Chapter Ten

Diana

Numbness sets into my fingertips and toes as Ari pulls into the parking lot of the hotel. I register a tall, dark building, the front comprised almost entirely of glass. But it’s hard to focus on anything but the cold sluicing through my veins.

“Stay put.”

I want to argue. Should put up a fight. But I simply sit there, slowly morphing into an icicle, as Ari gets out and circles around to my side.

“Why aren’t you affected?” I asked as he unbuckles my seatbelt and pulls me into his arms once more.

“I only got wet up to my waist. You got drenched trying to help Kacey up.” He glares down at my coat. “And you’re wearing fleece. My coat’s wool.”

“Lesson learned,” I murmur. “Never buy fleece before running into the ocean in winter.”

His chuckle vibrates against me, invites me to lay my head on his shoulder and breathe in. His warm scent soothes me. I close my eyes as my trembling lessens.

“I’m not shivering as hard.”

“I noticed.”

His voice is grim as he walks into the hotel. Someone greets him in Icelandic, although I can tell by their tone they’re concerned. I keep my eyes closed as Ari carries me a short distance. The swish of elevator doors opening and closing is followed by a short ride up. I open my eyes as he walks down a hallway, realizing he’s following a young man. The man stops in front of a door at the end of the hall and opens it. He looks at me, eyes wide, before turning to Ari and saying something else. Ari replies tersely before nodding and walking in, kicking the door shut behind him.

Larger than the average European hotel room. Open and airy with a huge window dominating one wall and dark furniture. The details rush by as Ari crosses the room in just a few strides and walks into the bathroom.

“Can you stand?”

I nod. He sets me on my feet, keeping one hand at my waist and the other at my shoulder.

“You need to get out of your wet clothes and into a shower.” He slowly releases me, then moves over to the marble-and-glass shower to turn the water on. “Start lukewarm. Do not turn it to hot. You need to warm up slowly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m serious, Diana.”

The underlying worry in his voice has me biting back my retort. I nod again and reach back for my zipper. My fingers grasp the metal, then lose it. I try several times, my heart thudding harder against my ribs every time I miss.

My hand shoots out, my fingers splaying across the countertop. I know what I have to do. But God, I don’t want to.

“Ari.”

He knows. He’s been standing next to the shower, waiting for me to reach the conclusion he’d probably reached a while ago.

“I’m sorry, Diana.”

The compassion in his voice makes it worse. It would be so much easier if he was cold, disdainful.

“It’s okay.”

It’s not. But what other choice do I have? The dress feels like wet cement. My limbs are stiff, my movements sluggish. I can’t do this alone.

I feel the first tug. A moment later warm air touches my bare skin. He stops halfway down, tries to give me the gift of some anonymity.

“I need it all the way, Ari.” I clench my eyes shut so I can’t see his face in the mirror when he sees them for the first time. “I can’t…please.”

The dress parts down to my waist. His hands settle on my shoulders, warm and strong, as he pulls the wet fabric down my arms. I know what he’s seeing: three scars on my left side. Two stretch from just below my shoulder blade to my waist, the third shorter than the rest.

Maybe the cold has numbed my heart. Maybe my mind recognizes how dire the situation is and has accepted the inevitable. Or maybe I’ve just receded so deeply within myself I can’t feel anything. Just…numbness.

I exhale once my arms are free, a sharp, harsh sound partially muffled by the shower.

“I can get it from here.”

Ari’s hands fall away. I nearly sway back, feel a tendril of loss. I grit my teeth and shove it away.

“I’ll have the door cracked. There’s a robe on the hook behind it. Call if you need me.”

I wait a few moments before I open my eyes. The room is empty.

I manage to tug my bra over my head and shove my dress and underwear off. I step under the spray, sucking in a breath as the warm water hits my skin. Gradually, it sinks in, penetrates to the deepest layers of my body. I focus on that, the physical sensations, keeping the emotions trying to break through at bay.

Survival, I remind myself as I lather my hair with shampoo that smells like a pine forest. I did what I had to for survival. Nothing more.

Finally, I get out of the shower and grab the robe by the door. It’s white and fluffy, enveloping me in cloudy comfort as I step out of the bathroom.

The room is modern, with sleek black furniture and pale gray walls offset by accents like the teal pillows on the couch and crisp white sheets folded down on the massive bed. A kitchenette runs one length of the room, including a glass dining room table trimmed in black.

My jaw drops when I see the food laid out on top.

“How…?”

Ari is standing by the window. He’s wearing a robe just like mine, except his stops just below his knees, revealing strong, muscled calves.

“Mussel stew, rúgbrauð with butter and pickled herring, cod with root vegetables, and skyr with wild berries and honey.” He nods to a bottle in the middle of the table. “And Brennivín. Just a small amount,” he adds as he stalks past me toward the bathroom, “but it can help you relax.”

I stare at the table, barely register the door closing behind him as I take in the food.

The last time someone took care of me was eleven years ago. Eleven years ago this month, I realize as I cross to the table and pick up a thick slice of rye bread. It’s warm, like it just came out of the oven. I slather on butter and add a tiny slice of herring. One bite has me adding more, savoring the contrasting flavors as I wander over to the window.

He’s just being kind, I tell myself as I stare out over the darkening sea. He may loathe me on a personal level, but he doesn’t want me dead.

I repeat that, over and over, as I think back to that moment when the waves raced up the beach. When I realized the woman was falling. When I heard the fear in her scream. The same fear that churned through me as I ran into the water. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t tried and the worst had happened.

But God I was scared.

The shivering returns, slamming into me with such force I stumble back from the window and sink into a chair. The same sensation when I heard Lucy’s terrified barks that winter day when my world changed. When I rushed out and saw Dale standing over her in the backyard, belt in hand.

I drop my head, suck in deep breaths. I need to get a grip before Ari gets out of the shower. He’s already seen enough of me today, both literally and metaphorically. Part of that is my fault. I’m the one who opened up to him on the beach before everything went to hell.

And for what? To expose myself to further pain when my job is over and I fly back to New York? Even if I could somehow reconcile the whole sleeping-with-Liam’s-half brother, and even if Ari were the kind of man who would commit to a relationship, I won’t risk letting someone else into my life.

And that’s okay, I tell myself as I finally get my breathing under control.

“It’s okay,” I whisper out loud to the empty room.

Ari

I walk out of the bathroom, relieved to see Diana sitting at the table, ladling stew into two bowls. She glances at me, her face smooth, her hair hanging in wet ringlets over her shoulders.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

I approach her cautiously. Showing me her scars must have cost her. When I unzipped her dress, saw the three lashes down her back, it took every ounce of self-control not to demand the name of the bastard who had done this to her.

“What’s the name of the bread again?”

“Rúgbrauð.”

I sit and grab a slice for myself.

“It’s delicious. Everything is.” She gives me a small smile, a fake one that sends a spurt of anger through me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I wait until she places the bowl of stew in front of me before I speak.

“You shouldn’t have gone in.”

Her hand stills midair. Slowly, she sets her spoon back in her bowl and leans forward.

“You may be my temporary boss, Mr. Valdasson, but you will not tell me what to do in my personal life.”

I grit my teeth. “After everything that just happened, we’re back to Mr. Valdasson?”

“I made the right choice. Just as you did. And,” she adds with an icy brittleness that rivals the tone I wielded this morning in our meeting, “if you say one word about being stronger than me, I will dump this stew in your lap.”

Anger melds with relief. I want her righteous indignation, her outrage. Anything is better than that coldness driving a wedge between us. The coldness I’d been striving for all week, but now doesn’t matter. Not after almost losing her.

“It’s not that—”

“You saw my scars.”

I still. “Yes.”

“I’m here today because two people stepped in to stop what happened to me eleven years ago. They could have cowered or run away, but they didn’t.”

Realization hits. “Liam and Aislinn.”

Her eyes glint. She stops, looks down at the table for a moment. I can see her visibly tying the strained threads of her control back together, stitching them with careful precision before she speaks again.

“There have been times I didn’t do what I should have.” She looks at me then, her jaw tight, eyes flashing russet fire. “I vowed the day I got these scars I would never run again. When I was younger…sometimes a foster parent would be drunk or just in a bad mood and take it out on the nearest kid. Sometimes…” Her eyes dart to mine, then away. “Sometimes I hid.”

“How old were you? When you hid?”

She swallows. “The last time I remember was when I was twelve.”

I set my own spoon down carefully. “So, a child?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“You were a child, Diana. You don’t have to risk your life to do penance for your past.”

She pushes back from the table. “Don’t act like you know me.”

My own temper snaps as I watch her walk to the window, stare out over the darkening landscape as she turns her back to me.

“How can I?” I demand as I stand. “You keep yourself locked up so tight I only see the tiny bits you share because you feel like you have to.”

“I’ve shared more with you than anyone else in a very long time.”

“Including my brother?”

She whirls around, color high in her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t.” Months of suppressed fury roar to life. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to know you were in my brother’s bed after mine? To wonder what you’ve shared with him, what he knows that I don’t?”

Her hands ball into fists at her sides. “You didn’t even care that night! You acted like I was barely there.”

“What else was I supposed to do? No, tell me,” I order as she looks away. “Tell Liam how we spent the evening before he proposed? How would that have gone over?”

Her sigh is heavy. “I don’t know.”

I pause. If I had been in Liam’s shoes and had found out Diana had slept with someone the night before I’d proposed, I would have wanted to tear down the world.

“You don’t know?”

Her head jerks up. “He would have been upset, of course. I just… It’s not like we were together before that. So I’d like to think he’d understand, but…”

Her voice trails off as she runs a hand through her hair. Last night, she didn’t answer if she had ever been in love with Liam. And now she’s not even sure if Liam would have been upset by his fiancée being in another man’s bed the night before he proposed.

What the hell happened between the two of them?

“He’s still one of my best friends. I don’t want to lose that.” She scrubs a hand over her face. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don’t even know why we’re fighting. I’m not comparing what I’ve shared with you to what I’ve shared with others in my life. If you think what I’ve shared with you is worthless, you can—”

I close the distance between us and grab her shoulders. “Not worthless. Never worthless.”

She freezes. The fight leaves her eyes as she blinks at me as if she can’t process what I just said.

“I…”

She tilts her head up. The air between us thickens. Desire sets her eyes on fire as I give into my own and let my fingers trail up the column of her neck, the smoothness of her jaw, then slip into the damp silkiness of her hair.

I could have lost her today. Not just to another man, but permanently. My heart slams into my ribs at the thought.

“Diana.”

Her lips part. An invitation I take advantage of as my mouth comes down on hers. Demanding, starving for another taste of her. I should be gentle, seductive. But I can’t stop drinking her in, especially when she groans my name, her fingers clamping down on my arms with the same possessive ferocity burning me from the inside out.

I push her back against the glass. Pull back long enough to stare down at her. Eyes glazed, a flush in her cheeks the color of a rose. Beautiful, glorious color that could have easily been snuffed out today. I run my thumb along one cheekbone as the possibility shudders through me.

Her eyes soften. “Ari…” One hand comes up, rests on my face. “I’m all right.”

I kiss her again. My fingers tighten in her hair as I growl against her lips. She presses her hips against the hardness of my cock with a boldness that rocks my control. I wrench my lips away, only to swiftly lower my head and blaze a trail down the side of her neck.

I pull her tightly against me. One hand rests on her back. I still. She freezes in my arms, then plants both hands on my chest and shoves, backing up until she’s flush with the window.

I know what she’s thinking, can see it in the tortured desire in her eyes. When we made love in New York, all she told me was that she liked to keep her top on. It wasn’t my place to ask why, so I’d accepted it and what she had offered me.

But now, knowing what lies beneath the fabric, things between us have changed yet again.

“Concierge should be up in an hour with our clothes.”

She blinks at my change of subject. “Oh.”

“I also ordered pajamas from a local shop in Vík. The hotel will bring them up with our clothes.”

Her eyes widen in alarm. “Pajamas?”

“By the time our clothes are ready, it’ll be dark. Strong winds are forecast tonight. Not to mention,” I add as I walk back to the table, “we’re both exhausted. Rest would be best.”

Her gaze darts around. “Both of us? In here?”

“Yes. The rest of the hotel is booked.” I nod to the bed, try not to think about what the two of us could do with so much space. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“I can—”

“No.”

A frown crosses her face. “I’ve slept worse places than on a couch.”

“And tonight you don’t have to,” I reply calmly, even though the hint of what she endured in foster care is enough to reignite my anger. “You suffered more than I did out there. Take the bed, Diana.”

I look away, focus on the food in front of me. I need fuel, energy to keep me going for what I’m sure is going to be a very long night.

Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to sleep knowing Diana is just a few feet away.