Anna

I flicked at the crumbs on my chest. This toasted bagel smothered in Irish cream cheese tasted so much better than the ones I was used to eating in Kentucky.

Adam was on his iPad, typing an email to some important contact about a media deal he was working on. The sun had started to glint up from above the neighboring buildings; light pierced through the thin sheer curtains in the bedroom.

I ate the last bite of my bagel as I looked over at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to be discreet. His naked chest was on display. His jaw was in need of shaving—although he looked sexy as hell this way. And I’d desperately enjoyed how his stubble had tickled me when he’d gone down on me last night.

“I meant to ask you earlier this week,” he began, “but did anyone say anything to you at the office about the fight?”

“Yeah . . . they may have mentioned it.” A few times . . . I had done my best to dodge the conversation whenever possible.

“And?”

“The guys think you’re a hero and Kate thinks you’re, like, a god now. Apparently fighting is sexy?” I shrugged.

“Hm.” He set his iPad on the end table and shifted to better face me.

“But you were the sexiest to me when you were riding that horse—or maybe when you were roasting marshmallows with the kids.”

His hand slipped under the sheet, resting over the silk of my nightgown. He flashed me a smile. “You are always sexy to me.”

I swallowed, wondering if this was a line. I had no reason not to trust him. Then an annoying thought crossed my mind, and I couldn’t help but ask. “How many girlfriends have you had?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Well, you know about me, and I was curious.” I blew a hair out of my face and nervously rushed my fingers to my chest, brushing at the last remaining crumbs that had fallen between the V of my silk nightgown. “We’re not official or anything, but I—”

He raised a brow. “We’re not? Was I supposed to make some sort of declaration of it? Because I’ll be damned if I’m okay with you dating another bloke.”

I smiled. “You’re totally pivoting.”

He showed me his palms. “Not at all.” Then he winked at me.

Oh God, if he didn’t want to share the number, that meant it was probably even worse than I imagined. “Well, did you ever love anyone?” I wanted to kick myself for bringing up the “L” word, because obviously we weren’t in that place (and how could we be, with me going back home in two months?), but still . . . had he?

He sat up straighter in the bed, his back to the headboard. “Did you love Jax?”

Ugh, him with the misdirection again! “I thought I did, but no, I don’t think I did.”

“Well, I only had one true love, and that was fighting. There wasn’t much time for relationships back then. And in the last five years, I’ve not been interested in anything serious.”

The thought of his casual flings made my stomach turn.

“He still texts me.” The words fell from my lips after a few awkward moments of silence, and I wasn’t sure why. I guess not telling him made me feel like I was lying, somehow. I pulled my phone off the nightstand and scrolled to the texts from Jax.

“Your ex?” He swiped through the messages. I had received even more this week.

“I changed my number, but my mom gave him the new one.”

Adam thrust the phone back at me, looking as if steam were going to roll off him in hot billows of anger. “Why the bloody hell would she do that?”

“Because she doesn’t know what happened. No one does.”

“You didn’t tell anyone?”

“He lives on the neighboring farm. Our parents are best friends.”

“I can’t even think about him without . . .” He looked down at his lap, his hands becoming fists.

“So think about me, instead,” I murmured.

I shouldn’t have brought up Jax—it was stupid. Although I did feel a little better. It felt nice not to be trapped alone with the memories anymore.

“Come to Rome with me this weekend,” he said a moment later, our eyes connecting again.

“What?”

“I used to go to the football games whenever they were in Rome, but I haven’t been since I started fighting again. We could make a weekend of it.”

“A weekend in Rome?” The idea sounded amazing, but I was still his intern. Of course, I had no intention of accepting a permanent position at his company even if it was offered to me. Why was I still so worried about being spotted with him?

I drummed my fingers against my lips, acting as if this were a tough call. “What about your training? Can you afford to take time off?”

He raised his arm, flexing his delicious bicep. “Have you felt these arms? I’m good.” He laughed.

“Okay . . . on one condition.”

“Anything, love.”

“Tell me why the hell your family owns an Italian football team.”

“It’s a feckin’ embarrassing reason.” He shook his head as his eyes cast down at his lap. Was he joking, or was something really wrong? Sometimes I couldn’t tell.

He placed a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Well, when I quit fighting I had a damn hard time with it. I tried a lot of other things to take my mind off it. Racing cars. Cliff diving. And other stupid shit.” His eyes were back on me. “I’d always loved football, so Da thought it’d be a good investment to buy a team. It was the only one on the market at the time, and so he snatched it at a good price and handed it over to me. He thought that running the team would distract me from thoughts of fighting.” He was shaking his head as he rubbed his jaw. “I know, what a feckin wanker I am—poor little rich boy whose Da buys him a football team to help him feel better. Like I said, it’s embarrassing.”

“I don’t know if I’d use those words,” I said softly, “but it’s certainly a bit more extreme than when my dad would buy me ice cream.” I cracked a smile and was grateful to see him do the same.

“So, we can leave after work tonight? We can fly around in the chopper while we’re there,” he said with a smirk.

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated against my stomach. “It’s my mom. Shit.”

“You should probably answer it.”

“Yeah, I guess. Give me one second.” I pushed off the covers and moved to the window as I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hi, Anna.”

“Everything okay, Mom?” A slow twitch of fear curled tightly inside my stomach.

“Anna—I don’t know how to tell you this, but Java’s in pretty bad shape.”

My palm went to the window to ground me. I was ready to fall. “What?”

Adam was behind me in a flash, his hand on my back.

“Baby, she has a tumor. Doc Jones says we should put her down. She’s in a lot of pain, and he said the cancer has spread through her body, and there’s nothing we can do.”

“No . . . no, I don’t accept that.” I couldn’t raise my head or look over at Adam.

“Doc says we need to do this soon. This last week she’s gone from bad to horrible, Anna. It’s what’s best for her. She’s old and suffering.”

“When?”

“This weekend.”

“Wait for me, please.”

“Anna—”

I knew what my mom was going to say. We couldn’t afford for me to take an extra international flight, but I didn’t give a damn about money right now. “I’ll charge it to my credit card. End of story.” I rushed a hand to my face as liquid gathered in my eyes.

There was a long tick of silence from the other end of the phone.

“Call me back when you know your flight,” my mom finally agreed.

I couldn’t speak. I croaked out some form of goodbye and then turned to Adam, pressing my face straight into his chest. I cried harder than I thought possible. He held me tight, rubbing my back, trying to calm me.

“My horse is going to die,” I said, my voice breaking with tears.

“I’m so sorry.”

I pulled back and swiped at my face, sniffling. “I’m gonna go home today.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“What? No.” I moved away from him in search of my laptop to book a ticket. “I’ll go for the weekend and be back by Monday. Or Tuesday, at the latest.” I flipped open the laptop and powered it on, my fingers shaking as they hovered above the keyboard. “Will John have a problem with that?”

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry about that. But, please, Anna—”

I faced him as the salty liquid dripped down my cheeks in a constant stream. “No buts, remember?” I choked out.