But Henning just couldn’t let go of it. Somehow, in this unfair world full of death and sadness, the most beautiful, most amazing woman in the world had wanted him. And he had shoved the invitation to stand by her side tonight at the fund-raiser back in her face out of fear for her. He’d overreacted outside the Icehotel out of fear. Henning sat in his car long after he had turned off the engine, gripping the steering wheel, trying like hell to figure out why he had sabotaged the most beautiful week of his life. Why was he clinging to this fear, even after the threat had faded, still letting it guide him? For the first time in five years, he let himself examine the part of him he had tried so hard to bury.
He hadn’t felt fear when he walked into that warehouse with Sanjay; it was one of the reasons he had quit the AFP. Instead, he had calculated the risk of going in early, just the two of them, and assessed it as the best option. If he had held them back, acted out of fear, would that have saved his teammate? Maybe, or maybe the explosion would have happened when the whole team came into the building. Maybe even more of his team would have died. Still, lying in the hospital bed in the days after the explosion, he had wondered if that absence of fear meant something was wrong with him, if years of seeing the very worst of people had turned off something fundamentally human about him.
But at Blackmore Inc. he had felt fear for Alya. It was the reason he had been so drawn to her, long before their days at the Icehotel, and the reason he had gone so far beyond the parameters of his job. It wasn’t just about making her feel safe. His fear for her had let in a sliver of hope that his years on the AFP hadn’t permanently damaged him, that there was a chance he could be whole again.
Which made him feel even more messed up about his blow-up at her about giving away her schedule. Had his reaction been so fucking selfish? He didn’t truly want her to cower, just so he could get another hit of that deep-seeded need to protect her, to remind himself that he was not just a cold strategist in a man’s body. And, yet, out on that frozen river, that’s exactly what he did. He had dumped all her fears back on her.
As Henning closed the door to his apartment, he couldn’t shake the sound of Alya’s voice. He leaned back against the door as whispers of her fingers played across his skin, over and over, setting him on fire. His willpower was slipping at the memory of how she looked at him when she touched him, her breaths teasing him.
That memory led to others, taking him down the road he was trying so hard to resist. Now that it was here, he didn’t stop it. Just once more. Just one moment of weakness, so he could remember what it felt like. The sounds she made as he thrust deep inside her, his cock unbearably hard and aching, holding on until she came.
Fuck. It was too much. This was why he shouldn’t even see her, despite the way Suzanne had stared at him like he had his head up his ass. Because as soon as she came close, he wouldn’t want to let her go again. And he shouldn’t take another step into her life unless he was sure he could give her what she deserved: love, not fear.
Still, she was alone tonight, and he needed to know if she was all right. Maybe Max would be willing to send him an update. Just to make sure.
Henning swiped a hand over his face, picked up his phone and dialed Max’s number.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“WE’RE HERE, MA’AM,” said the driver, peering at Alya through the rearview mirror.
She swallowed. “Just give me a minute.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
Alya took a few yoga breaths, her usual preparation for stepping out of the car before an event, preparing to face looks or judgments or whatever came her way.
But just like at the Icehotel, when she waited for the interview, the usual twist-in-the-gut feeling was conspicuously absent. In fact, that little flutter of nerves in her stomach was surprisingly invigorating. It was refreshing to step out knowing that whatever went through the minds of everyone who was watching, it didn’t change anything, not really. All along she had thought that not worrying about what others said about her meant the kind of recklessness that really had never been her style. But for her, it was something else. It was putting aside all her fears and looking forward. Not backward, not to the side.
Anything involving Max Jensen and his family—who were like royalty here—attracted the Australian press, and this fund-raiser was no exception, which made it a great place to test her resolution to just relax and look forward. She was ready to enjoy the night with her sister and Max and the rest of the Blackmore Inc. group, off duty. Alya took out her compact mirror and checked her lipstick once more. Cherry red, as Natasha had called it, to match her dress.
Her lipstick was in place. Her hair was woven into an intricate knot on her head, exposing her neck. The pearl earrings and necklace gave the whole outfit a classy look, and all the red said sexy. It was the kind of look designers might dress her up in, but she never picked it out herself. Until today. Let the fun begin.
“I’m ready,” she said to the driver. He climbed out and walked around the car to open the door for her.
Sydney’s hot summer air poured into the car, along with a cacophony of voices and music. Bulbs flashed and the crowd moved as she stepped out into the late-afternoon sun and onto the red carpet. Alya hesitated, even looked back for a moment, instinctually searching for someone’s hand to grab, someone who would make her feel less exposed. No. She was doing this on her own. The first times would tug on her vulnerabilities, but she’d learn. There was no way to move forward without risk. She had condemned Henning for not being willing to take risks, so it was time for her to step up her own game, too.
Alya held her head high and walked forward, ignoring the questions that were coming from all sides.
“Everyone has been talking about your Behind the Runway interview. Can you comment on who is the source of your thoughts on falling in love?”
“Who are you hoping to get it right with?” called another voice.
“You were seen talking intimately to Jean Pierre Rus. Can you comment?”
“Nick Bancroft posted about the flowers he sent you on social media. Are you two back together?”
She almost rolled her eyes at that last one. Of course Nick was going to find a way to make this about him. She took long strides to the circular part of the carpet, pausing there, turning for the cameras.
“No matter what I say, you’ll probably come to your own conclusions,” she said, smiling mischievously. “So, no comment.”
Was it really so easy? Of course, she had answered questions with no comment for years, but still, the insinuations had lingered, each a new bite of insecurity that tore at her, deep inside. All this time, she had cared what they thought. But today? It was...fine. The speculations were so far from the truth, and if she told anyone the real story of her and Henning they wouldn’t believe her. She had taken a risk for a man, he had offered her less and she had decided she wouldn’t settle. So simple, and yet it was everything.
Alya smiled at the cameras one more time, and then walked into the entryway. The first portion of the event was an open-aired affair, on an enormous patio right on the harbour, lined with colorful flowers. Giant sails sheltered portions of the patio from the sun, and the guests gathered around standing tables under them. A passing server offered her a glass of champagne, and she took it, scanning the place for familiar faces. Max and Natasha were here somewhere, maybe talking with donors. The rest of the Blackmore Inc. team, whom Alya had met over the years, would show up with their partners at some point, but at the moment, Alya didn’t see any of them.
She did see the society columnist for Luxury, one of the many magazines where Alya’s private life occasionally had entertained the readership, despite all her efforts to avoid it. Nathaniel Woods. Over the past three years, she and Natasha had come up with coordinated plans to avoid him at events like this, but tonight, she walked straight up to him.
His eyes showed a h
int of surprise, but he kissed her cheek and smiled. “Alya Petrova. You’re voluntarily talking to me?”
Alya laughed. “I know. Can you believe it?”
“You look lovely,” he said, and his smile was warm. He asked about the Icehotel, Federov’s collection and her plans for the spring, and they chatted about other Sydney events. The more they talked, the more she felt her confidence growing. Whatever he ended up writing, she could handle it.
But just as he was leaning in to kiss her on the cheek again, Nathaniel froze.
“Just FYI...” He cleared his throat. “There’s a very...distinct-looking man staring at you intensely. He’s quite large.”
Alya’s heart jumped. No. It couldn’t be. Probably another one of the Blackmore Inc. guys. Henning had probably checked in with someone in the office to make sure they’d be there, just to make sure she was safe.
Still, she hoped. Damn, Alya had spent the week hoping. Wasn’t she done with it? If she turned around now and it wasn’t Henning, that was probably the one thing she couldn’t handle in front of a crowd.
“Aaaaand he’s coming this way,” added Nathaniel. “I don’t suppose you know who this is.”
“I might.”
Okay, she could do this. Just hold it all in. She had years of practice controlling her feelings, and it was time to put that experience to use. Her heart pounded harder in her chest, and she took another yoga breath, this one completely useless. Then, slowly, she turned.
“Henning?” She whispered his name as he stalked across the patio. She blinked, taking him in. He’d gotten a haircut, and he was wearing...a suit? In fact, he looked a lot closer to the cadet photo she’d found of him online, the one before the attack.
“I’m getting the time-to-leave-us-the-fuck-alone vibe from him,” said Nathaniel quietly. “Strongly.”
“That’s about right.”
Was this real? Henning took a few last steps and stopped in front of her. Alya’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure everyone around them could hear it. She reached out to touch him but pulled her hand back as her mind kicked into gear. This was the man who had shot her down, and now he just showed up? Did he expect her to welcome him, just because he changed his mind?
She swallowed a lump in her throat and straightened up. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to say I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice was raw, vulnerable.
Her heart stuttered. Oh, damn. She was so in love with this man. And he had the power to hurt her. She looked around, and sure enough, no one was hiding their curiosity.
She gestured to Nathaniel. “Henning, meet Nathaniel Woods, columnist for Luxury magazine.”
Henning tipped his chin in Nathaniel’s direction. “I’ll be reading your column for the next six months to make sure this moment doesn’t end up there.”
Alya raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s what I want.”
“Unless that’s what she wants,” echoed Henning in a low grumble.
Nathaniel smiled a little. “Well, I think that’s my cue to duck out of this conversation.”
He kissed Alya on the cheek and walked away.
For a moment that impenetrable mask was back on Henning’s face, but then he took a deep breath, relaxing, letting her see the longing in his eyes. It was painful to see. He looked like he’d been just as miserable as she had been since they returned from Sweden. His fingers flexed. Did he want to touch her as much as she wanted to touch him? If so, he held back.
“I messed up,” he said, his voice rough, “and I don’t know how to make it right. I have no experience with this. But I promise I’ll figure it out.”
Alya scanned the patio, taking in the other guests who surrounded them. The closest were in listening distance, and she caught a few more furtive glances their way.
She looked back at Henning and frowned. “You want to do this right here, in front of everyone?”
His jaw was clenched, and he looked like he was in the middle of some sort of internal debate. Then he closed his eyes and swallowed. “I don’t. I’ll leave if you ask me to.”
Alya blew out a frustrated sigh. She was still so mad at him, but, Lord, she had missed him. Tearing out the security cameras had felt like tearing out a whole piece of her, the last connection between them, forged during the most difficult years of her life. He had been there all along for her, and she had gotten over her fear slowly, so slowly, with so many missteps. Yes, he was allowed to have missteps, too, but this one seemed to scrape against her rawest wound. She knew all of these things, and yet Alya wasn’t ready to ask him to leave. At least not yet.
The longer she mulled this over, the more that look of intense determination settled into Henning’s expression. He opened his mouth to speak again, but she held up her hand. “Wait. Let’s go somewhere else.”
He nodded, looking a little brighter. Had he expected her to turn him away today? And he still came?
She scanned the area, looking for someplace with a little more privacy. There weren’t a lot of options completely out of sight, but the guests were mostly clustered in the shade of the enormous sails, so she nodded over to the sunniest corner, where at least they would be out of ear range at the far end of the patio. It was lined with a white pillared railing that looked out onto Sydney Harbour, decorated with a few large plants in terra-cotta pots. Alya headed for the shade of a planted palm. Henning’s hand brushed the small of her back as she walked, and for a moment, it felt as if they had rewound a week. They were so close. But his hand dropped almost immediately. They weren’t at the Icehotel anymore.
Alya found a little nook behind the fronds of the tree. She hadn’t spotted her sister yet, but if Natasha was watching, she was probably trying to get a better view. Max, too, and maybe even the whole Blackmore Inc. group. But right now, she needed a little space from the world.
She turned around to face Henning. He had wedged himself between the plant and the railing, and one leafy frond batted at his head. He brushed it away and looked down at her, the dark intensity of his eyes heavy. No one in the world looked at her like this, like he would get down on his knees for her, give her anything. The ache of their separation echoed between them, back and forth, turning her insides molten-hot, but she resisted reaching for him. Instead, she crossed her arms.
“I still haven’t decided whether you should stay or go,” she said. “You have five minutes to explain to me why letting you stay would lead to anything else besides heartbreak. For both of us.”
He nodded, then drew in a deep breath. “I hurt you, and I’m so sorry. I’ve spent the last week thinking about it. You pulled security, taking me out of your life. And it’s been hell.”
She could hear this was painful for him, too, and she had to resist the strong urge to comfort him.
“It wasn’t about you, Henning.” Well, that wasn’t quite true. She swallowed, pushing herself to continue. “Okay, maybe it was a little about you, but mostly it was about letting go of a past that I have to put behind me. All the way.”
He didn’t speak, but she could feel he was completely tuned in to everything she said, each movement of her lips.
“I need more than a protector, Henning. I need someone who will support me as I change my life to something that I want. Something that I love.”
“You deserve that, Alya,” he said roughly. “You deserve everything.”
His words quaked through her, filled with emotion. He brought his hand to her cheek and traced her lips.
“I’ve spent the last five years with Sanjay’s death hanging over me,” he continued. “What would happen if I lost you? Just that thought makes me want to hold you so tight, to make sure nothing ever happens to you.” He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “There’s a part of me that’s always going to want to protect you. But I need to deal with it in another way. This is my shit that I n
eed to address, and I’m willing to do it. And if you need to wait for that change before we see each other again, then I respect that. I just wanted you to know that I’m choosing love over fear, starting right now.”
Oh, God, this man. Just seeing him again felt so good, so right. He was promising her he’d work on this.
“I don’t want to wait, Henning,” she said quietly.
The intensity of his expression didn’t waver. “There are parts of me that are broken, that might never get fixed.”
She lifted her hand to trace the jagged scars down the left side of his face.
“That’s what I thought about myself for so long,” she whispered.
Henning smiled, really smiled with all the warmth and tenderness she had missed. His scars pulled on the left side of his mouth, making the smile all that more vulnerable.
“Can we please figure this out together?” he whispered.
God, she wanted that. Alya took a deep breath and nodded. His arms came around her, and he held her close as she slipped her hands under his jacket, against the hard muscles of his back. She wanted to stay here, just like this, resting her cheek against his chest, and she probably always would. But they needed to finish this conversation.
“Staying here with me means we’ll both be in the spotlight, starting now,” she said, pulling back a little. “Everyone watched us walk over here, and if you hold me like this and look at me like this, people will take photos and write about us and make all sorts of speculations about why we’re together. They’ll dig up the story of your scars and lay it out for everyone to comment on. If you stay, we’re saying yes to all of that. Even if we go our separate ways in the future, you won’t be able to take that back. Are you willing to do that?”
His broken smile was full of hope. “You’re worth that risk. You’re worth everything. I’m willing to show you that, again and again. Tonight or any other night.” Then he raised an eyebrow. “And if I have my say in this, we’re definitely not going our separate ways. You’re the only one I’ve wanted for so long now, and that’s not going to change.”
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