and I notice the way his shoulders are tight against his ears. I have the urge to walk over and smooth my hands along them, forcing them to relax.
"You seem stressed."
"Well, it's a stressful job."
"All the more reason to take breaks. Take care of yourself." As if I have any right at all to preach about that.
His jaw is especially clenched, and I can see how he's flexing his hands into fists. "You know what, I'm not hungry." Suddenly, he's marching out of the kitchen, and I drop the knife to follow after him.
"Nash, I'm sorry. Wait a second."
"Did Zara tell you to say that? Did she ask you to talk me into getting help? Or was it my dad? Well, you can tell him I hired his fucking friend like he wanted, and he'll be out here tomorrow, so they can get the fuck off my case."
When I grab his arm to spin him around, he flinches violently, spinning toward me with a hand near my throat, and I yelp as he stops himself, holding his open hand near my neck. With another flex, he pulls away.
"I'm sorry."
“I’m only saying this because I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to be so buried in work you can’t breathe. But you’d rather suffocate than face reality.”
His head tilts, his eyes fixed intently on my face as if I’ve surprised him. As if I’ve just verbalized exactly what he’s been feeling. Oh yeah, I know the feeling. When work is life and everything else is an annoyance that just gets in the way. When you’re so resentful toward yourself because nothing will ever be good enough, perfect enough, happy enough.
Touching his arm, I continue. “I’ve never seen you like this, Nash. It's like you're killing yourself. Your dad didn't tell me to say anything. I promise. It’s just me…and I’m concerned about you."
There's warmth in his eyes as he looks back at me, squinting at me as if he’s scrutinizing again.
"Why would you be concerned about me?"
"You're my friend, Nash."
"Yeah, but you're here to take care of yourself, not me."
Reaching out, I touch the buttons on his shirt for reasons I don't even know. "I guess this is how I relax, by taking care of others. Let me help you."
When I glance up at him, my breath gets caught in my chest not only because he’s so fucking intense and gorgeous it’s unsettling, but because he’s looking at me with renewed interest, the way a man looks at a woman he wants to fuck…or fight. It’s hard to tell with Nash. It’s definitely not the look of a close family friend. That much is for sure.
"How can you help me?"
"I don't know..." I stammer. Shit, this sounds like I’m coming onto him right now. Am I?
No, I can’t.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” he says, interrupting me.
I flinch, reaching up to my face. “What?”
“Your eyes used to be…different colors.”
“Oh,” I reply, looking away. “They’re contacts to hide the heterochromia.”
“Why would you hide that?”
“I don’t know…it’s just strange, I guess.”
“It’s not strange,” he snaps back, and I look into his eyes, the moment growing tense between us. Before I can say another word about helping him and all the ways I’d love to help him, he walks away.
It’s for the best, I tell myself. I cannot get involved with Nash Wilde, not physically or emotionally. Not only because it scares me how alike we truly are, but also because I’m here to fix myself, and getting in bed with a strung-out control freak with a mean streak is a very bad idea.
6
I don't need a woman to mother me. I’ve gone this long without one. I sure as fuck don’t need one now. Plus, Hanna is too soft; she’s fragile. Every time I think about the way she looked, wet and shivering in the bathroom mirror, I remember this ballerina is not built to handle me.
It's past ten when I finally close my laptop. The office is quiet. My two assistants, the housekeeping crew, and the mechanics all head back to the mainland at exactly six every day, and I like to keep it that way. It was the tradeoff for opening Del Rey to the company full-time. I want the evenings to myself. I need the island to be silent when the sun goes down, alone with the night sky.
But tonight, it's not just me. The light is on in the guest house when I head back across the grounds toward