and I could stare out at the ocean. Birds flew across the beach and then rested in nests nestled within the rocks.
“I designed this home so that I’d never feel trapped. The open, airy concept has a Scandinavian influence.”
I nodded at his explanation. “It makes sense, it’s just—well, there’s nothing personal here, nothing to make it seem like you.”
“Seem like me,” he repeated. “And who do you think I am?”
“I don’t know.” I frowned. “I know you like functionality over flash. That makes sense. But I guess—where are all your personal touches?”
“Such as?”
“Pictures? Artwork…anything…”
“Pictures. Do you mean photographs of me through the years?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
It took me a moment to realize I’d made an insensitive mistake. He didn’t have photos that marked the passage of time.
“You don’t have any of those, do you?” I asked quietly.
“No, I don’t.”
I nodded, my heart fracturing just a tiny bit. I wanted to offer him some measure of understanding, and before I could think about why I wanted to share another insight from my past, I dove in. “We moved around a lot when I was a kid. There was never any point in putting up photos. We’d just have to take them down again.”
“They were more trouble than they were worth?”
“Yes.” I didn’t tell him that there hadn’t been any photo albums either. No moments captured on film of my first few years of life, and even less later on as I developed into what I would look like as an adult.
There hadn’t been anything personal in my childhood because my mother had felt the need to shield me from people who would do terrible things if they found me. People my mother had fled for good reason.
“Don’t pity me,” he snapped.
I looked at him in confusion. “I wasn’t pitying you. I was pitying myself.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I clamped my jaw shut, wishing I hadn’t let emotions get the better of me.
I thought for sure he’d pounce on my vulnerability. Instead, he gently touched my hand and said, “I love standing in the middle of this walkway when there’s an ocean storm.”
I let out a breath of relief. “Where does it lead?”
“You’ll see.”
The enclosed glass bridge connected Hadrian’s main house to an Olympic-sized pool. The walls looked like chiseled stone, and I knew we were inside another mountain. Dim lighting fixtures cast shadows on the gray stone walls.
“I feel like Gollum,” I said with a laugh. “Traveling deep within a mountain full of tunnels.”
“Fancy a swim?” he asked, letting go of my hand and going for the buttons on his shirt.
“What about showing me the rest of the house?” I asked.
“I’ll show you later. Right now, I want you naked again.” He bared his skin and then reached out to tug the collar of the sweater I wore.
“Aren’t you tired?” I asked in enjoyment.
“No. Now, stop stalling and get naked.”
While I was still removing my clothes, Hadrian took the pool stairs until he was standing waist deep.
I stuck a toe in and shivered from the warmth. “It’s heated,” I said with a smile.
“It’s also saltwater.”
I waded into the water, and Hadrian immediately placed his hands on my hips to drag me closer. I wrapped my legs around his body, his hands moving underneath my bum to hold me up.
My fingers dragged up and down his pectorals and then his abs, lingering on the scar on his body. He was such an enigma.
“Do you really pity yourself?” he queried quietly, pressing his lips against the apple of my cheek.
I sucked in a breath, wishing I’d never let my weakness show. “I don’t know if pity is the right word,” I said slowly. “It’s just, well, it would’ve been nice to live in the same place long enough to have photos on the walls.”
His fingers drew up and down my arms. “Why did you go to work at The Rex? It can’t just be because you were poor.”
“That was blunt,” I said dryly.
“Was it?”
“There are less complicated ways to earn a living, Hadrian.”
“So I’m right. It wasn’t about the money then,” he stated.
“It wasn’t about the money,” I agreed.
“You needed a new identity, didn’t you?”
I froze. “No. I wanted something new. Something different.”
We stared into each other’s eyes, and I knew he could see right through me.
“Money doesn’t motivate you,” he said. “Aye. I knew that already. I knew it the night I met you.”
I hesitated. “It motivates you though, doesn’t it?”
“I grew up with