The Woman Sent to Tame Him

CHAPTER ELEVEN


‘CONGRATULATIONS, SERENA, she’s a beauty.’

‘Thanks!’ she said for the hundredth time as she cut through the swathe of racing drivers, TV pundits and VIP celebrities littering the champagne reception.

Despite her stomach doing a really good impression of a cocktail shaker, she’d slipped free of Finn’s arm an hour earlier. Half of her was adamant not to appear clingy and her other half was determined to venture out on her own. An endeavour that had whipped her into a whirlwind of team chit-chat, photos and promo for the SL1 until she felt high as a proverbial kite.

It couldn’t possibly be the champagne. Truthfully, she thought it was a disgusting blend of wince-worthy tartness and bubbles exploding up her nose. She’d do anything for a beer.

Spotting a familiar face in a bunch of footballers, she pulled up alongside her dad, waited for a lull and then tugged at his sleeve. ‘Have you seen Finn anywhere? We’re supposed to be heading into the marquee for dinner.’

‘Not lately. Good God, you look stunning, sweetheart. I had to pick my jaw up off the floor when you walked in.’

‘That makes two of us.’ Jake Morgan sidled up to join them, his chocolate gaze liquid with warmth. ‘You look fantastic, Serena.’

‘Oh, stop, now you’re making me blush.’ She gave a small smile to soften the brush-off—she still wasn’t used to compliments. She kept expecting someone to shout Impostor! Fraud! Even if she felt...well, beautiful for the first time in her life. All giddy and girly.

And if that aroused an anxious tremble in her stomach she ignored it. There’d be no dark shadows tonight.

She took a deep, fortifying breath and switched gears. ‘I can’t wait to see my baby whizz around Silverstone tomorrow.’

‘She’ll win for sure,’ someone said.

‘Too right she will.’ As long as Finn kept his mind on the game.

‘Can I get you a drink before we head over?’ Jake asked.

Inwardly cringing at the thought that she’d end up with another glass of fizz, she said, ‘Actually, Jake, I’ll come with you.’

The bar was the traditional mahogany type: deep and framed with brass rails. Serena gripped the cold metal as they deliberated over the mirrored wall of various optics.

‘What does gin taste like?’ she mused.

‘Not sure, but it used to put my mother in a crying jag.’

Serena snorted a laugh, turned round. ‘Really?’

And that was when she caught a glimpse of dirty blond hair in the mirror’s reflection and twisted to see Finn laughing in that charming, charismatic way of his.

‘You pick, Jake. I’ll be back in a tick.’

Off she went, diving through the throng and popping out at the ‘Finn cluster’ planted at the top of some stone steps leading to the vast lawn—a lush green blanket saturated with an array of iconic racing cars from past to present, as well as supercars, helicopters and yachts in a huge luxury showcase.

As if Finn sensed her behind him he reached round, grabbed for her hand, then pulled her into the fray and introduced her with practised ease and a pulse-thrumming smile. A smile she tried to emulate as he assaulted her senses, rubbing his thumb over the ball of her hand, making her bones liquefy and then leaning in until his dark scent fired heat through her veins.

‘You enjoying yourself?’

‘Yeah, I am. Surprise!’ she said, only to cringe at the quiver in her voice, musing that she might be a league too deep with this man who effortlessly consumed her. ‘Are you coming in for dinner? We’re being seated any minute.’

‘We?’

‘Jake is at the bar, ordering drinks. He’s waiting for me.’

Finn glanced towards that very spot, staring with an enigmatic hardness that turned pensive. Then he squeezed her hand until she flinched. What the—?

Jerkily he released her. ‘Sorry, beautiful.’

If she didn’t know better she would think he’d shocked himself.

‘Sure, I’ll follow. You go ahead,’ he said, with an austere jerk of his head and a dark note to his drawl that she couldn’t grasp.

As it was, they were halfway through their appetizers when he finally deigned to join the highly sophisticated mix, whipping out all the weapons in his loaded arsenal to schmooze his tardiness away.

And while every man and woman fell beneath his spell Serena stared at those tight shoulders, filling out his suave custom-made tux, and fought with disquiet. He appeared ruffled. As if he’d been thrusting his fingers through his hair. Or someone else had. Stop. Just stop. You’re being ridiculous.

Soon, she told herself. As soon as the first band came on he would come for her to dance. Although the anticipation was a killer. Especially when she could feel his eyes burning into her flesh when he thought she wasn’t looking.

What he failed to grasp was that her every sense was attuned to his high frequency. Every word from his lips dusted over her skin like the petals of the wild orchids that trailed from the crystal centrepiece, and every deep, sinful chuckle tightened the flesh between her legs. The waiting, waiting, slowly drove her insane, until at one point his gaze was so intense a tornado whipping through the room couldn’t have stopped her meeting it across the table.

Finn placed his palm on his chest, as if his heart ached, and, oh, her own thumped in response. But then he pulled his phone from the breast pocket and she realised it must have been on vibrate. Idiot.

Her stomach hit the velvet seat with a disheartened thump even as she tensed with the chill of suspense.

Much as he had on another few occasions, he stared at the screen, then glanced back up, his demeanour fierce, indecipherable, his jaw locked tight, something dark and portentous swirling in his eyes.

Guilt. Another woman. It had to be.

Throat thick, she had to swallow hard. ‘Aren’t you going to answer it?’

It was the same question she’d previously voiced, and for the first time she wanted him to say no. Not to spoil the moment. Their night.

Except this time he stood. ‘Yes. I’ve been waiting for a call. It’s...important.’

‘Is that right?’ She sounded snarky, but right now she couldn’t care.

One of the black-and-white-garbed waiters lowered a gold-trimmed plate in front of her and the sweet aroma of salmon and asparagus hit her stomach like battery acid even as she told herself she could be leaping to conclusions. But why act so guilty if it was innocent? Either way, she had no right to be upset, no claim on him whatsoever. Exactly. She was not furiously jealous. Absolutely not. That would mean she was far more emotionally involved with him than good sense allowed.


‘I’ll be back in a while.’

Mutely she nodded. Forty minutes later she was still calling herself fifty kinds of fool. He’d left. He must have. And while an orchestra of pain and hurt struck a beat inside— directed at herself for believing she had a shot with him—she refused to let him take her pride from her tonight.

The bolt of fortitude was like taking a match to gasoline, and fury hit her in an explosion of fire. Once again she’d set herself up for a fall. But she wasn’t going down. Not this time.

‘Serena? The band is striking up. Would you do me the honour?’

Glancing up to Jake’s handsome face, she felt her throat pulse, raw and scratchy. Was she seriously going to sit here all night like a fool, waiting for a man who might never come back? Was she really that desperate?

‘Sure, Jake,’ she said, ignoring the forlorn thump behind her breast telling her that this felt very, very wrong. ‘That’d be great.’

* * *

It was like being confronted with his nemesis. The antithesis of everything he was.

Guts writhing in a chaotic mess, Finn leaned against the wall at the rear of the dimly lit ballroom, thinking how poignant it was to be enveloped by shadows—everything Serena feared—as he watched Jake Morgan enfold her hand and beckon her to the dance floor.

His body jerked on a visceral instinct to go over there, stop the other man from taking her in his arms. But, dammit, he could be honourable for once in his life. Step aside. Let the guy make his move. It was a thought he’d battled with all night. Would have surrendered to if it weren’t for the undesirable, inexplicable, violent primal instincts that demanded he protect her. Possess her. Take her. Make her his.

But Finn knew the fall out from such selfishness. It had chased his career, fed off the high-octane rush of success, abandoned his mother when she’d needed him, left Eva to the heart-wrenching fate of watching her die. It had cost this woman her brother. So this, he assured himself, was an argument he would win. He wanted her to be happy.

One of the country’s top bands struck out with a Rat-Pack number and when Serena offered Jake a small smile and moved into his embrace, white-hot lightning shot up his forearms, tearing through muscle. He had to shake his fists loose. What was wrong with him? He had to get a grip.

Jake was a good guy. Reliable. Honourable. Chances were he could remember the names of every woman he’d slept with.

Jake was trustworthy. What was more he hadn’t just ended a call to the Chief of the Singapore Police, who’d discovered a new lead and was about to make an arrest.

Insides shaking, he blanked his mind. Back away, Finn. Back the hell away.

She could have a relationship with this guy. Finn knew nothing about those apart from the fact that the mere word spawned ramifications that were bad for his respiratory rate.

Across the room Jake fitted his hand to Serena’s dainty waist, tugged her close, whispered in her ear, and Finn felt the first fissure crack in his sanity. His every possessive, protective instinct kicked and clawed with steel-tipped talons, tearing his insides to shreds, until he was back in that cell, fists balled, ready to protect what was his. And had it worked? No!

The dark licked around the edges of his life.

‘Finn?’

Sweat trickled down his spine, making the skin on his back itch as violence poured through his veins. He’d been a stranger to brutality before Singapore and now, like then, it coated his tongue with vile bitterness.

Pain shot up his temples.

‘Finn? You okay, my man?’

Michael Scott.

‘Gotta go,’ Finn said. ‘Something’s come up. Can you tell Serena...?’

Any response was lost as he shoved through the double doors, commanding his body to stay in control before darkness engulfed him and his demons wreaked havoc on his soul.

* * *

Serena waltzed across the marble foyer of the Country Club as if her squished feet weren’t throbbing and her legs didn’t feel as if they’d been chewed by a Doberman.

Heart weary, her only thought a hot bath and some sleep, she rode the elevator to the top floor, then slipped through the yawning metal doors—and stumbled to a halt.

A maid shuffled on her feet outside Finn’s suite, biting on a torn fingernail.

Unease coiled through Serena’s midriff. ‘Is there a problem?’

The brunette jerked upright, wide-eyed. ‘I...I’m sorry, Miss Scott, I heard a crash as I was passing so I knocked to check everything was all right.’ She gave a tremulous smile. ‘He isn’t answering. You’re with Mr St George, yes?’

Serena frowned, then realised the maid must have seen her in his suite earlier, put two and two together and came up with six.

A crash? Oh, God. What if he was hurt? Had had some kind of accident?

Chin up, she lied through her teeth. ‘Yes, we’re together. Don’t worry—I’m sure everything is fine. But, while you’re here, I’ve lost my room card. Could you switch me in, please?’

Antsy, suddenly slapped with the suspicion that he could be having sex in there—which would seriously be one humiliation too many—Serena tap-tap-tapped one diamanté toe on the floor.

As soon as the maid dipped into a curtsey and turned to walk away Serena slipped into the room. A room filled with dark shadows. She blinked rapidly to adjust her vision and when the scene crystallised, she sucked in air at the sight before her. One surely from her nightmares.

Trashed. His room was completely and utterly trashed.

Clothes were strewn all over the floor, as if his luggage had been overturned from the stand. A floor lamp was lying drunkenly on one side and the bed was stripped; dark silver satin pouring over the sides. The notion that he’d just had frenzied sex all over them crushed her heart.

It wasn’t until she spotted the man himself, hands braced on the curved walnut bar, head bowed, white dress shirt damp and clinging to his back, that a portentous sensation crept up her arms. This didn’t look like a seduction scene. It looked like—

‘Oh, my God, Finn, has your room been ransacked? You have to call Security!’

Spotting the phone on the bedside table, she dashed over to call Reception.

‘You know,’ he said easily, ‘that would be a very good idea. Perhaps they could take me away and lock me up.’

Reaching for the phone, her hand froze in mid-air. ‘You did this?’

She took his silence as a yes and shivered right down to her toes.

The atmosphere had turned thick with danger. She could virtually feel his darkness, blacker than ever before. And the urge to turn, to leave, was so strong she had to push her feet to the floor until they rooted—she would never be frightened of this man.

‘But why?’

‘Get out, Serena. Now. Before I break.’

Break? What was he talking about?

He swiped a bottle of tequila from the marble bar-top and poured the liquid into a crystal tumbler.

‘Finn?’ she said, panicking as he raised the glass to his lips and took a long swallow. ‘What are you doing? You’re driving tomorrow!’

‘Nagging, Miss Scott? Now, that is a typical female trait. One unbelievably hot dress and you’re halfway there already.’

‘You were the one who dressed me up! Only to disappear on a booty call and leave me there.’

A humourless laugh broke past his lips. ‘A booty call? Is that what you thought?’

‘What else was I supposed to think?’

With a severe kind of control, completely at odds with the state of the room, he turned to face her and air hit the back of her throat. His beautiful blue eyes were black with guilt, devastation and fury. So much fury it poured off him in waves. Great tidal waves of anguish.


‘Hold up there, Lothario. What are you angry with me for?’

Slam went the glass to the marble and liquid sloshed over the crystal rim. ‘No booty call. But it didn’t take you long to fall into the arms of another man, did it?’

Serena flinched at the scathing lash of his tongue, the cut biting deep.

She’d messed up. Royally.

Raising one arm, Finn pointed due west and emotion gushed on a voice thick and unsteady. ‘Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? To see his arms around you, holding you close? To walk away thinking you were better off with him?!’

Words blasted from him like bullets—bang, bang—until she rocked where she stood. Then she cursed for thinking the worst of him.

‘I’m sorry. I waited and he asked me to dance. That’s all we did—dance. I...’ Her heart was beating so hard and loud she could barely think. But never mind her pride. She owed him this much. ‘I only want you, Finn.’

Serena held her breath, waited. She didn’t think it was possible for him to look even more tortured, but he did.

‘You have to leave.’ He stabbed his fingers through his damp hair, then pawed down his face. ‘Please, Serena, just go. I don’t know how long I can hold on.’

Realisation hit and her entire world narrowed to this point. This man. ‘So don’t. Let go.’

Though her insides trembled, she commanded her feet to move deeper into the shadows and reached up to grip the zipper hook at the side of her dress. Slowly she tugged downward.

Fists clenching, he shook his head. ‘Stop. Just stop. I’m on the edge here, Serena, and I can’t control myself with you. I don’t think you’ll like that.’

As if he’d tossed her into a bramble bush, her skin prickled all over with the flash replay of violent hands gripping her throat, twisting her wrists, pinning her down—

No. No! This man was Finn. Granted, she’d never seen him so dark before, and it made her wonder if she was missing something, but still... ‘I can handle it. I can handle you. I’m stronger than that, Finn.’ Clearly he lacked faith in himself but she trusted him. Completely. Utterly.

She dragged the single beaded shoulder strap down her arm and teased the satin past her plunge bra to her waist.

His throat convulsed. ‘Don’t you dare, Serena. Don’t you dare.’

She hurled his words from the yacht in Monaco so long ago back at him, amazed at how far they’d come, how far they’d travelled. ‘Oh, Finn, you should know better than to challenge me. Especially in that gorgeous husky voice of yours.’

Shimmying, she eased the rucked material past her hips and the pewter satin rustled to the floor to pool at her feet. Leaving her standing in a black plunge bra, tiny lace panties and studded heels. Now, if she could just breathe she might get through this.

With his shirt agape, she could see his chest heave and the way he looked at her—with such heat. Such fierce desire and molten need.

A look so hot she melted beneath his gaze, pooling like gasoline, brandishing her earthy colours. Raw, elemental and utterly flammable.

‘Serena,’ he growled. ‘I’m hanging on by a thread here, baby girl.’

‘You know what, Finn? I love it when you call me that.’ To think this man could have any women in the world and yet wanted her intimately, with such desperation, made her feel invincible. Confident. Beautiful. A real woman for the first time in her life.

He pointed at the door. ‘You’ve got three seconds to run. Three.’

Up came her chin as she walked towards him with a sway in her hips she’d never before possessed, and then she pressed her hand to his hot flesh, felt the rapid thump of his heart beneath her palm.

‘Two,’ he bit out. Sweat glimmered on his skin and his broad shoulders quaked as he fought the immense power of his body. ‘I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.’

‘I know you won’t.’

No more waiting. Avoiding. If this signalled the end of them, the end of their friendship, so be it. She didn’t want another friend. She wanted a lover—the only man she’d ever truly desired.

‘The fight is over, Finn.’

‘One,’ he said fiercely. ‘You’re making the biggest mistake of your life here, baby.’

‘Then so be it.’

Snap.