Burned Deep (25 page)

I said, “This is exactly the sort of place I've dreamed of. But creekside property for sale is rare in this village—and when it does appear on the market, the prices are astronomical.”

“I bought this house last year through a private sale,” he said. “I had Sotheby's contact the owners. Made them an offer they couldn't refuse.”

“Why am I not surprised? I suspect you make those offers frequently.”

He didn't bother to respond.

There was a low flame in the hearth and more candles lit all around the room, casting shadows in the corners and flickering illumination across the stone floor. It was every bit the darkly alluring fairy tale I'd had no idea I believed in. As I surveyed the expensive-looking vases and artwork, I noted there wasn't a single framed photo of Dane—or of anyone, for that matter.

“Not big on selfies?” I quipped.

“I'm not one to collect mementos like that. They're mostly all committed to memory.”

I couldn't argue the point without being a hypocrite. I'd never been the sentimental type myself.

My fingers brushed over a lovely glass pitcher. Then I stood before an artistically crafted table that not only fit the eclectic array of furniture and knickknacks but also stole my breath.

“This is so pretty,” I said of the Parisian bistro set.

“It's new. Well,” he amended, “new for me. It's from Napoleon's Fontainebleau palace. The collection was recently at auction—Marie Antoinette had tea at that table.”

“Incredible.”

He joined me, setting a delicate-looking box on top of the marble surface. “I also picked this up in Paris. For you.”

My heart fluttered. “That wasn't necessary.”

“I figured you'd say that. So consider it a gift for me, if you want.”

His intimate tone seeped through my veins, making me sigh. I pulled the white satin bow and swept the ribbon away. Then I lifted the dove-colored lid and brushed aside the sparkling silver tissue paper.

My fingertips grazed over sensuous deep-gray satin and exquisite crystals and Tahitian pearls.

“I like the Gretzky tee on you, but this reminded me of the first time we met—your blouse and necklace.” His warm breath teased the shell of my ear as he stood partially behind me. Heat flared low in my belly.

He lifted the full-length nightgown from the box. Still buried in tissue was a matching robe.

Handing it over, Dane said, “Why don't you change? Get more comfortable? Take those shoes off. The stone is heated.”

I shook my head. “You're really too much. You know that, right?”

“Tell me you like it.”

“You already know I like it.”

“Everything,” he insisted.

“Yes. Everything.”

I held the garment to my body, the silky material caressing my skin. It felt heavenly—smelled that way, too. Like lilacs in the spring.

He gestured toward a twelve-foot-tall door alongside the fireplace. I grabbed my tote from the pewter-colored chair he'd set it in and closed the door behind me.

I stared into the mirror for Lord only knew how long. I employed deep-breathing exercises. I tried not to freak out because that I was going to be wearing this incredibly gorgeous gown for, like, minutes, I was sure. And then …

Calm down.

I willed it.

Chill out.

I set aside the endless flow of satin and slipped out of my red dress.

The nightgown was rich and sensuous and slightly cool against my flushed skin. It skimmed over my breasts, my stomach, my hips. Fell to the floor to swirl around my ankles and bare feet. I studied myself in the mirror again, wondering whether to leave my hair loosely up or around my shoulders. I decided to pull out the pins. The fat chocolate-colored curls tumbled down my back. The nightgown dipped to my tailbone. My hair fell about midway.

I wiped off the crimson lipstick I wore with a Kleenex and used a glossy balm instead. My fingers shook slightly as I packed up. Leaving my tote on the counter, I left the bathroom. Dane was setting out salads at one of the larger tables. I crossed the cavernous room and joined him.

He swept his fingers through my hair and his thumb whisked over my jaw.

“You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

My breath hitched. How could he possibly say that?

“I'm sure Jennifer Aniston proves otherwise.”

“No.” His head dipped and he kissed me. All slow and provocative, as was his way when he warmed me up. “I'm completely hooked on you, baby.”

I stared up at him. “Then tell me what's really happening at the Lux.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment. Then he stepped around me and pulled out my chair. I sat and stressed over whether I'd pushed a bit too hard.

Dane poured a fragrant pinot grigio and sat across from me. I picked at my salad, everything about it tempting, but my stomach coiled. I set aside my fork.

With a low grunt, he took a sip of wine and then got down to it. “I had an original investment team for 10,000 Lux. Nine of us. Colleagues I trusted.” He stabbed a prawn, sliced into it, and chewed. Aggressively. Then he added, “Things changed with five of them. I learned more about their business practices—their financial scheming—and I had to cut them out. I didn't want them associated with the Lux.”

“Wow.”

This was a mega-resort we were talking about. The sort of aspiration that meant every single thing about it had to be perfect because the investment was much too big, much too risky. A Jenga puzzle where pulling the wrong piece could make the entire empire crash to the ground.”

“Corrupt?” I ventured hesitantly.

“Yes,” Dane said in a terse tone. I felt his jagged edge of torment over trusting someone who betrayed him, and possibly the bitter need for revenge.

“Dane…”

“It's these unexpected glitches that are proof they're fucking with me, Ari.”

“A beaver chomping through—”

“There were no beavers.” Dry lightning flashed against the large windows, emphasizing his words. “I lied. To protect you. I don't want you to know about all of this. I don't want you in a position where you're aware of things I'm involved in that could put you in a dangerous situation.”

“I'm already in one, Dane. What
we're
doing is dangerous. To me, at least.”

“No,” he insisted. “You think being romantically involved is hazardous and that's not true. But these men are.”

“Have you ever had the rug pulled out from beneath you?” I demanded. “Have you ever even been in love?”

“No,” he said, a bit contrite.

“It can tear you apart,” I told him. “I've seen it happen.”

“But it's never happened to you,” he countered.

“I saw the destruction. The devastation. With my parents.” My heart twisted. “And I was a pawn. My mother used me. I believed she loved me. I thought—”

I pushed back my chair and stood. I paced alongside the windows as a breeze rustled the trees.

“I thought the same thing every child thinks when it comes to their parents,” I said. “That they both loved me. They both wanted me. That they'd fight to the death for me—proverbially speaking, of course. But no.”

He stood as well. Stuffed his hands into the pockets of the loose black pants he wore with a white-linen buttoned shirt. His feet were also bare. The casual look was a sexy one on him.

I told him, “My dad was one-hundred percent into the family unit and all he cared about was keeping me out of her clutches. Because he knew what she really wanted. He refused to tell me,
for my own protection
—ironically enough—that all my mother cared about was money.”

That was obviously still the case.

In a grave voice, Dane said, “Then you understand why it's important for
me
to protect you.”

I debated sharing my mother's attempt to extort money—hardly a mere
attempt
, since she'd already cashed one check written by me—but decided it was best to deal with this situation on my own.

“That's not your job.”

“Yes,” he protested vehemently, “it
is.
”

I walked away. Stood in front of tall glass doors.

His big career ambition was being sabotaged. That would have been beyond my comprehension were I not suddenly being blackmailed by my own parent.

Dane felt something so strongly for me that he wanted to shelter me from
everything.

But that was impossible. And again … not his job. I'd always taken care of myself and would continue to do so.

He was persistent, though. His fingers brushed my hair over one shoulder. Then the tips grazed slowly down my bare spine. Flame after flame ignited against my vertebrae.

“You have to accept that I wanted you in my life, I pulled you in, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you. And to keep you safe.”

Everything about that delicious statement sent a tremor through me, yet I asked, “That means hiding things, whatever's happening at the Lux?”

“I consider it more … selective sharing.”

With a shake of my head, I said, “That's not fair. Nor is it what I want.”

He let out a long breath that teased my skin. Then he took my hand. “Fine.” He led me back to the table.

We sat and I picked at my salad.

Dane didn't seem particularly pleased with this change in direction but told me, “I graduated high school when I was seventeen and went to Harvard. When I was nineteen, I had Ethan as a professor and he mentored me, in a way. We became business partners on a few smaller projects. Then I built a boutique hotel at Lake Tahoe.”

“I read that on the Internet. And, by the way, I still want to know how you've so carefully contained information about yourself and your family. There are hardly any pictures, too. I'm literally shocked you're not a billionaire playboy whose mug graces every society page in the world.”

“You really take me for the playboy type?”

I studied him for a moment. I wanted to ask,
How would I know the difference?
since he was so secretive. But I did have enough to go on, from a personal point of view, to be able to draw a few conclusions. His intensity alone negated any sort of carefree existence.

“Okay, you have me there,” I admitted. “But still—”

“Donations,” he offered. “That's how I do it. I have someone on my staff who monitors everything posted about me, and I can have it removed by throwing money at it. Mostly sizable contributions, but well worth the investment.”

“Why?” I asked, distressingly fascinated and alarmed at the same time. “Why's it so important to only have content
you
want posted?”

The grim look returned. “My privacy is crucial, Ari. You just have to understand that it is.”

More secrets. I went back to my salad, agitated. Yet trying to reconcile who he was and what he was up to.

Finally, I posed different questions. “If you think you know who's causing problems at the resort, why can't you stop them? I mean, you're capable of controlling every other facet of your life. Who are these people that they're powerful enough to pull off this mayhem that trips you up? And, for that matter, why are they concentrating on ‘tedious' mishaps? Granted, the security-wiring snafu is a larger hindrance, but something like furniture being sent to the wrong continent is really a minor setback when you can just reorder the pieces.”

He grimaced, almost painfully it seemed. “I appreciate your train of thought. You're very intuitive. First, with regard to the Lux, it's not exactly a simple matter of calling up a few companies and asking them to reship our goods. Those pieces were specially crafted. Second, the wires were clipped in various places, strategically so, leaving me no choice but to rewire the entire perimeter. I had originally wanted a more sophisticated Wi-Fi–type electronic monitoring system, but with the sketchy signals in these canyons, I couldn't rely on it. I had to go old-school. Well, relatively speaking. It's a hugely expensive system.”

“Oh.” I pushed aside my plate, losing my appetite. “So when you said ‘tedious,' you really meant fairly monumental and costly.”

“Yes.”

I reached for my wine and sipped. “You didn't tell me why you can't put a stop to it all.”

His teeth ground together in frustration. Then, “I'm not sure exactly who's behind this. I have my suspicions, but nothing concrete. And those I do believe are involved are extremely prominent people, Ari. As you've surmised. Not ones to mess with arbitrarily, without a solid plan. This all started happening just a couple of months ago and I'm … struggling … to find my course of action. Trust me when I say, these aren't people you want to poke with a stick. Unless you know you have the bigger stick.”

But they
were
fucking with him—I couldn't help but think about the media room fire—and I could clearly see that tore at him. Dane Bax did not strike me as the type of man who let anyone screw with him, let alone destroy something that meant so much.

An insidious shiver made me squirm in my seat.

He was definitely mixed up in something shady. Something volatile.

I didn't do shady and volatile.

So why was I still here?

I drained my glass and tried to calm my tormented insides. Why was I so wrapped up with this man that I couldn't see the trouble for what it was and walk away?

He said, “You can understand now why I wanted to keep you out of this?”

“And yet … here I am.”

“Yes.” He also pushed aside his plate. “I want you to do me a favor.”

“Anything.” That was how persuasive my attraction was—it could easily be leveraged against me. Somehow, walking away was actually
not
an option.

“Let Amano stay close whenever I'm not around. Not that I think you're in any sort of physical danger,” he quickly added. “Just so that I can concentrate on what I need to do without worrying about you every second of the day. Not that I won't, but—”