Page 68 of Afraid to Hope

The men raised their bottles, and Natasha lifted her glass.

Bane drained his first beer and set it down. He picked up the second full bottle and slid his arm loosely around Natasha’s shoulders, running his knuckles over her upper arm, remaining expressionless, the quiet observer. He felt her response through the layers of fabric.

“Who do you work for?”

“ART Enterprise Global. I’m in acquisitions.”

Zach straightened, his interest evident. “What does that mean?”

“I get my clients what they want,” Natasha said with a grin, as if she were the cat that ate the canary. “Their interests run from art to unique historical items. Their tastes are high-end and discerning. Price isn’t an issue, which makes buying for them a lot of fun.”

“You travel with an open checkbook?”

“In a manner of speaking. Wire transfers,” she explained.

“Have you bought anything for your clients while you’ve been here?”

“A few things.”

“Like?”

Natasha shook her head, smiling. “Confidential. My clients demand anonymity, for them and their purchases. I deliver.”

The conversation moved on, marked with laughter and a discussion of places to explore in Morocco.

“This has been fun”—Connor stood unsteadily and dropped his towel on the seat—“but I came to swim.” He walked to the edge of the pool and cannonballed in.

Bane unfolded from the chaise. His expression was stormy as he strode purposefully to the pool with Zach following. “Hey, Connor. Not a good idea. You’ve had too much to drink.” Bane turned to Zach. “You need to look out for him. He’s this side of trashed. Never leave someone behind.”

“Come on, Con,” Zach said, crouching and motioning his cousin out of the pool with his hands. “We’ve got an early morning. Let’s go.”

Connor waded through the water to the edge and hoisted himself out, nearly falling over before he stood. He grinned drunkenly at Bane and Natasha. “It’s been fun.”

Zach draped Connor’s towel around him. “We’ve enjoyed tonight. Best of luck to you on everything.”

Bane drank from his bottle while he watched the younger men disappear into the guesthouse. He dropped onto the chaise and looked away from Natasha, closing himself off.

This was a side of him she had never witnessed. Natasha placed her hand over his. “Hey.”

He acted as if he hadn’t heard her.

She patted gently. “Bane. What’s going on with you? We were having fun and now you’re shutting me out.”

He stood. “I’m going to the room.”

“No. You are not,” she said, yanking Bane hard with all her weight, pulling him back down next to her. “Please. Talk to me.”

Bane turned to her. Anguish filled his face.

Natasha felt her breath whoosh out of her. She searched his eyes, her voice cracking. “What the hell?”

He stared back, his jaw flexing.

“Bane,” she whispered, stroking his arm. She slid her arms around his strong, solid torso and hugged him, feeling his heart beat furiously against her. She kissed his stubbled jaw. “What happened?”

He shook his head and pinned her with his ever-changing eyes, opening his soul, allowing her to witness the pain he shouldered. He blinked and took a deep breath and cupped her face with his hands. Bane closed his eyes and kissed her like a drowning man. The thickly lashed lids opened, holding her gaze. “I’m going to tell you a story.”

Natasha pivoted so she could rest in the corner of the chaise, wanting to give Bane her full attention.

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