“He needs you, you know that, don’t you?”
Turning, I walked back toward my office and Remo fell into step beside me. “I can only give him what he wants not what he needs.”
We stopped at the door. “Why not?”
“I can’t answer that question until I know what brought him here in the first place.”
“And I hope for your sake, it’s the answer you want to hear.” He was gone before I could question his perception—a skill that made him good at what he was—an inscrutable killer with a heart.
****
THREE DAYS LATER, Ireturned to the house after a trip to Boston, to find my housekeeper standing outside my bedroom door, one hand squeezing the other, her expression one of deep concern. “What’s wrong, Maria?”
“He won’t eat, sir.” At my frown, she added, “Rayden, sir. Since you left, he never left his room and he’s only drinking orange juice. No food. I heard him vomiting just now. I’m frightened he’ll get sicker.” Tears glazed her eyes and I understood she felt responsible. I’d instructed her to take care of him before I left.
“It’s okay, Maria. What did you make for him to eat?”
“Chicken soup.”
“Good.” I tugged on my tie and shrugged out my jacket. “Bring me a bowl, I’ll take it to him.”
“Okay, sir.”
When she left, I entered my room and dropped my jacket over one of the armchairs. After a quick shower, I chose a white Henley shirt, dark blue jeans and sneakers. I hoped my casual appearance would relax Rayden. He’d seen me in nothing but suits and sweatpants. Maria was waiting for me with a tray loaded with a bowl of soup and orange juice when I stepped out. Taking the tray off her hands, I walked to Rayden’s room and entered without knocking.
Expecting chaos, I was surprised that apart from the unmade bed, the room was neat. My gaze shifted to the open terrace door. Rayden sat on the single step. With his hands in his pants pockets, he leaned against the glass, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. The wet hair, dark sweatpants and t-shirt of mine that he wore told me at least he’d showered.
I moved closer. “Rayden.” He didn’t bother looking up and I wasn’t sure if was ignoring me or lost in thought and didn’t hear me. “Rayden.” I repeated.
“What do you want, old man.”
Cocky little shit.I bit down on my chuckle and moved to sit next to him. Setting the tray on the floor between us, I looked at him. He kept his gaze on the view out front. I glanced around, admiring my costal home I enjoyed as a break from the shitty city happenings. Deep pinks colored the evening sky above the varying shades of the blue ocean below. The estate was built on prime property with a mountainous drop to the sea and the current sight was stunning. I’d brought Rayden to this bedroom, hoping the view might be calming. Judging by his hostile response, I wasn’t sure it worked.
“You need to eat something, Rayden, it’s been three days.”
This time he looked at me. His eyes shielded by his thick lashes, hiding his emotions from me, rolled over my casually clad body before lifting to mine. The blank stare unnerving as it was intriguing. He’d matured into a good-looking man. His skin tanned a shade lighter than mine, added depth to those green eyes now staring at my lips, following the slow trail of my tongue as I licked my bottom lip. I watched him mimicked the movement and a part of me was suddenly desperate to lean forward and let our mouths meld like we’d done once before.
After him, I’d fucked women but none of their mouths had touched my lips. I feared if they did, it would wipe his memory and that was something I refused to give up regardless, if he hated me for the rest of his life or I couldn’t have him again. I’d held my feelings for this boy in check for so long, my heart cried for comfort, my body ached for relief, for a need only he could satiate.
He leaned toward me and for a moment every cell in me pricked in anticipation. Then his expression shuttered once more, and he sat back. “Why the fuck am I here?”
I hid my disappointment beneath a small smile. “You don’t remember how you got here?”
“Even if I did, why here? Why you?” I wasn’t sure if his sarcasm was borne out of hate for me or the person who hurt him, either way, it did tighten the grasp on my heart and I longed to offer him the relief he needed that I knew he would resist.
I picked up the bowl of soup. His gaze dropped from my face to my hand rolling the spoon around the thick mixture. I could’ve sworn hunger ignited for just a second before dissolving behind a grimace. “People come into your life when you least expect it, Rayden. Yet you don’t know you need them until they’re in front of you.”
I ladled a spoon of the mixture and held it out to him. His eyes squinted at me in a glare. “I’m not a child.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Keeping my voice low, I lifted the spoon to his lips, half-expecting him to shove my hand aside.
His gaze pinned on me, he opened his mouth, closing his lips around the utensil with a soft slurp. He swallowed before his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. My gaze followed the movement, and it took effort to rein in my arousal. He reached for the bowl. I shook my head at the same time holding out another spoonful. Still keeping his gaze on me, he accepted it. Like before, the silence between us was comfortable. After a couple more helpings, he picked up the orange juice and downed the glass. When I offered him more soup, he shook his head. I set the bowl on the tray and leaned back with my hands on the floor to support my weight.
We both looked out to sea, enjoying the quiet once more until he said, “why didn’t you send me away.”
I shifted my gaze to him, but he was staring at his linked fingers. “When something is broken, you don’t break it some more,” I said, choosing my next words carefully. “You fix it, one touch at a time. You nurture it, one heartbeat at a time. You love it, one breath at a time.”
He was looking at me now, his expression unreadable. “And what if you’re so broken its unfixable?”
