Page 22 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)
New York
One week later
We’re lying in bed at one of my apartment-hotels, as she calls them, since she says they feel as impersonal as a commercial hotel suite.
The first few times I brought her along, she insisted on having her own room, and in a fucking twisted way, her insistence on putting up a wall between us pissed me off.
When I’d wake up in the middle of the night and she wasn’t with me, I’d go to whatever room she was sleeping in and bring her back—until she finally realized how pointless it was to force herself to wake up and run, because in the end, I’d always go after her anyway.
I think about what she said about the homes I keep around the world. Yeah, they are pretty impersonal. Just places to crash for a night or two, max.
What I haven’t told her is that I consider New Orleans my real home. And even now, I’ve avoided taking her there—like keeping one last wall up will help me protect a part of my life from this unplanned relationship.
How can two people who don’t trust or really know each other even call what they have a relationship?
“Tell me something about you,” I ask, maybe echoing the thought I just had.
“I don’t like talking about—”
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to hold back my irritation. “I got that part already, Amber. I mean anything. Not a secret, just something real.”
She lifts her head off my chest. “Anything?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re going to think it’s stupid.”
“Maybe. But I want to hear it anyway.”
“God, you’re brutally honest.”
“Would you rather I lied?”
“No. I’ll always choose the truth.” She rolls to the side, putting some distance between us. “Okay, I’ll tell you something if you promise to tell me something too. But you can’t cheat, or I’ll never tell you anything, never again.”
Does she realize that by saying never again , she’s placing us in some kind of long-term category?
And more importantly, why doesn’t that assumption set off alarm bells in me?
In the past, I’ve ended things with women for way less.
“Then we have a deal,” I say.
“This feels too easy to be real. You’re not exactly the type to give in quickly, Beau.”
“I’m the one who asked you to share something. I’m invested in closing the deal.”
“Oh, so I’m a deal now?” she asks.
I don’t have an answer for that, so I deflect. “If you were, you’d be one hell of a complicated one.”
She gives me one of her rare smiles. “I like that, Mr. Carmouche-LeBlanc. Something tells me that before I showed up in your life, everything was way too easy. This whole thing with women throwing themselves at your feet must get exhausting.”
“You’re a smartass.”
“Just the right amount.”
“Don’t bail on our deal, Amber.”
“Okay. You said anything, and this is going to sound silly, but...I don’t like flowers. Except daisies.”
I watch her, unsure how to take that.
This woman never stops surprising me. Of all the things I imagined she might say, flowers weren’t on the list.
“You said no cheating,” I say. “Talking about flowers doesn’t sound very personal.”
“I’m not done yet. Roses remind me of death. When my mom died, her casket was covered in them. So I don’t care what the romantics say—I hate them.”
Nope, nothing about Amber is simple. In a seemingly casual conversation, she’s given me more than I ever expected.
“Why daisies?”
“They’re my goal.”
I reach out and turn on the bedside lamp. “I don’t get it.”
“Simplicity. My goal is simplicity.”
“Your life doesn’t seem simple, at least not to me. I’ve got homes all over the globe, but I can’t imagine having to move every six months. I might not sleep in the same one more than two nights in a row, but they’re mine. I can always go back to them.”
“Maybe you’re lucky and haven’t even realized it.” She sounds like she’s talking to herself, but I won’t pretend I didn’t hear.
“Because I’m rich?”
She shakes her head. “No. Because you have somewhere to go back to.” But the very next moment, maybe realizing she’s revealed more than she meant to, she adds, “And about me moving all the time, don’t forget, I’m a Romani.”
She tries to make light of it, playing off what I called her when we first met, but I don’t buy the act. I know what Amber just shared was a part of herself probably no one else knows.
I cup her chin and make her look at me. “No, you’re not. That’s exactly why you want to become a daisy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with daisies. They just want to exist in peace.” She’s pulled the sheet up over her chest. It was around her waist before. It’s like she’s building a barrier between us.
That’s not her usual way. Amber’s never shy about showing herself to me, so I figure it’s the act of opening up that’s made her suddenly retreat.
“And your secret?” she asks.
“I didn’t find out I was adopted until I was an adult.”
She opens and closes her mouth. She wasn’t expecting that. I did it on purpose. “Why would you tell me something like that?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be that deep.”
I pull her back into my arms and hold her face so she has to look at me. “We both know you said a lot more than just some stuff about flowers, Amber. I figured it was only fair to give you something just as real in return.”