Chapter Six
Diana
What am I doing?
When I walked out of my small office at AuraGeothermal, I was in a good place.
I’d clawed my emotions back under control, spent over ten hours working, sinking into my role as negotiator, and pushing thoughts of Ari out of my head—replacing them with how I was going to approach my boss, Mr. Valdasson.
And then the elevator doors opened, and everything went to hell.
It’s not chemistry but this connection. Seeing his deep passion for his company, his affinity for his country, the people he literally laid everything on the line for and fought for against his own father, takes those initial feelings from our first night together and sends roots spiraling down so deep I’m not sure I can ever wrench them loose.
I sink back into the booth, staring morosely at my cocktail. What am I going to do? I know I can do my job. That’s not in question. But the more time I spend with Ari, the more I wonder if I’m going to be able to leave Iceland with my heart intact.
My phone rings. I glance down. My stomach drops, even as the sight of the name brings about a sense of calm, a familiarity.
Liam.
“Hey, Liam.”
“Hey, Sweet Pea.”
I roll my eyes even as I smile. “You do realize I’m twenty-eight, right? I think I’m due for an upgrade on my nickname.”
Liam’s deep chuckle is comforting, familiar. “How’s my big brother treating you?”
My fingers tighten on the phone. “Okay.”
The humor evaporates out of Liam’s voice. “Everything all right?”
“Yes.” I force a smile, hope Liam can hear it in my tone. “He’s just…”
“A tight-ass?”
I grin. “That’s a good way to put it.”
“Yeah, I was a little surprised when I met him. The few times we’d talked on the phone he seemed excited to meet, but when I actually met him, he was pretty distant.”
I bite down on my lower lip as guilt makes my stomach roll. “Maybe he was distracted. Or nervous.”
“Or maybe he’s just a tight-ass.”
“Maybe.” I hesitate. “Has anything happened?”
A frustrated sigh meets my ears. “Nothing. Nothing’s happened. That’s what’s so frustrating. Not a single word since the damned funeral.” There’s another long pause. “This isn’t her, Di.”
I bite down on my lower lip. As much as I appreciate having a friend like Liam, a part of me also hates how well he knows me.
Knows how hard I’m struggling not to think this is somehow my fault, to not let myself imagine the worst-case scenario of never having Aislinn in our lives again.
To not add her to the long list of people who haven’t stuck around.
I think back to this morning, to the text I sent, as I do without fail once a week.
Hi. I miss you. I love you.
I scrolled through my history this morning.
Nearly ten months of sending Aislinn that text, and not one reply.
There have been plenty of weeks when I thought about not sending it, but I still do.
As hurt as I am, I can’t imagine not sending it.
If Liam’s right and there’s something else going on, I don’t want Aislinn to be alone.
Alone is safe. But alone is lonely, painful.
“I know. I do. I just…”
“Can’t help but wonder,” Liam says softly.
“Yeah. What can I do?”
“What you’re doing now. Listening. Being there for me, even if I keep canceling on you.” Before I can reassure him—even if his constant cancelations have hurt—he continues, “I suspect you already gave up a lot.”
My mouth dries. “What?”
“The fake engagement. Just a feeling.”
I swallow past the thickness in my throat. Before I can reply, he swears.
“I’m getting a call from a client. I won’t push right now, but sooner or later, we’ll have to talk, Diana.”
“Yes,” I force out.
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
He hangs up.
I sit there for a long moment, the phone pressed to my ear.
Then, slowly, my hand falls to my lap. Before I can even process the fact that Liam knows something is wrong, I become aware of a presence.
I look up and freeze. Ari is standing just beyond the table.
There’s no humor in his gaze, no playful smirk on his lips. There’s just a hard coldness.
Before I can say anything, a waiter passes by.
“Excuse me,” Ari says. He reaches into an inner pocket of his suit, pulls out his wallet, and hands the waiter a credit card. “Would you run this, please, and box my food to go?”
“Ari—”
“Was that Liam?”
He’s probably not even aware of the slight inflection when he says his brother’s name. That flash of pain that makes me small and cowardly.
My lungs are so tight I have to focus on forcing out my next words. “You know it was.”
“It’s none of my concern.”
“Ari, please—”
“It’s not any of my concern,” he repeats, his voice colder than the freezing temperatures outside. “I actually consider today progress, Ms. North.”
“Oh?” Not what I was expecting.
“Yes. It wasn’t just us working together. I had an opportunity to see you in action, how you handle professional situations. I can acknowledge your value as a corporate negotiator.”
The words themselves are complimentary, but I hear the insult in his emphasis on words like professional loud and clear.
The waiter returns with Ari’s credit card, a bag, and a plate of noodles covered in a creamy sauce and topped with fried onions. The waiter hands Ari his card and the bag, and sets the plate in front of me before disappearing.
“Skyr cream sauce pasta with crispy onions, toasted walnuts and cilantro.” Ari nods to me. “Enjoy your dinner. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow.”
Then, before I can say anything, he leaves. I watch him walk away, watch him do exactly what I recommended this morning.
I’m failing myself. I’m hurting Ari—not because he cares for me, but because I’m damaging any possibility of a relationship between him and Liam.
At this point, I also can’t imagine a scenario where I don’t hurt Liam on some level.
It’s not that I slept with his half brother and didn’t tell him, but now I haven’t told him for months.
The longer I’ve gone, the deeper a hole I’ve dug for myself, until I can’t see a way out where Liam and I stay friends.
Stop!
I wrap my fingers around my bracelet, around Lucy’s dog tag, as I mentally throw the brakes on my runaway panic.
I take a deep breath, release it. I’m imagining the absolute worst-case scenario, not just because of my situation but because of Aislinn.
That kind of thinking isn’t going to help me stay focused.
Somewhat calm, I manage to eat a couple bites.
But my appetite is gone. I pick up my cocktail, take a long, satisfying drink before setting the glass down, grabbing my coat and bag, and making my way out the door.
There’s no sign of Ari as I drift along the quiet streets of Reykjavik on a winter’s night.
Can I do my job? I question myself as I walk through the cold. Can I stay emotionally objective and do the best thing for AuraGeothermal?
I thought seeing Ari yesterday would wipe away the magic of that night.
He brought down my walls—walls I spent years building—and that, I acknowledge with some reluctance, is why I walked away the next morning.
Not because it was the right thing to do, but because I was scared.
I didn’t want to get too close. Didn’t want to fall deeper, and then be abandoned.
Didn’t want to get abandoned? a nasty voice whispers in my ear. Or didn’t want him to not like what he saw and leave? Like my mother. Like the numerous foster parents who declined to adopt me. Like Brian.
For a moment, my world shrinks, narrows down to the fear that has ruled me ever since my mother told my first foster family she wanted nothing more to do with me and walked out of my life forever.
I stop and suck in a long breath of Arctic air. It cleanses me, wipes away the fear. I had enough in my life before Ari. I just need to focus on doing my job, doing the best thing for my client.
And then I can finally make things right.
I’ll tell Liam, I decide. Before I leave Iceland. He can do with the information what he wishes. I hope that doesn’t include cutting me out of his life. But that’s not my choice to make.
And whether or not I like it, it’s the price I’ll have to pay for my night with Ari Valdasson.