my entire body exhausted.

Ari’s eyes narrow. “You said yes and you wore the ring. But you were never in love with him, were you?”

Damn it. I walked straight into that. If Ari detects any inconsistencies, I have no doubt he’ll investigate until every secret is laid bare.

I start to pull away. Ari’s hand comes up, past the edge of fabric and onto my bare back. His fingers graze the tops of my scars.

I freeze. Shock tethers me to the ground as my breath hitches in my throat. A prickling sensation creeps up my back. A prickling that flares into fire. I can feel it, feel the belt.

“Diana?”

His voice sounds far away, like he’s talking underwater. I pull back and this time he lets me. I reach out, grab the railing. A shudder passes through me as I fight back against the memories, tell myself the pain isn’t real. But my own words are drowned out by the phantoms of my past. Lucy’s frantic barking. Dale’s angry shouts. Adrenaline pumping through me, propelling me across the yard. I tense, readying for it. The first snap of the leather right before the pain. I flinch once. Twice. Three times.

“Diana!”

Ari’s voice breaks through. My breathing is fast, hard. Slowly, I manage to get it back under control, to push away the nightmares and ground myself in the present.

I force myself to look at Ari. He’s staring at me, hands curled at his sides, his jaw tight. There’s shock in his eyes. Shock and anger.

He knows. Through my receding panic, I can see him connect the dots. That, more than the memories, strips me bare. Leaves me raw and vulnerable.

I did this. I let him get close. Opened the door that night in New York when I let my guard down and shared parts of myself I’ve never shared with anyone. Not Liam and Aislinn, not former lovers.

And now we’ve slid even deeper. It doesn’t matter if Ari never asks, if I never tell him. He knows the scars are there.

I’ll be furious with myself later. Use this to maintain the distance I should have been maintaining all this time. But for now, I wrap numbness around me like a shield.

“I’m fine.” I force myself to walk calmly to the chair where I left the shawl. Wrap it around my shoulders. “It just…” I clear my throat. “An old injury.”

He’s still angry. But his eyes soften a fraction. It’s enough to have me wanting to lean into him, to share even more.

And therein lies the danger. The more I share, the more I fall. The deeper I fall, the harder it will be to pull myself out of the darkness when he leaves.

Sooner or later, they all leave.

“Diana—”

“I’m going back inside.”

He doesn’t follow me as I walk away.