Contacting April will have to wait until tomorrow, or maybe later tonight, after everyone has gone to sleep.
Chapter 8
JULIAN
Standing outside Iris’s bedroom, I wipe my sweaty palms on my trousers before knocking on her door. I tell myself my damp hands are caused by jungle humidity and not nerves. But I’m once again lying to myself. This woman has me all twisted up inside.
“Come in,” Iris says, and I open the door but hesitate to go inside. The dim light from the hallway casts long shadows across the wooden floor. Iris sits in bed, propped up against the headboard with a book in her lap. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and her hair falls in loose curls to her shoulders. It irritates me that she’s wearing a shirt that’s probably Lucien’s. And yet she tempts me like no one else.
I should walk away. I know I should.
I'm too damaged and too deep into this fucked up game of international politics. And yet, I can’t let her go. She’s thawed a corner of my frozen heart, and not having her in my life anymore would cause irreparable damage.
She glances up, her green eyes meeting mine. “Yes?”
I clear my throat. “We should talk.”
She nods and puts the book away as I close the door behind me with a soft click and then cross the room to sit down by thefoot of the bed. After a few moments of silence, she raises her eyebrows. “So, talk.”
“Right.” I wipe my palms on my trousers again. “As you’ve figured out, I’m not just part of the embassy staff.”
“Duh.” She rolls her eyes.
I brush my hand across my jaw to hide my smile. “Right, I can’t tell you much, but I do work for my government. I’m not a criminal.”
“You’re MI6,” she says calmly.
I flinch before I can hide my reaction. This woman is too smart for her own good. Too accurate, too beautiful, too tempting. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
She gives me a sly smile. “Right.”
“What I can tell you is that I will do everything I can to protect you. You’re safe here.”
“What about Lucien?” she asks. “Am I safe with him? How do you know him?”
“That’s a lot of questions at once.”
She frowns at me. “Don’t deflect. You promised me answers.”
So I did. “Lucien has his own agenda, but he won’t hurt you. He’s shady as fuck, but he does have a moral code.”
“And how do you know him?”
“We’ve…worked together in the past.”
“He’s MI6 as well?”
I bark out a laugh. “Lucien is too slippery to be tied down to work for any one government. He’s more of an equal-opportunity contractor for different nations.” She opens her mouth, but I hold up my hand to stall whatever questions are about to spill from her lips. “I’m sorry, that’s all I can tell you.”
She frowns again, but nods. “What happens now?”
That’s the question of the hour. “We lie low for a day or two, however long it takes for some of the violence to die down. And then you and I get the hell off this island.”
“Okay.” She picks at the hem of her t-shirt and I try not to get distracted by her creamy thighs or my thoughts about whether she’s wearing knickers under the garment. I still have the pair I ripped off her in the elevator. For reasons I don’t want to examine, I kept them after I found them in my pocket. And I’m glad I did, because those trousers disappeared from my room while I was in the shower earlier. One of Lucien’s staff probably removed them for laundering.
The silence stretches between us. Iris keeps picking at the hem of her t-shirt.
“Hey,” I say, putting my hand just above her ankle. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll get you home.”
