Page 23 of Settling the Score (The Karma Club #4)

His mood went from bad to worse. Where the fuck was the freaking bug? He slammed his fist into the pillow. The cricket chirruped. He stood up, stormed across the room and flashed on the light. Like the cricket would just jump out at him and announce itself.

He stood completely still. Listening.

Nothing.

But right at the moment he went back to bed, it let out another squeak and he cursed again . Screw this.

He reached for a shirt and pulled it over his head, then wrenched the door inwards and strode out of his bug-infested room, down the corridor, to the room at the end his brother had suggested he could use instead.

He needed to sleep.

Then again, sleep was flooded with dreams of Sienna, which was arguably more disruptive than the cricket, but nonetheless… at least he stood a chance of waking up tomorrow a little more rested. If also with a hard-on that wouldn’t quit.

Had Blake said the door on the left, or the right? He frowned, knocking on one of the doors at random and hoping for the best. A very male grumble came from within. Not this door, then. Must be the other one.

He opened the door, closed it with a click then flicked on the light switch.

And froze.

Because there on the Juliette balcony with the French doors open stood – unmistakably – Sienna.

Even with her back to him, there was no mistaking it was her.

Her small, slender body was silhouetted by the moonlight and the floaty cotton nightgown she wore, leaving even less to the imagination than her wet clothes had the other day.

He knew he should leave. Obviously. There’d been some kind of mistake. Blake had thought the room was empty, when it really wasn’t.

Sienna was using this room. As if to confirm that, he glanced around and saw little signs of her occupation – a phone charging on the nightstand, a dress hanging up on the bathroom door, a pair of shoes tucked neatly by the en suite.

He stepped forward without meaning to, eyes focused on her with a laser-like intensity.

Leave. Every fibre of his soul was exhorting him to think rationally. At best, this was a stupid mistake they’d laugh about. At worst, she’d be scared shitless. Or think he was stalking her.

He took another step towards her. And another.

On the threshold of the balcony, he cleared his throat, so as not to alarm her.

And pigs might fly. She spun around, face pale, lips parted as if to scream.

At the last minute, she detoured away from that scream and whisper-shouted his name instead.

‘What the heck are you doing in my room?’

He held his hands up placatingly. She was gripping a cup of tea; he should be glad he wasn’t wearing the contents of it, he supposed.

‘A mistake,’ he said, truthfully, but her eyes narrowed.

‘Oh, yeah? You just happened to wander in here in the middle of the night? What the actual, Aiden?’

‘There’s some bug in my room,’ he explained, a little defensively to even his own ears. ‘Blake told me this room was free.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Obviously he got it wrong.’

Her face crinkled a little more, with a look of deep concentration. He held his breath, wondering what she was going to say. Tell him to get the hell out of there? That would make sense. That would be smart. For both of them.

Her throat shifted as she swallowed; he didn’t move. He didn’t offer to leave. He just stared at her. Remembering. Wanting. Freaking out, if he was honest.

‘I swear,’ he said, voice gruff. ‘This was an honest mistake.’

She crossed her arms over her chest.

Don’t look down. Don’t be a creep. Don’t look… fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut the second they landed on her beautiful breasts. Breasts he remembered vividly, despite the passage of time. Breasts that had been flooding his mind since their kiss the other day.

‘Yeah, well, I honestly think you should go find another room.’

Great idea. Even a chirruping cricket would be better than just standing like a gawping fish in her bedroom, invading her privacy and ruminations. At midnight…

‘Why are you up so late?’ He opened his eyes and looked at her, with the self-discipline of a ninja, focusing on her eyes, and nothing below neck level.

‘I… couldn’t sleep,’ she replied. Haltingly. Defensively. Interesting .

‘Want some company?’ He had no idea what possessed him to ask that.

He hadn’t planned to. But seeing her just standing there with a cup of tea, suddenly, the thing he wanted most in the world was to grab a cup of his own and join her on the small balcony.

Just to stand there, side by side, staring out at the moonlit ocean.

‘Do you mean you ?’ she squeaked, like he’d suggested they do a nudie run through the hotel.

‘I don’t see anyone else in your room.’

‘That’s because it’s my room,’ she pointed out archly. And then, in a way that made his chest throb with a fast tattoo, ‘But whatever. Suit yourself.’

Did that mean he could stay?

‘Kettle’s over there, if you want something. I brought my own tea bags.’

Relief flooded his chest.

It was like scoring the winning goal in the dying minutes of the game. He grinned as he expelled a long, slow breath. ‘You brought your own tea bags?’

Her tone was defensive. ‘So?’

‘You thought they wouldn’t have tea on the island?’

‘I didn’t know if they’d have the kinds of tea I like.’

He laughed. ‘Some kind of fancy tea?’

‘Do I seem like a fancy girl?’ she replied, pulling a face. ‘I thought they’d only have fancy tea, and I just like my everyday peppermint. I didn’t want it to have weird crap added in.’

‘What makes you think it’d have something fancy?’ he asked, walking towards the kettle, but glancing across at her. Sienna stood on the threshold of the balcony, one shoulder propped against the door jamb.

‘Hello… have you seen where we’re staying?’

He looked around the room and shrugged.

‘Okay, Moneybags, you’re probably used to living in the lap of luxury, but not this girl.

I mean – this is a world-famous billionaire’s island.

This mansion is probably the size of Ashbury Falls.

There’s an army of staff, four swimming pools, I don’t know how many spas, a restaurant, a bar, a golf course…

do you really blame me for thinking the peppermint tea might have, I don’t know, cinnamon or rooibos or freaking diamond dust? ’

‘Rooibos?’ he repeated.

‘Another type of tea.’ She waved a hand through the air, then placed it on her hip, making his mouth go instantly dry as he couldn’t help but notice – for the millionth time – her slim silhouette and beautiful curves.

He turned back to the now-boiled kettle abruptly, throwing a bag into a mug and sloshing some water in.

The mug felt like something out of a doll’s house in his hand. Dainty and fine. Like he could break it with the wrong grip.

Like he could break a person.

Except he wouldn’t. He’d never get close enough to break anyone.

He wasn’t his father.

He was Ice.

In control, always. Always. Except when he was around Sienna. Then, his famed control felt like it was constantly slipping away from him. It felt like a damned myth.

‘Have you ever been here before?’

He carried the mug towards her. As he approached, as if she wanted to keep some distance between them, she stepped out onto the balcony and rested her elbows against the wrought-iron railing.

Those stunning island palms were silhouetted against the night sky.

The moon, high and full, was a big ball of silver glittering over them, forming a triangle of light that bounced on the ocean’s waves.

The sky was a moody black, with hints of pale grey clouds floating towards the moon every so often.

‘Yeah,’ he answered, as he positioned himself beside her and looked away from the line of palms and directly beneath them. ‘For a couple of team bonding things.’

She let out a low whistle. ‘So I could have called and asked about the tea situation,’ she said, tilting an unexpected smile in his direction. His heart popped. Guilt almost choked him. Don’t call me again, Sienna.

‘Listen, Si, there’s something I want to say to you. Something I should have explained before this.’

The diminutive version of her name just slipped out; her eyes were instantly wary. ‘It’s okay.’

‘No, it’s not. Listen. The whole… not taking your calls thing. And telling you not to call me again. That was a bullshit thing to do. I’m sorry.’

She turned away from him, staring out to sea. In profile, her face was set in serious lines. There was no sense of relief at having finally apologised. He just felt… hollowed out. Because no apology could change what he’d done. Nothing could fix it.

‘It’s okay,’ she repeated, with a lift of her shoulders that only seemed to emphasise her tension.

‘You deserved so much more.’

‘Aiden, it was?—’

‘Don’t say it.’ Frustration made his voice curt. ‘Don’t tell me it ages ago. I mean, I know it was. But I still feel like an asshole for doing that to you. That didn’t go away.’

‘You were an asshole,’ she said simply, surprising him again, because she followed it up with a short laugh. But her eyes were hollow. Her lips were held in a tight line. ‘Did you ever wonder why I was calling?’

His eyes roamed her face. ‘I don’t know.’

She nodded slowly, though it was hardly an answer. He tried again.

‘I just knew that if I picked up that phone and heard your voice, I’d come home again.

Stuff my career, Blake’s career, stuff our mom getting away from Dad.

I’d screw it all up, just to go back to you.

You have no idea how much I wanted to do that, Si.

How long it took before I stopped feeling that aching pull to you and the town I’d sworn I’d break free of. ’

Her lips parted. She stared at him, shaking her head a little. ‘I don’t believe you.’