She stares at me for a moment, and I note the indecision flickering in her eyes.
Then, she unbuckles her seatbelt, standing in the space between the couch, on the other side of the aisle, and my captain’s chair.
Turning, she presents her back to me.
I have the briefest moment to appreciate the lush curve of her ass, before her arms cross and she bends down to grab the phone. The action lifts the tank top she wears the fabric riding up her back.
The sight of her exposed skin makes me suck in a jagged breath.
Because while her arms and face are flawless, her back is covered in scars. She goes to pull down the fabric, but I grab her hand stopping her, as I assess the marks.
Whip marks, puncture wounds. I push the fabric higher, to her bra line as I take in the totality of the damage. I hear her breath catch, her hand trembling under mine. “Who did this to you?” I lift a hand, my thumb skimming over a jagged scar near her spine. “Katarina.”
She jumps at my touch and the sound of her name. “He gave me every one of these. I was his favorite torture victim,” she whispers into the space between us.
“I…” I’m at a loss for words.
With my other hand I grasp her waist, running my palm over one of the whip marks. She holds still, her body humming with tension.
“Don’t doubt my motives,” she murmurs. “Or my commitment to the task.”
I don’t know why I’m touching her. She’s a pawn, meant to be sacrificed. Except…
No woman should ever be treated with such…cruelty. I squeeze her waist. “I understand, but I promise you, I will make him pay.”
She steps away, sliding out of my hands as she pulls her shirt back in place. Sitting, she buckles her seatbelt like what she just showed me isn’t that unusual. “So you say.”
I hear the landing gear drop, and I sit back in my chair, my eyes locked on Katarina. “What’s your father’s weakness?”
“How about we build a bit of trust first?” Her arms cross over her chest. “I’ve shown you my scars. What’s your reason? Why do you want revenge?”
The plane touches down, skidding along the tarmac as I consider the harm in telling her the truth. “He murdered my fiancée.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “But why?”
My jaw hardens. I don’t talk about my past or the mistakes I’ve made with anyone. Not even my family.
I’ve told her enough for her to understand, more is not required.
The plane comes to a stop, the door opening.
Andrew emerges, collecting my bags and carrying them out. Katarina unclips her belt and starts for the bedroom. “Andrew will take care of your suitcase.”
She shakes her head. “I’d rather do it myself.”
I watch her disappear, noting that whatever is in the suitcase is valuable to her. Did I say that I didn’t wish to interact with Katarina while she stayed at Grandmont? At least for tonight, I’m breaking that rule.
If she’s out of her room and under my watchful eye, it will give me the chance I need to see what she’s hiding in that suitcase.
I rise just as Katarina comes out with her rollie. Silently I reach out for her to give me the case.
“I don’t need your help,” she says as she stops in front of me.
I grab the handle from her hand, sliding it back in its tracks and pick up the suitcase like a man.
It’s heavier than expected.
She’s definitely got something of interest in this bag. “After you.” I gesture for her to pass.
