Finn (Blue-Collar Billionaires #2) (6 page)

“Not here. We’re going out. I need new stuff. And you’re going to help me choose it.”
 

My patience finally snaps. After working for the past two hours straight, my back is screaming and my feet hurt. I want to smack that grin right off his face, contract be damned.
 

"You know what, no. You are paying me to clean. You want to trash your own apartment just to get back at me, real mature by the way, that's fine. You want to make me pick up your skanky girlfriend's underwear and show off how many Magnum condoms you've used in the past few days, that's fine too. But I'm not some dog that you can snap your fingers at and expect me to follow. I may work for you but you don't own me."

His eyes burn as he steps forward. "Oh yes I do. I didn't write that contract to buy a cleaning lady. I did it to buy you. For the next six months between the hours of eight and twelve, you are mine."

I'm so frustrated that his harsh words bring tears to my eyes. I hate that I cry when I'm angry. I want to be strong and yell back at him but this kind of fury makes me feel very small. "I am not yours. I'm not anybody’s."
 

He stalks forward again and I instinctively shrink away. He doesn't seem to notice. He rests his forehead against mine, the harsh rasp of his breath hitting my cheek. When he pulls me closer, I am too stunned to protest.
 

"You are mine just as much as I am yours. This hold you've had on me has gone on too long. You walked away from me but when you left you took a part of me with you. I haven't been able to sleep without you walking in and out of my dreams. I can't close my eyes without feeling your presence. You're always with me. I can't live like this anymore."

His lips feather over my forehead and the frustration I feel morphs into a different kind of ache altogether. Maybe this is part of his plan, to hold me the way he used to and make me feel all the things that no other man has ever made me feel.
 

"You want revenge for the way I treated you. I know that. And you won't believe me but I am truly sorry for the way I left things. You deserved so much more than that. So much better than me. It's better if I assign someone else to come here so we don't have to see each other. It's just hurting us both."

He looks down at me. "If you do that I will void the contract and tie you up in court so long you'll go bankrupt just from all the legal fees. Don't push me on this, Rissa. You have no idea how far I'm willing to go."

"Is this really what you want? It's not healthy for you to keep all this anger inside. You have to move on."

"That's just it angel, I can't move on until my heart accepts the true nature of who you are. A girl who could ditch me for a richer guy and not look back. But the only way that'll happen is if I spend time with you. So you are going to go where I need you to go. You are going to talk to me.
 
And I am going to purge you from my fucking system or I'll destroy us both trying.
"

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I tuck my hands under my legs again as we ride along in silence. We’re being driven somewhere, Finn wouldn’t tell me where, in the back of the most gorgeous car I’ve ever seen. It takes all my will power not to reach out and touch all the shiny surfaces.
 
The things he said to me, no growled at me, are swimming around my head. I'm offended by the fact that he feels he has essentially bought me like a horse but even more, I'm entranced by his assertion that he needs to purge me. That he's obsessed with me after all this time.

I shouldn't have felt such a thrill of pleasure when he said that.

Finally I can’t take the silence anymore. “You have a Bentley?”

He chuckles. He’s sitting on the other side of the seat with his cane between us. The car is so spacious it almost feels like I should be yelling so he can hear me.
 

“I haven't had it long. I found that driving on this leg some days is painful." He looks at me speculatively. "I don’t remember you being into cars.”

“I wasn’t but you were. I paid attention some of the time.” Our eyes meet and there’s this strangely soft expression on his face, like he’s remembering.
 

“You always noticed everything. You always seemed to know when I was upset about something.” He looks away, out the window to the traffic rushing past.

Thinking about the past doesn’t help us, it only mires us in all the things we did wrong. I cough and bring us back to the reason why we’re here.
 

“Okay so you need stuff.”

“I do. House stuff.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything. What kind of stuff do you need? Couches, chairs, dining table. What?”

“Honestly I don’t know. The place came partially furnished and I haven’t cared to do much since then. I’ve been recuperating.”
 

His hand lands on top of the head of the cane. He toys with it absently as he talks. I’m struck again with the intense desire to know what happened to him. To hear him talk about his life after we parted, as if knowing can somehow erase all the time and distance between us.

“It looks great already just a little empty. There’s no artwork on the walls and the dining area is empty. It feels like a model home, not a place where someone actually lives.”

“That’s what we’re going to fix.”

The scenery outside has changed to a more rural landscape. We pass through an area with large, stately homes and well-manicured lawns. We’re not in Norfolk anymore or at least not any part that I’ve ever seen. The car finally slows and turns on a narrow lane. A large Victorian style home appears at the end of the drive. It looks like a dollhouse.

“Where are we?”

“In West Haven. There’s an artisan furniture store here that my lawyer recommended. One of the things I like to do is buy local. If at all possible, I use local craftsmen and workers for anything I do.”

The scary guy who has been driving us opens my door and I scramble out. There are large oak trees bordering the drive and the air is soft and cool as a kiss beneath their shade. I follow Finn up the drive. A soft bell tinkles overhead as we open the front door.
 

As soon as I step over the threshold, I feel like I've been transported back in time.
 

"Wow. This looks like the set of some historical film about the antebellum south."
 

Heavy drapes, currently tied back with rope tiebacks, adorn the windows. The hardwood floor shines beneath faded rugs that look like they cost as much as the Bentley sitting in the driveway.
 

The proprietor, a friendly older man who introduces himself as Franklin, takes me on a tour of the main showroom, explaining the significance behind some of the pieces. They deal in antique restoration and they also carry originals crafted by local artists. I wander around lost in fantasy. When I look up, Finn is standing in the same spot by the door. He's not looking at the furniture.
 

His eyes are all for me.

Finally he makes his way over to where I'm standing. “What do you think?"

I answer honestly. "I think this place is fantastic."
 

"Now that you've had a chance to look around, has anything caught your eye?"

"Just the entire store!"
 

He laughs at my exaggerated sigh of pleasure. "If you could have anything in this store you wanted, what would you choose?”

I look around the store, all the choices suddenly three times as tempting now. “What’s my budget?”

“There is no budget. Whatever you want. Just pick out what you think would look good in my place.”

A bright turquoise chaise lounge catches my eye from across the room. I walk in that direction with Finn right on my heels. When we stop, I gesture at it dramatically. “This looks like a showstopper, huh? I’m thinking we might need more than one of these.”

His expression is so shocked that I can’t stop the giggles rising up. “Maybe we should even get one for your room!”

“Bright colors have never been my thing but I agree, this is really … something.” When he sees me laughing, his expression changes and he looks like he’s about to laugh too. “But seriously, I want you to choose things that you really like. Pick everything you’d choose if you were decorating your own place.” He runs a fingertip over the curved back. Inexplicably, my back arches and moves as his finger moves, like the action is directly connected to my nerve endings.
 

“But it’s not my house. You’re the one who has to live there.”

“True but if I decorate it’ll look like a cross between an army barracks and a frat house. That’s what you’re here for.”

“I'm here so you can torture me. That's the reality, Finn.” Suddenly I’m tired of the back and forth, the wondering and the disappointment of not being able to just enjoy this time with him at face value. Every moment I have to be aware that I’m here only as long as he finds his revenge game amusing.
 

“That's not all of it." Suddenly he looks uncomfortable. "It's not just about revenge. It's about promises unfulfilled. You promised me once that you would help me make a home. I’m holding you to that. Even though nothing else we promised seemed to matter.”

“It wasn’t like that. Loving you was a risk I wasn’t mature enough to handle back then. You’re the guy who loves to flirt and always has a compliment for every woman he meets. How was I supposed to compete with that? I grew up seeing what men like that leave behind. Kids and moms who have to work three jobs. That was our life and I wanted something more. I wanted stability. I wanted something real. So I chose the man who I thought could give me that.”

“Let’s not split hairs. You left me for the guy who could give you the big house and the fancy car and the rock on your finger. You chose the guy who could take care of you.”

“I take care of myself! I always have. But everyone needs someone to fall back on. Someone they can trust to be there. That was why I left you. You aren’t the guy who sticks around, Finn.”

“I would have for you.
I would have stuck for you
.”

"All of this is in the past, Finn. What's the point of arguing about it now? It doesn't matter. Andrew is part of my past. And so are you."

"Your past?"

"We're not together anymore," I admit. "I'm sure you already know that."

Finn stares. "I didn't. I just assumed you were still together. You're living in his house."

"Because he gave it to me. As an incentive not to talk to the press. We can't have anything tarnishing the Carrington name, now can we?"

He opens his mouth to say something else but I hold up a hand to stop him. I'm so tired of talking about Andrew. He’s out of my life and I refuse to allow him to take up any more of my time.

"It doesn't matter. We're here to pick out some furniture. So let's do that. You hired me to do a job so let me do it. No more talking about the past. Okay?"

He nods, looking like he's in a daze. But when I turn to walk away, he follows.

FINN

I've gotten used to the soft sounds Rissa makes when she's working. But this time when I open my eyes it's to the sound of screaming. Not sure whether what I heard was part of a dream or nightmare, I sit up slowly, my senses on alert. I was up all night thinking about Rissa's stunning declaration yesterday that she's not with Andrew anymore. She's single.
 

She's mine.
 

It's impossible to stop my mind from leaping to the most ridiculous end of the spectrum, imagining that because she's free it means that I can have her. Then I hear it again. A scream coming from the living room.

I roll to the side and stumble out of bed, hissing in a harsh breath as all of my weight lands on my right leg. I breathe in and out in shallow pants as the pain slices through me. Then I make my way down the hallway, holding on to the wall for leverage.

Another high-pitched shriek cuts through the early morning silence and I power on, my muscles screaming every step of the way. It hurts but I have to get to her. I have to protect her.

I barge into the living room, ready to charge, attack and dismember whoever the hell has hurt her. But the sight that greets my eyes is so unexpected that instead I stop suddenly.
 

"Tank? What the hell are you doing?"
 

The question halts my brother in the act of spinning Rissa around on his shoulder. Like two children caught in the act, they both freeze and look over at me. Rissa looks up from her perch on Tank's shoulder, her hair hanging over her face and down Tank's back. The big smile on her face slowly fades.
 

“What the hell is going on?” I ask again since neither of them seems interested in giving me an answer.

Tank puts her down and once she's steady on her feet, Rissa yanks her shirt down and glares at him. “Your brother hasn’t gotten the memo that we’re adults now. He thinks he can still lift me up and spin me around to try to make me puke!”

Completely unrepentant, Tank grins back at her. “Old habits die hard.”

Rissa tries to maintain her stern expression but finally a smile spreads across her lips. “I thought your brain would have finally caught up with that big body by now but it seems you’re still thirteen years old inside.”

It kills to see her smiling at him, giving my older brother everything she’s been denying to me for the past few days. Every smile she sends my way is forced and tinged with sadness but the first time she sees Tank she lights up like a goddamned Christmas tree?

I grit my teeth resisting the urge to throw them both out. “Some people are still sleeping at seven am.”

Tank snorts. “If you’re sleeping when a woman this fine is in your place then you’re doing it wrong, bro.”

Rissa flushes as red as her hair. “Tank, it’s not like that. Your brother hired my company to clean this building.”