Page 6 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

He's always been a stubborn man, though.

After Sienna was safe and the nightmare was over, I left the country.However, as my previous employer, Declan has my bank account info. Imagine my stroke when my bank contacted me to let me know that, after a grace period of thirty days, my ten million would be posted to the account. But it was only insured up to $250,000, so I needed to figure out what to do with that cash if I wanted it all protected.

What the hell do I know about handling tenmilliondollars?

Declan wouldn't take it back, so it's just… there. I gave some to my parents and then donated another chunk to a few charities, but I haven't figured out what to do with the rest. Yet.

Anyway, I made that joke about being in the one percent and Declan is apparently going to tease me about it indefinitely.

I study the painting. "Well, maybe more like the ten percent." I scratch the back of my neck. "Or twenty."

Sienna tilts her head like a curious cat. "How much is in your wallet?"

I pull it out and count the cash. "Three hundred and forty."

"Done." She grins, holding out her hand. "Sold."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Now shake on it." After I do, she adds, "You can pick it up Friday. Just stop by here and one of the gallery attendants will pack it up."

"Thanks."

"No, thankyou," she replies with a grin.

Cool.

I like the painting. I think it's brilliant. But where am I going to put it? My apartment lease ended, so I no longer have a home base.

I'll figure it out later.

I glance at my smart watch, a habit more than a necessity since I always know what time it is. "Thanks for inviting me, and for my new conversation piece, but I should head out. Need to meet with the team about the conference next weekend." I set my empty wine glass on a table I hope is for drinks, then shove my hands in my pockets. I give Declan a side-glance. "Still can't believe you talked me into being Davis's show pony when I was having a perfectly miserable time traveling the world."

Declan's laugh is low and knowing. "I've got your pretty pink bow in my car, as requested." He claps a meaty hand on my shoulder, his old boxer's strength still there in the way he grips me. "Besides, we both know you were getting bored hopping from country to country. How many books on string theory can one man read?"

"Not nearly enough, apparently." The joke comes easy, but his words hit deep.

He's right about the boredom. But what he doesn't get, and what I can't make myself say out loud, is that boredom is safer than responsibility. Standing around at a conference so NexaProtect can snag more personal security clients is one thing. Actually taking someone's life into my hands?

No.

Never again.

I've messed up too many times, so I'm done. Something is off with my instincts, and I think it has been for years. Better to wander aimlessly while reading books than risk another precious life.

"You should join us for dinner tonight," Sienna says, her voice brightening. "We found this amazing little place in—"

"Sounds great, but I can't," I cut in, probably too quickly. I leave it at that, hoping they won't ask why, because I have no real excuse.

The truth is, sitting across from them for an entire meal—watching their synchronized movements, the way they still flirt with each other, the quiet buzz of contentment between them—feels like pressing on a bruise. My life has always been about action and duty, but Declan and Sienna make me wonder what it'd be like to look over and see someone beside me.

"Another night," I add.

Declan studies me with those laser-focused eyes. "We'll hold you to that."

I nod, knowing it's a promise I'll probably find a way to break.

Sienna hugs me again, and Declan pats my shoulder. Then I'm walking away, weaving through the crowded gallery toward the exit.

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