followed, shock lapping at her like waves against the shore. A tentative triumph coalesced in her chest, not because of those two little words—words he hadn’t meant to utter—but because she’d told him. She’d told him her truth, and she’d told him to leave her alone, and nothing terrible had happened.
Because allowing yourself to be manipulated by a man like Daniel wasn’t a crime, and you never deserved to be punished.
When she opened the door to let him out, she felt elated. When he looked over his shoulder and said, voice subdued, “I won’t bother you again,” Ruth felt like she was flying.
But then she heard him say to someone she couldn’t see, “Evening, lad. I hear you’ve been misbehaving.”
And then she heard Evan’s voice say, tightly controlled, “Mr. Burne.”
Oh, shit.
22
Evan stood, frozen, as Mr. Burne emerged from Ruth’s flat.
The man was eerily similar to his son; they shared the same height and breadth, the same startling colouring. Only Mr. Burne’s body was slightly softer, his red hair streaked liberally with grey. A literal silver fox.
The man had interviewed Evan for his position, all those weeks ago; despite being so loaded, he still liked to oversee the minutiae of his business. He was that kind of guy. In fact, for a short while, Evan had liked Mr. Burne.
But getting to know Daniel had soured that somehow.
Their eyes met, and Evan set his jaw. What should be alarming him most, here? Probably the threat of losing his job, whether for attacking the boss’s kid earlier, or because he hadn’t left Ruth alone.
And yet, the only thing on Evan’s mind was what Burne had just said to Ruth. I won’t bother you again.
So he’d been bothering Ruth.
Evan was pissed.
“Evening, lad. I hear you’ve been misbehaving.”
Those words should’ve made him nervous, coming from the man who controlled his income. Evan was too angry to be nervous. He released his words slowly, because he was in the sort of mindset where he might easily be carried away. “Mr. Burne.” He paused, collected his thoughts, continued. “I must apologise for—”
Burne held up a hand. “Never mind that. My son is a grown man. If he had the spine of one, he wouldn’t come running to me over every conflict. So let’s pretend I don’t know, since I shouldn’t.”
Evan tried to hide the shock on his face, but probably failed.
With a nod, Mr. Burne walked past Evan and down the corridor. In seconds, he’d disappeared into the stairwell.
Leaving Evan to face Ruth.
Suddenly, the things he’d wanted to say—the careful words he’d planned on his way home, about how he knew everything, and he didn’t care, and he understood—were nowhere to be found.
Fucking Burnes. A scourge, the lot of them.
To his surprise, Ruth stepped out of her doorway and came toward him. She spoke first, without prompting. He almost collapsed in shock.
“Evan,” she said, her voice hesitant. “I—I don’t want you to think that—”
“It’s okay,” he said. She looked so worried, his heart constricted in his chest. In two strides, he closed the gap between them. He wrapped his arms around her and expected her to stiffen at first—even to pull away—but she didn’t. Not for a second. Her arms slid round his waist, and her head fell against his chest, and everything was perfect.
For a while, they stood there, breathing in synch, and Evan felt more peaceful than he ever had in his life. Then he felt Ruth’s hand slide beneath the hem of his T-shirt. She didn’t do anything, really. She just pressed her palm against his back, against his bare skin, and left it there.
But that, apparently, was enough to make Evan hard. Then again, it never did take much around Ruth.
She laughed, a husky chuckle whose vibrations he felt in his chest. Then, tilting her head back, she looked up at him. “I can feel that, you know.”
Evan smiled ruefully. “Sorry. Ignore it.” Even as he spoke, his fingers trailed over the back of her neck. Her skin was softer than silk.
She exhaled, the kind of long, heavy breath that spoke volumes. Then she said, “I don’t want to ignore it.”
He looked down at her for a moment, his mind scrambling. Then finally, thankfully, he scraped together enough wits to choke out, “We should go inside.”
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s.”
Ruth hadn’t felt powerful in a while. Years, actually. It was exhilarating. It was fantastic. It was also, somehow, arousing.
Or maybe that was just Evan.
She dragged him into her flat by his T-shirt, hoping she