Trapped with the Tycoon

Her words came out on a whisper, her breath tickling his bare chest, her declaration slicing him in two.

“I know you are, and that’s why I want to be completely honest with you.” Damn it, was that him trembling? “You’re the woman I want in my life because you make me want to be honest, you make me want to be that guy you trust and think is such a good person.”

Zara slid her hand from beneath his and eased back. “What do you mean be honest?”

“There’s so much you need to know, and I have no idea where to start.”

Braden sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. He was either the stupidest man alive or he was brilliant for coming clean like this and risking her trust. Surely once she learned the truth, the truth that came straight from him, she’d understand. Finding out any other way would make him look like a jerk, and understandably she’d be pissed. But by confessing his sins straight to her, Braden was confident she’d forgive him and they could move forward.

Could things be that easy?

Her hand rested on his shoulder blade. “Braden. You’re scaring me.”

Yeah, he was scaring himself, too. But this was worth it; she was worth it.

“My family has had some priceless heirlooms missing for decades.” He opted to start all the way back at the beginning as opposed at the end when he’d started using her. “We had an ancestor who was an Irish monk during the sixteenth century.”

“I have no idea how this affects us,” she stated, coming to sit up beside him.

“Just listen.”

Braden turned, facing her because he’d never backed down from what he wanted, and he was facing Zara head-on because he’d never wanted anything more.

“My ancestor transcribed nine of Shakespeare’s works and they were written on scrolls. They were passed down from generation to generation, but during the Great Depression they were in a house that belonged to my family. They lost everything and were forced out before they could get the scrolls.”

Braden searched her eyes as he grabbed her hand. “Those scrolls were left in the house, and we’ve been searching for them since.”

“I still don’t get any of this,” she told him, shaking her head. “What do these scrolls have to do with us?”

“The house that belonged to my family until the Depression is yours, Zara.”

“What?” she gasped. “Wait a minute, you think I have some documents that supposedly have works by Shakespeare hidden in my home?”

He watched as she processed all the words, then her shock morphed into hurt right before his eyes. Before she even spoke, his heart clenched in pain for her. He never knew he could physically hurt simply because someone he cared for was in pain.

“Did you search my house?” she asked, agony lacing her voice as she scooted back from him and clutched the sheet up around her neck as if she needed a shield of protection.

Braden swallowed the lie that could easily slip out. He wasn’t that guy, not with her. Not anymore. “Yes.”

Her lips clamped together as moisture gathered in her eyes. “And helping me go through my grandmother’s things. That was another way for you to search?”

He nodded as lead settled in his gut.

“That was why you flipped out when you saw me holding that tube.” Her eyes darted away as she spoke, as if she were playing the day back through her mind and realizing what he’d done. “You were in such a hurry to get back here, you wanted that opened so you could see inside it.”

“There was nothing in it.”

Tear-filled eyes swung back to him. “So now what? You need to do another search? Why didn’t you just ask me in the beginning?”

Another gasp escaped her seconds before a tear slid down her cheek. She didn’t bother to swipe it away, and that wet track mocked him. He’d done this to her. He’d hurt her, on purpose, but he’d had no other way initially. Not only that, he’d justified his actions.

“You hiring me wasn’t because of my abilities at all,” she whispered, scooting back. “You were using me from the start.”

Before he could defend himself—and what could he say that wouldn’t sound terrible—Zara sprang from the bed and started pulling clothes from her suitcase.

“I’ve been such a fool,” she declared as she pulled on a pair of panties. “You’ve been playing me for months. I refused to believe the rumors about your business, about how ruthless and conniving the O’Sheas are. Now I know the truth. I won’t let you use me again.”