“We shared a bed last night, Arianna.”
“Yeah, I know. Still…”
“Is this what’s been bothering you all day?”
She shuts down at the question. It’s fascinating to watch her go from a nervous wreck to closing herself off to the point that I can hardly tell what she’s thinking. Lately, she’s been opening up little by little. and to see her suddenly closed off unnerves me. “I don’t… Let’s go see if we can get a second room or a room with two beds.”
We don’t.
The hotel is fully booked, but Arianna doesn’t seem that disappointed by the news. In fact, I swear I read relief in her eyes, but I can’t be certain. I question if she just likes my company or perhaps…she’s scared of being alone with me.
I lean more toward the latter when we get to the room, and she hesitates to go inside. My brows furrow at her hesitation, and it becomes clearer that something is bothering her. However, pushing the issue won’t get me any answers, so I decide to do what I imagine will put her mind at ease.
“Why don’t I look around to make sure the place is empty and safe?”
The look she gives me tells me that I’m on the right track. “Uh, yeah…okay.”
I leave her standing by the door and check every corner of the room—the bathroom, closet, and even under the bed. Once I’m certain that the place is clear, I go back to get her. She still appears nervous, and for once, I entertain the thought that I might be part of the reason she’s behaving this way.
Now that I think about it, she was fine before we shared that kiss at the dunes and only started acting strange after that. Perhaps she needs time to herself. To be fair, we haven’t lefteach other’s side since we left New York, and this could be what’s affecting her mood.
Space.
Maybe that’ll solve whatever’s going on with her.
“Why don’t you take a bath and relax? I’ll…” I scramble for something to do. Heck, I can’t leave the hotel for a walk or head down to the bar for a drink. I never drink on the job, and I’m not about to start now just because my client turns me on. “Go to the gym.”
Her pretty brows furrow, and she taps at the screen of her phone to check the time. “It’s nearly nine, Conor. You’re going to work out now?”
“Sure, I haven’t done much of that lately.”
“But don’t hotel gyms close at nine or ten?”
I tilt my head to the side and study her. Doesn’t she want me to leave? Fuck, I can’t get a read on Arianna, and it’s driving me insane. Shit, maybe I do need that workout after all. “This hotel has 24/7 access for guests. It was on the brochure I grabbed at the front desk.”
“Oh,” she deflates, but before I can react, she turns and, with her bag in hand, heads toward the bathroom. “Enjoy your workout, Conor.” Her words echo long after the door has slammed closed.
I shake my head, confused more than ever by her sudden change of mood as I change into the workout clothes I surprisingly remembered to pack. The gym is easy to find, and it’s empty, too—thank fuck. I warm up for ten minutes before moving to the heavy lifting, certain that a little sweat and strain will push a certain stubborn blonde from my mind.
It doesn’t.
After two solid hours split between cardio and weights, my tank sticking to my torso, and every muscle in my body sore, I realize that there’s no erasing Arianna from my mind. Not her and not the moments we’ve already shared together.
I grab a complimentary bottle of water and drop down on a bench with a groan, cursing myself for pushing as hard as I have. The thought of going back to that room and sharing a bed with the temptress that is my client leaves behind a sense of dread and uncertainty. So when my phone lights up with a call from Roarke, I welcome the distraction.
“You’re alive,” he says in greeting.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I pant, dabbing my forehead with a towel.
“Well, I thought Arianna would have killed you by now, seeing how much she doesn’t like you.” Fuck, I forgot about that.
“Did Elena tell you that her cousin hates my guts, or why she does?”
Roarke laughs at my expense. “Why don’t you ask her yourself? One would think you knew how to talk to a woman.”
“Oh, fuck off!” I snarl, taking another swing of my water. “Seriously, why does she hate my guts so much?”
“You don’t remember, do you?”
