Page 4 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

One of Sienna's watercolor paintings catches my eye. There's a vibrant blue ocean blending into whitewashed buildings stacked on a hillside. Though, as is her style, there are creepy red eyes peeking out of windows. A few ghostly skeleton hands are curved around corners. Also, there are plenty of black, ugly clouds rolling along the horizon. It's an unsettling painting as much as it is beautiful.

Despite the darkness in it that's giving me the chills, she captured the colorful Mediterranean vibe I left behind two weeks ago. I kind of liked the Greek city I was in, even though I kept getting mistaken for a Chinese tourist (I mean,come on), but I can't say I truly miss it. Not sure I miss any of the places I travelled to, even though I had hoped one of them would pull at my heartstrings.

I long for that feeling of 'yeah, this is where I belong' but it eludes me. I even visited my parents in Seoul for a month adn it still didn't feel right.

Funny how that works. Guess I'm a hopeless case.

Doesn't matter since I'm here now.

I scan the gallery again, reading the terrain; it's automatic behavior at this point. My brain takes note of any potential threats, working out exit strategies and choke points.

There's a couple near the wine table having an argument they think is subtle, but the look on the woman's face screams 'affair'—hers or his, I'm not sure. One of them fucked up.

A man with a backpack is lingering too close to the bathroom, like he's trying to prevent someone from entering and discovering the mess he left in the toilet.

A woman near my left has glanced at her watch four times in two minutes. Her energy is anxious but not violent.

None of them are actual threats, only my brain grasping at straws. It just needs something to do besides remember why I'm here, why I had to leave Greece, why I agreed to come to this gallery opening when every instinct begged me to stay away from the States.

I'm here because Declan asked for a favor. Because I owe him. Because the woman he loved was kidnapped on my watch.

I take a sip from the wine I've been nursing and let the tart flavors pull me from that particular rabbit hole. Missteps, lapses in judgment, fucking Jeremy. It's a highlight reel I've watched too many times.

Jesus, how did I not sense that guy was working for the enemy? I didn't catch that. And it got Sienna kidnapped from her hotel room in Hawaii.

If Declan and I hadn't been able to rescue her, if she'd gotten killed…

No, it's better not to go there. She's safe now. She didn't pay for my failure.

I drain the rest of my wine, frowning at her ominously beautiful painting. It's the painting or it's everything else, but I'm feeling sick and acid is boiling in my throat. Once I fulfill this favor for Declan—being a show pony for a tech conference—I should leave the States again.

"I can't believe it. You actually came."

A sickening twist in my stomach makes me close my eyes. That's Sienna's voice. I was hoping they wouldn't find me yet, give me more time to prepare myself for the avalanche of guilt that'll smother me when I see their faces.

She doesn't wait for me to turn and greet her. Instead, she moves around until she's blocking my view of the painting. I barely have time to force a smile before she's moving in for a hug—arms outstretched, crimson hair framing her face, elegant black dress perfectly suited for her art opening, grin wide enough to flash those pearly teeth. I return the hug like a normal person would, though it's strange to have casual physical contact again after a year of minimal human interaction.

Declan appears beside her, those intense blue eyes hitting me first before I realize he's not wearing his standard outfit: a suit. Every day for all the years I worked as his security, it was the same thing: crisp slacks, white button-down, suit jacket. Sometimes a vest.

I almost have a heart attack when I glance down at his faded jeans, then stare at his plain, blackt-shirt.

Oh, man. Women do change you.

He looks good though. He's relaxed and happy and like a different man. Well, except that intensity hiding under his smile and crinkled eyes. He gives me a nod and the ghost of a smirk. He actually looks glad to see me, even though I'm the guy who failed to protect his woman. Nothing says 'job well done' like your client ending up in mortal danger.

Yeah, this guilt isn't an avalanche. It's a thousand tiny needles just gouging my organs out.

Damnit, they shouldn't be so excited I'm here.

"I said I'd come," I reply, stepping from Sienna's embrace. I flick my black bangs off my forehead and drop my gaze to my empty wine glass.

"I know," Sienna says, "but you've been so aloof. I thought for sure you'd bail at the last second."

Declan chimes in: "I knew he'd come begrudgingly. He always keeps his word."

I swirl my empty glass like I can manifest more alcohol to get me through this. "I wouldn't say begrudgingly. You know I like your faces."

That gets a chuckle from both of them.

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