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“The welcome packet,” I explain. “There aren’t many females here solely representing companies as big as PAN Industries. It seems your reputation precedes you.” As soon as the words slip from my mouth, I know they came out wrong. “Wait. That came out wrong. I didn’t—”

Her eyes widen in horror and she throws her drink on me. “Bloody arsehole! You are all after the same thing.” She seethes before setting down her drink and turning away.

Christ that’s cold!

“Scarlett! Wait, please!” I attempt to chase after her, but she’s already taken her place next to old man Anderson at the table. Right across from fucking Alan.

I’m stopped in my tracks, not wanting to cause a scene. Forget it. I turn on my heel and storm from the tent.

At least she should be safe for the duration of dinner. I’m angry as I pull the sticky, dripping fabric away from my body and walk up to my room to rid myself of these drink-soaked clothes.

Angry at myself, not her. For my careless choice of words, for even approaching her. I can’t take it back now. So might as well try to find her and apologize.

Returning to the tent, I quickly sense something is off when I no longer see her. Taking a quick glance around the room lets me know Anderson’s son is also nowhere to be found.

The tent has three exits, so I go out the one’s I didn’t just come through. Rushing outside, I don’t see either of them, so I walk around to the south side before walking up to the main house. When I see she’s not there either, I begin to panic and my skin grows cold. I keep looking for her

If that knob has laid even one finger on her, I’ll rip him apart. I don’t care who his daddy is. Just when I’m circling back near the guest house, I hear a commotion.

I walk around to find him laying on top of her in the grass.

“Don’t you like it rough and dirty?” he says as I run down to where they are. “Sure looked like you did this morning. I saw you and your friend going at it like animals.”

“Get off!” she screams, clawing at his face. His hand is up her dress, and the top is ripped, nearly exposing her, and crushed flowers from her lei are scattered around them.

I. See. Red.

Charging, I grab him by the collar and throw him off her.

“What’s your problem? She’s mine!” Hearing those words fall out of his mouth makes me sick.

“Piece of shit.” I turn around and charge him, my muscles straining in my denim as Iknock us both to the ground, where we roll around, both fighting to get the upper hand. I land on top and give him a good right hook to the face that has his head flying back.

He starts fighting back, after the shock wears off and I try to pin him to the ground. His hands claw at my arms, and he slaps at my face. He fights like a sissy.

He finally closes his fists and tries to throw some punches, but he’s no match for me. He’s drunk, and I run six miles a day.

“This is my party, my family’s estate. I can do whatever I want.” He rolls away from me, holding his jaw, and I let him go.

“Then let’s go find Walter and see what he has to say.” I jump to my feet, swiping my tongue in corner of my mouth, tasting the familiar metallic tinge of blood. Little shit busted my lip.

“So you do know who I am?” he huffs out as he climbs to his feet. “You’re going to be sorry.”

Ignoring him, I walk to where she lays in the grass curled up in a ball.

“Are you all right?” I gently pull her up. She just looks at me with sad eyes and nods.

“She was good for a rough-and-tumble in the grass with you…a nobody, this morning. But she’s too good for the one putting on this party? She owes me! She’s here because of me, because she’s an easy lay. You know why they call her the closer, right?” he rants, blood dripping from the corner of his eye.

“Who the hell are you anyway?” he asks. As I stand and walk toward him, he cowers back.

“Someone you don’t need to concern yourself with. Touch her again and it’ll be the last thing you do,” I spit out, giving him a warning shove before walking back to collect Scarlett and get her out of here, away from him.

Scooping her up, I head for the guest house, tension coiled like a spring inside me. I want to go back and finish the job. Her hands reach around and hold onto my neck. I focus on her, the feel of her pressed tightly against me, her quiet breathing. I use her touch like a beacon to draw me away from the anger burning in my veins like lava.

#####

Scarlett

There’s something oddly comforting about being pressed against Cohen’s chest. His heart is a steady boom and anger radiates off him. What happened with Alan was just another example of my past catching up with me, tainting my future.

I wish I were a different person this weekend. I wish I could’ve met him under certain different circumstances, that I was someone else in another life…not someone who gave her heart away to someone who didn’t want it. If I were the carefree person who bumped into him this morning and had a heart to risk, I could have a fling with this gorgeous man with hair black as night and eyes bluer than the Mediterranean Sea. That mouthy, flirty woman is a carefully created façade.

I’m not always that confidant, even though I appear to be.

Then again, it’s not like he sweeping me off my feet to carry me to bed. He’s just a decent guy who happened to be in the right place at the wrong time. Just some tech guy here for the business who keeps running into me—literally. Now, my baggage has caught up with us both and he’s hurt and carrying me up to my room, pulled into the drama of my blackened reputation that so obviously precedes me.

I exhale a shaky breath as he moves up the gravel path, only the light of the moon and a few tiki lanterns leading the way. I hold Cohen tighter and focus on this strange beast of a man scooping me up like a damsel in distress. He may be a stranger, but his arms feel familiar. Safe. As for me, I may be in distress…bloody hell, who am I kidding? I live in a constant state of distress. But I’m not some helpless waif of a girl who can’t hold her own. Not anymore.

Cohen carries me as if I weigh nothing and keeps asking me if I’m okay. I don’t even know what that is anymore. I’ve been working ridiculous hours, keeping pace with Piers, trying to prove to us both I’m not the same person. I can use my wits and not just my body to do business. I helped him take over James’ company, hoping it was the last straw in him finally laying the past to rest. Then he got the company and his revenge, Wendy got sick, Willow is back, and I’ve got nothing. It’s like a tsunami washed us out with the past, wave after wave, relentless in its reminding. He’s not mine. Never will be. He was building the company and I was building castles in the sky, thinking I was going to have a future with him. So am I okay? Not even close.

My heart bears the brunt of the damage. The physical pain is nearly numb in comparison to the aching in my chest. I’ll have scratches and marks from being thrown to the ground, but they will fade. It’s the inside scars that never really do. My stomach recoils at the thought of Alan’s hands pulling at my dress, the alcohol on his breath blowing hot on my face. I shake my head, trying to rid the image and keep my emotions in check as we near the stone guest house—something I’m usually very good at. Instead, I focus on the anger.

I’m angry at myself for my decisions—my very bad decisions. I’m angry at Piers for not being here. At my mum for cursing me to be as shallow and broken as she was. The men I dated who showed me my body was a weapon. At Willow for coming back. I’m angry at Alan for being such a little douche. Just…everything.

Even Cohen. I’m angry he’s here, being so gorgeous, chivalrous, and safe. He’s someone I would want if I could. My head rests against his firm shoulder, and I breathe him in. He smells so good, like his own masculine scent and something like the ocean, but darker. He’s someone I could get lost in, if I weren’t already so lost. I let all other thoughts drift away and focus on his heart beating against my side and his magical scent clouding my senses.