“Hi back,” Beah replied, her voice as subdued as her eyes. Okay, what was going on here? And why did he suspect it was something he really didn’t want to hear?
Facing her, Finn rested his butt on her desk and stretched out his legs. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, no... We need to talk.”
Words to freeze a man’s blood. Finn forced a cocky smile onto his lips. “I’d far prefer to kiss the hell out of you.”
And that wasn’t a lie.
Beah didn’t smile at his quip and desire didn’t jump into her eyes. Crap, something really was wrong. Finn placed his hands on the desk and forced the words past his lips. “What’s wrong, Beah? And don’t tell me nothing because I can clearly see something is eating you up inside.”
“I need to talk to you and it’s not going to be an easy conversation.” Beah placed her elbows on her desk, linked her hands and touched them to her lips, obviously looking for the right words. Finn frowned. Was she going to call it quits, end their relationship?
“I saw Paris Cummings when I went to London.”
Her statement wasn’t a surprise. He’d assumed a meeting with her newest client was in the cards.
“Okay. And how is the old curmudgeon?”
“He isn’t old and he isn’t very curmudgeonly.” Beah wrinkled her nose. “Is that even a word?” She waved her question away. “Anyway...”
Beah stopped talking and Finn held his breath, knowing he wasn’t going to like the next words out of her mouth. It was something to do with the guilt on her face, in the way she couldn’t meet his eyes. Oh, yeah, he was about to hear whatever Beah had been hiding from him, and he wasn’t going to like it.
And waiting wasn’t something he did well. “Just tell me, Beah.”
Beah rubbed her temples before sitting up straight and gripping the edge of the desk. “For the last couple of years, Michael Summers has been asking me to join him.”
Everyone in the art world knew of Michael Summers. He was one of the world’s most influential art consultants, someone who was respected, even revered. He was the go-to guy for high-net-worth individuals who wanted to start or expand their art collection.
Finn needed to make sure he understood her correctly. “Explain.”
“He’s wanting to semi-retire and he wants me to take over his business. He’s offered me a partnership and I think I’m going to take it.”
Beah wanted to leave Murphy’s? What the hell? She was a Murphy. She couldn’t leave! Finn stood up and slapped his hands onto the surface of her desk. “Not happening.”
Beah’s eyes cooled. “You do know you have no say about who I work for, right?”
“You’re a Murphy. Your loyalty is to us,” Finn ground out, feeling the world shifting beneath his feet. While he’d been thinking of her moving in with him, of love, of their future, she’d been obsessed with going back to London, jumping ship.
It was amazing how someone with a decent IQ could be so intensely stupid.
Beah stood up, echoing his stance by placing her hands on the desk and leaning toward him. “I’m not a Murphy anymore, Finn. You gave me up when you asked for a divorce, remember?”
The stupidest thing he’d ever done, period. But he couldn’t tell her that because while he was thinking about a future with her, she’d been making plans for a future that didn’t include him. It really had been just about sex for her. Well, hell.
So this was what being run over by a train felt like.
Anger, hot and sour, bubbled. So this was all about her career? Okay, then. “We have employed you, paid you a massive salary, promoted you.”
“That’s crap! I took back my own name and worked my butt off for everything I got! You didn’t give me anything I didn’t deserve.”
She was right, of course she was. But he couldn’t tell her that, not while his heart was sliding through a mincing machine. He wanted to ask her not to take the offer, to stay with Murphy’s, beg her to choose him.
What if she didn’t share his feelings; what if this really was just a bed-based relationship? Had he read more into this than what there was?
Highly possible. This was, after all, Beah he was dealing with. She’d always managed to mess with his head. And maybe he was wanting more because he was jealous of his brothers’ happiness and contentment. Maybe he didn’t want to give up the great sex. Maybe it was because he was tired of being alone...
Maybe he didn’t love her. Maybe he was just overreacting, not thinking straight.