Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 1(62)

He turned and looked at me quizzically in the dim light of the moon. “Yes?”

“Just wondering. What are you clinging to that causes you so much suffering that you want to kill yourself?”

Immediately I knew I'd struck a nerve. His body tensed and his brow furrowed slightly, and I could tell he perhaps hadn't thought of it that way. To him, taking that fatal, final step was letting go simply because he couldn't—or didn't want—to see the alternatives. He'd said his decision was a logical one, and while I doubted that was entirely true, perhaps, just maybe, if he'd reasoned himself into it, he could reason himself out of it.

After all, most people don't just off themselves because it's the most convenient way out of their problems. Under his calm exterior, I knew he must be terribly hurt by his friend's betrayal. Why he clung to that attachment was the root of his problems. It stood to reason.

“I...” he said, staring off into the distance. “I'm not sure.” His voice wavered, and I could tell I had startled him, perhaps even frightened him. “We should get ready to walk to the boat.”

He backed up ever so slightly, as though he were wary of me, and I realized that he had trapped me against the wall again, holding me up. My knees, still weak from my orgasm, could barely support my weight, but I tried anyway as he released the support he had been giving me. Malcolm shot me one last look that I couldn't quite decipher, then took a step back and frowned out at the harbor. Cool sea wind blew his hair back from his face, and I wanted to run my fingers through it.

In the harbor I saw the white bulk of a yacht pull up to the dock, and Malcolm took my hand. “Let's go.”

We walked quickly and briskly, but didn't run. The smell of the sea filled my head, made me dizzy, and I kept waiting to hear the shout of the police, telling us to stop in the name of the law or whatever it is they say in Croatia, but though I strained to hear, no shouts came. If we had been in a movie it would have been a mad dash, we would be separated, darting through the streets, trying to reach the docks in time, but as it was Malcolm was too sharp, too ahead of the game to be caught like that, which just made his little FBI predicament all the more perplexing to me. We made it to the boat without incident and boarded.

It was huge. Three decks and a sleek design that made me think of space age flying cars. The boat rolled beneath my feet and it took all my concentration not to fall over as Malcolm led me past a silent, uniformed captain, only a shadow barely touched by yellow lamplight, who nodded at us before setting about doing whatever it was that was needed to reel the gangplank in. The dark was so encompassing that I barely got a glimpse of the deck—ghostly chairs, a couch, a coffee table—before Malcolm led me inside.

It was even more ridiculous inside. Gorgeous, perfectly designed, luxurious... everything one might expect from a billionaire playboy who wanted nothing more than to party with fifty of his closest friends in international waters. The sitting room—or whatever it was—had been constructed in cream trim and cherry wood paneling. A comfortable place to gather and chat, or throw a cocktail party. So elegant. So high-society. So exhausting.

“Would you like a drink, Sadie?” Malcolm asked me as he crossed the room to the bar and the hum of the motors picked up. I glanced out the window and saw the lights of Dubrovnik retreating.

This was really happening. We were on the run from the law.

“Yes,” I said. “I could really use a drink.”

His eyes flickered to me. “Scotch?”

I waved my hand. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.”

He selected a few cubes of ice from a well-concealed freezer and poured two glasses of Scotch on the rocks. Crossing back to me, he held it out and I took it, braving a sip.

Ugh. Scotch tastes like shit. But it was a drink, so I just had to deal with it.

Malcolm was already turning toward the couch, and as I fought the Scotch down, I watched as he sprawled out, throwing one leg up onto the cushions and taking a long, deliberate drink from his glass as he stared me in the eye.#p#分页标题#e#

I felt the silence called for some commentary.

“So,” I said. “Here we are.”

He nodded. “This is true.” He yawned, like a lion with his pride, surveying the land around him. The master of his domain.

I looked around. The room was gorgeous, decorated in tones of taupe and white and gold, perfectly elegant and turned out like a hotel room. “So I guess my job's going to be pretty easy, then,” I said.

“Oh?” he asked. “How do you mean?”

I rolled my eyes. Did he really not get it? “I mean, why would you want to leave all this behind?” I gestured around me. “I mean, shit, if I had a yacht, I'd just spend all my time on it throwing parties.”