She stared at him in silence, breathing unsteadily. Her whole body was suddenly trembling with anger. ‘Is that right?’ she said icily. ‘Then maybe I should ask for a raise, because you’re certainly not paying me enough to put up with that kind of remark.’
His face stiffened. ‘You’re overreacting,’ he said softly. ‘As I said before, there’s no need for you to come to Miami with me.’ His eyes met hers. ‘If you really want to help, stay here—and then we can go to Caracas together as planned.’
‘So you want me to come to Caracas but you don’t want me to meet your parents—’ She broke off, suddenly too angry and frustrated and upset to speak. ‘If you’re so ashamed of me, then maybe I shouldn’t be here in the first place.’
He frowned, his face darkening. ‘I’m not ashamed of you.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’
‘There is no problem. Except you. You’re making it a problem.’
‘How? By wanting to meet your parents?’
‘This—us—it has nothing to do with them.’
‘Is that why they didn’t come to our wedding?’
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. The question he had refused to answer five years ago. His parents’ absence at their wedding had always mattered to her. But now she knew that it had mattered to Malachi too, for she felt the change in him even before she saw it in his eyes.
‘They didn’t come because I didn’t ask them.’ His voice echoed harshly between them. ‘You wouldn’t understand. But then I’m not asking you to.’
‘But you are asking me to go and watch you open your new casino?’
He stared at her. ‘Please try and be reasonable, sweetheart. The two aren’t in any way connected—’
‘If you say so,’ she snapped. ‘Just go, Malachi.’ Picking up her towel, she stalked past him. ‘I’m going for a swim. Have a nice trip.’
Wading into the lagoon, she stared fixedly ahead, too furious even to register her beautiful surroundings. But the water felt cool against her skin, and the soft breeze and faint scent of frangipani was soothing, and slowly her anger started to fade.
Malachi was impossible. Rude and secretive and— ‘“Please try and be reasonable, sweetheart!”’ she muttered.
It wasn’t the most convincing impression of him, but it made her feel better, and suddenly determined not to let him spoil everything she began to swim with strong, firm strokes. Ten minutes later, smoothing the damp strands of hair away from her face, she glanced back at the beach, frowning. She was sure she had left her towel just under that palm tree...
And then her pulse gave a jolt as she saw Malachi standing at the edge of the sand, the towel in his hand.
Her footsteps faltered but then, lifting her chin, she marched towards him.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to Miami?’ she snapped.
He didn’t reply, just held out his hand. Pulse quickening, she stared at him warily.
‘I know it looks like a towel,’ he said quietly. ‘But it’s actually an olive branch.’
She didn’t reply.
Malachi watched her face shift, saw her swallow and breathe in sharply. He could see the conflict in her eyes; the longing to believe his words, the hurt holding her back.
He was on the verge of trying again when abruptly she looked up at him and said, ‘What do you want, Malachi?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I want you to come with me. To Miami. If you still want to, that is.’
She held his gaze. Her blue eyes were no longer glazed and drowsy, as they had been earlier, after they’d made love on the beach, but dark and stormy. And hostile. Very, very hostile.
‘I thought that was above my pay grade.’
Sighing, Malachi ran a hand over his face. His head was pounding, his stomach knotted with tension. Watching her walk away, he had felt a savage and unreasonable anger. Anger with his parents for messing up his time in paradise, anger with himself for letting his guard down. And anger with Addie for—
For what? For wanting to help him? For caring?