"Well... huh... I..." I cleared my throat. "I should return. I'm sorry."
But my gaze lingered on the scar that ran across his shoulder. It looked as if fire had kissed the skin and left it to heal in anger. The flesh was tight and pale in some places, darker in others. It looked like an old wound, yet my body stiffened at the sight.
Anthony must have sensed me staring so I quickly turned away.
"Stay. It's okay."
The moment those words left his lips, my breath hitched. My eyes locked with his—those penetrating gray ones that always left me unsettled.
He downed the rest of his drink and leaned against the railing, watching me. There were shadows under his eyes. Tonight, with his hair draped over his shoulder and no suit to shield him, he looked almost... vulnerable.
"Why are you awake?"
Because I came to apologize for yelling at you. But now... now I don't know anymore. The sight of him took the words—and my breath—away. It felt wrong to stare. Love was not part of the deal.
I shrugged and made my way—awkwardly—to the wooden bench entwined with green vines. His presence suddenly made me aware of what I was wearing.
My nightdress was too thin.
"I just can't sleep," I said, but left the rest unsaid.
Anthony sighed and walked up to me, one hand tucked into the pocket of his shorts. His hair whipped in the breeze.
My God, he was handsome. Effortlessly sexy.
He sat beside me, close to the edge of the bench. I didn't look at him—and thank heavens, he stayed right where he was.
But I could feel his eyes on me.
"I'm sorry for dragging you into this," he said quietly, "without telling you anything."
Now that he'd brought it up, I couldn't hold back the question. "What danger are you in?"
I turned and met his gaze. Anthony was silent for a moment, then said, "Investors who want me gone. Enemies who don't want me to exist."
My breath caught.
"This business is a game, Alicia. One you have to play if you're in it."
"Then why did you bring me into this?" I asked. No matter how much I thought about it, it still didn't make sense. If he was in danger, why couldn't he handle it alone?
"A distraction. More like bait."
His gaze swept over me, and I crossed my arms over my chest.
"You see, in this world, you have to lure them into your trap. Not wait for them to make the first move."
"That's why you want this to last a year? Long enough to trap them? Is that why you don't love—because your world is full of danger?"
Anthony nodded, his eyes drifting toward the moonlight.
I found myself staring at the scar on his chest. It stretched from his shoulder down to his armpit—a burn mark, dark and warped. My whole body froze.
"What did you mean," I whispered, "when you said I was your wall?"
I felt his body stiffen, then he turned toward me, clearly aware of where my gaze was fixed—on his scars.
Anthony moved closer and took my hand. "Listen, Alicia, I won't let any danger come near you. I promise."
His breath was warm and close, the scent of mint tempting me to lean in—maybe I should.
"How can you protect me?" I whispered.
He leaned in, his lips barely brushing my ear. That small touch made my toes curl.
"Alicia," he murmured, my name like a prayer against his lips, "You're mine. What's mine needs to be protected."
"But all of this is fake," I breathed.
Anthony's lips brushed against my neck. My God, what was he doing? His scent surrounded me.
Suddenly, his lips found the hollow of my neck—a slow, lingering kiss. Then he sucked and nibbled gently, and that was all it took for me to crumble.
I should have pushed him away, but instead, I leaned in closer.
Anthony must be drunk, because he kissed lower, tracing my collarbone. His cool breath sent shivers down my spine.
Sex will not happen unless I initiate it.
Why wasn't I stopping him?
A low growl escaped his lips. He wrapped his hands around my waist, pulling me closer against his hard chest. "My God, Alicia, you taste like sin."
His lips trailed down to the tip of my breast, kissing it tenderly.
My hand wandered over his smooth skin as I moaned softly against his ear.
"Anthony," my breath came out barely above a whisper. "Please…"
Without warning, his lips found my breast through the thin silk of my nightdress, taking it fully into his mouth. The fabric was sheer, and I felt the cool press of his lips against my bare skin beneath.
"Tell me you want this, Alicia," he murmured against me, his voice low and urgent.
"I want…"
But I couldn't finish. Another moan slipped from my lips, raw and involuntary.
I grabbed his hair, pulling him closer to my breast, then arched my neck back, surrendering to the rush of sensation.
This should have been wrong, but it felt so painfully right—as if he knew every curve of my body, and my body was begging for him.
"My God, Alicia," he breathed, taking the other mound into his mouth and sucking tenderly.
"Anthony, please…" I whispered, breathless.
One of his hands found my thigh, fingers roaming boldly over the smooth skin, sending sparks of heat through me.
Another moan escaped my lips, soft and involuntary. Then, my hand accidentally brushed against his scar. That was all it took—Anthony pulled away, inching back from me.
He didn't look at me. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. I drank too much. I won't do this again, forgive me."
He stood up quickly and walked back into the house.
But I wanted it, I whispered to the empty night.
I leaned back against the chair, my mind drifting to the moment I touched those scars. Anthony had stiffened and quickly pulled away.
I wondered about the story behind them—perhaps it wouldn't hurt to find out.