Page 106 of The Risk Taker
I needed to see her, to look into her eyes when she saw me again. To read her reaction to me. Both in her words and in her body.
I needed to know if I was going to get on a plane out of here and disappear again.
Or if I had something to stay and fight for.
One kiss in the alleyway last night told me everything.
She wants me as much as I want her. She needs me like I need her.
It took everything in me to resist crowding her body with mine as we kissed and tearing her panties to shreds so I could fuck into her so deep that she’d leave nail indents in my shoulders again. I needed her more than I’ve ever needed anyone. I could have lost myself in her last night, gone home with her and spent the night inside her.
Instead, I hailed her a cab and watched as it drove away with her inside.
Because first I need to do this.
I adjust the clear glasses I’m wearing and pull my baseball cap low over my forehead. Taking my time, I peruse the window display, one eye on the doorman as he greets customers and chats with those leaving the store.
A giant cylindrical fish tank is visible in the center of the store. I smirk. My brother was adamant that the store needed a central eye-catching display of some kind, and that he’d installone once he took over as CEO. I didn’t expect a fish tank, but Sullivan always keeps to his word.
“Good morning,” the doorman greets a couple who go inside.
I take a deep breath and loosen my shoulders, aiming to appear like a regular guy shopping for a gift as I move closer to the door. I wait for a man to exit the store and take my opportunity as the doorman chats to him, nodding a curt good morning as I slip inside.
My throat dries up, my lungs ceasing.
It’s been almost three years, but here I am.
Beaufort Diamonds.
Our flagship store on Fifth Avenue. One glance around tells me so much has changed. Yet, at the same time, everything is the same.
Maybe it’s just me who’s changed.
The last time I stood inside this store, I was a young man destined to become part of his family’s business, his future mapped out for him.
Now I’m…Who the fuck am I?
To them I’m a killer.
And no matter what Jude says about the circumstances surrounding my mother’s death and my role in it, it’s their belief about what happened that day that matters.
A highly respected billionaire businessman like my father, or his runaway son with a love of adrenaline and a short temper—I know whose story I’d believe.
The sales assistants greet me, but are busy assisting customers, which gives me time to walk around, taking everything in. Posters of Sinclair modeling different designs hang prominently on the walls, and in one corner, there’s a giantdisplay made to look like one of our signature velvet gift boxes, complete with silk ribbon.
Oursignature boxes. What am I saying? I’m not a part of this. Not anymore. Not ever again.
A giggle rings through the air and the words from one of the sales assistants behind me makes ice slither up my spine.
“Good morning, Miss Beaufort,” they trill.
“Good morning,” a light female voice replies.
I incline my head over my shoulder to survey the scene without showing my whole face.
She’s a swirl of blonde hair and pink outfit as she glides through the store toward the private elevator at the rear that services the company offices on the higher floors. A giant guy in a dark suit follows her, two strange-looking dogs—both wearing sweaters—cradled in his arms.
Denver—my father’s head of security.
