Page 20 of Out of Office Nights (Royals of Cartana #2)

‘My grandmother’s favourite teapot. It broke the day she died.’

‘May I?’ he asked, a curious thickness in his voice.

Sabeen nodded, even though her heart was caught tight in a vise whose origin she couldn’t quite fathom. Or maybe she could. Maybe she wasn’t ready to admit she was exposing herself again, granting him access to places she’d kept under lock and key since Nathan.

She watched his long, elegant fingers slowly unravel the knotted cheesecloth. Her heart jumped at the further rattle of broken crockery. He caught her pained look and, mouth flattening, stopped.

‘No. It’s fine.’

He nodded, but when she reached into it, he caught her wrist. ‘Careful. I don’t want my mood ruined by seeing you hurt yourself,’ he said, his voice deep and sombre.

That sombreness weaved through her, moved her in a way that terrified her. Because she wanted him to understand. Wanted him to know without cynicism or condemnation what her connection to her grandmother meant to her. ‘I know it’s silly to keep something that’s worth almost nothing.’

His scowl admonished her. ‘We both know it means more to you than its monetary value.’

The chiding shamed her. But also buoyed her. When she padded over to him to look into the box she hadn’t opened since she’d buried her jida , she did it by drawing strength from him. ‘I don’t know why I kept it.’

His recrimination deepened. ‘Don’t do that.’

‘What?’

‘You don’t owe anyone an explanation for what you feel when you feel it. You know why you kept it.’

She pursed her lips, shame deepening a touch. Right along with the disconcerting feeling that he saw right into her soul.

‘The real question is what you’re going to do with it. How are you going to honour her with a box of broken memories?’

She blinked, her throat clogging with a swarm of thoughts and emotions.

One of the prominent ones was that she’d vastly underestimated Teo Domene.

He was the very last thing from shallow.

His hedonistic tendencies were truly legendary, sure.

But his layers were also fathomless. And it should’ve been a relief to know that he was different from the man who’d devastated her in the past.

Unfortunately, this new discovery placed him, the man she’d exposed her inner self so thoroughly to in the last few days, in the unique position of being exceptionally intriguing to her.

‘Are you familiar with the Japanese art of kintsugi?’ she murmured.

He nodded. ‘It’s a particular favourite of mine.’

Had she known that? Collected that nugget at the back of her mind and forgotten about it, only for it to resurface now?

The idea of that, coupled with what she was thinking of doing, sent flutters rushing through her heart.

And when his eyes went to the box and took on a determined glint, the butterflies raged harder.

‘Tell me what you need,’ he said, reaching for his phone and weakening her knees all over again.

The supplies arrived within the hour. By which time she’d cleared the dining table of everything and spread a protective sheet over it.

Her hands shook as she spread out the shards of the broken teapot, and she was a little thankful that Teo, whose phone had been increasingly pinging with messages, went out into the courtyard to make what turned out to be a series of calls.

This felt like a final, cathartic act. One that was intensely personal, even if she was only laying the groundwork for the final concept later. She’d just finished setting out the sixth iteration of how she wanted the pieces to be joined when Teo entered.

His hooded eyes rested on her, then after several seconds he gave a curt nod. ‘A good start.’

Like a valve released, she moved to her sketch-pad, her fingers closing over her favourite pencil. Just as the dryer pinged.

One imperious hand came up. ‘Stay.’

She didn’t bother railing against the command. But she couldn’t help following his glorious form as he rose to retrieve his clothes.

‘There’s a perfectly adequate guest room down the hall,’ she repeated his words to him then, completely compelled by forces she couldn’t stop, added, ‘You’re welcome to use it for the night too.’

He froze, his eyes boring into her.

Too frightened to examine her true meaning underlying that common courtesy, she redirected her focus to the sketchbook.

She jerked awake at the sensation of something slipping through her fingers.

The sketchbook. On which she’d drawn nineteen sketches before her back and fingers cramping had forced her to join Teo on the sofa.

He hadn’t taken up her offer to use the guest room. He’d merely relocated to the sofa after dressing and made a few calls to his twin and his head bodyguard to avoid inciting an international incident when he was discovered absent from the villa.

The only time her attention had been distracted was when he’d tensed during the phone call to Valenti. But she’d been unable to follow the rapid-fire Cartanian language which was so close to Spanish in many ways but also contained marked differences.

The charged look he’d sent her after hanging up, silently questioning why she’d stopped, thrilled her more than she wanted to admit.

She’d resumed sketching, sipping the mint tea Teo offered her in the witching hours. And…that was the last thing she remembered.

She started to stretch now, then froze, shock and desire-tinged awareness zipping through her when she realised what she lay against.

The solid column of Teo’s upper body cushioning her back. Her lower body tucked between his splayed legs. Her cheek on his chest. His heartbeat thumping steadily beneath her ear.

The savage desire to remain exactly where she was.

‘ Buenos dias ,’ he drawled, the rumble transmitting all the way to her toes. ‘Before you berate either of us too severely for what you think is another misstep, take a beat and tell me how you feel.’

The prompt dried up her knee-jerk urge to mitigate the disaster of finding herself in his arms and the even more terrifying silent admission that had followed it. Her breath eased out, biting back a soft moan when his fingers threaded gently through her hair.

‘I feel…satisfaction. Like I’ve accomplished something important.

In a way I haven’t felt in a while.’ The admission was hushed.

Filled with overwhelming relief. She blinked back the sudden onrush of tears.

Then, dragging herself back from temptation, she sat up and rescued her sketchbook from the floor.

The rush intensified as she leafed through the pages. Like her previous offerings, it started off tentatively, before quickly morphing into…more. Brazen. Fearless. Poignant. Her heart jolted with sparks of joy at achieving what she’d despaired of only weeks ago.

But…while she was immensely grateful, she wanted… needed …more than sparks. She was greedy for more. Fourth of July fireworks on top of New Year’s Eve extravaganzas.

Rising, barely feeling Teo’s lingering touch on her arm fall away, Sabeen approached the fireplace. The embers were banked, a blatant metaphor for her current state if there ever was one. Tossing more wood onto it, she watched the flames catch then roar to life.

Her heart in her throat, she tore her sketches from the book, held them to the fire and watched them burn.

She felt him crouch behind her but didn’t turn. But she blinked back a swell of tears when he brushed his lips, soft, lingering, over her temple. ‘ Bravo, tesoro . Now it’s my turn,’ he murmured.

Still perched on her knees, she watched him reach for his tablet. Saw the exquisite designs he was about to consign to the digital trash-bin. Her hand flew to his. ‘No, don’t! Those are incredible.’

‘Perhaps. But the fire isn’t quite done with me either, tesoro . Because incredible is good, but they need to be…’ several beats elapsed before he added ‘…perfect.’

The way he said the word made her heart lurch. ‘Why?’

His gaze remained forward, tormented eyes reflecting the flames dancing in their dark depths.

‘When you’re surplus to requirements it’s easy for others to believe the worst of you.

And if that status grates enough, the need to counter it by proving yourself becomes as imperative as breathing.

And the quest for perfection never stops. ’

She frowned. ‘ Surplus to …’ she echoed then froze, a shaft of anguished, shocked empathy moving through her. ‘You? Why?’

His eyes flickered darker. ‘Why do you think? My father went from having no heirs to having three in the space of twelve months. Something or someone was bound to fall through the cracks. I’ll give you three guesses who that someone was.’

‘Teo—’

He shook his head and surged to his feet. ‘Save your pity, tesoro . I relish the challenge.’

She watched him leave the living room. Only then did she let herself exhale. To let the tears fall.

To warily approach the possibility that this feeling moving through her wasn’t just about her work. That this rebirth very much involved her emotions too and specifically Teo Domene’s visceral effect on them.