Untrue Colors (Entangled Select Suspense)

He took off his jacket and threw it on the back of a chair. The bow tie came off next, and then the cufflinks. By the time Henry had finished taking off his rich man’s uniform, he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, unbuttoned the neck of his shirt, and tossed his shoes to the foyer.

 

Alex could feel his frustration and wanted to make him understand. She found a decent merlot in the bar and poured herself a glass. Henry moved to the window. His eyes faced the illuminated city on the hill behind them.

 

“Tell me everything,” Henry insisted, still staring out into the night.

 

“I can’t.”

 

He bristled and returned his focus from the view to Alex. “Then tell me what you can. Our partnership won’t work otherwise. I need to know if someone’s going to break down my door and take you away.”

 

Since that possibility had increased threefold since running into Brian, Henry should know something about her past. Without a baseline of knowledge, he wouldn’t stand a chance against Luc.

 

“Where do I begin?” she asked more to herself than to Henry.

 

He responded anyway. “As close to your identity as you can, because I’m not in the mood for either Gabe or Belinda right now.”

 

Perhaps she could share a blurred vision of her past. Enough to appease him without giving him the ability to hunt Luc down and get hurt. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to frame her next set of words with precision. “My father wasn’t an easy man to live with. He demanded perfect grades, appropriate activities, and conservative dress. I failed at all three. He didn’t think I would amount to anything if I didn’t refocus my life on my schoolwork. I disagreed. He threatened to disown me when I didn’t fall in line.”

 

The years of fighting with her father destroyed her sense of self. Even now, she couldn’t quite forgive him for the humiliating lectures in front of her peers and being sent to a new school when she didn’t fall in with the right sort of people.

 

Henry stepped closer, but Alex raised her hand to prevent him from interrupting. She needed to finish. “I disowned him before he could disown me. Europe had all the treasures a girl like me would want, so I booked a flight to Rome and disappeared. I even changed my name so no matter what I did in life, he couldn’t take the credit. I’m not proud of running away, but I was young and rebellious. And it worked out great for a while. I found my calling and lived a happy and comfortable life.”

 

Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat to continue. “I started in a position as a nobody at an auction house. I moved up fast, because I was good. I could see flaws no one else noticed. They paid me in cash, and I stayed in the background.”

 

Henry kept his eyes focused on her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why would an auction house trust you to make their appraisals without even a college degree?” The tone of his voice softened, and his anger seemed to be dissipating.

 

She took a sip of the wine, holding the glass with a trembling hand. “Instead of classes, I spent my time in high school at galleries and museums. Once I learn something, I almost never forget. With my ability to see flaws in paint and other details, I caught mistakes by some of the more established experts. They came to rely on me to inspect works before they bought or sold them.”

 

“Sounds like a nice life. What happened?” Henry stood over her now, every bit the English earl.

 

She savored her wine while deciding how much Henry should know. “I met a man I’d thought was the love of my life while doing an appraisal. I gave up everything for him. No one else had ever wanted me around. When he asked me to stay with him, I said yes. Who doesn’t say yes to her soul mate? I never told him my real identity. I would have, but things turned nasty so quickly.” She stretched her legs across the glass table. The red silk draped over the edge and rested on the floor.

 

Henry knelt by her side. He clasped her hands in his, a pained expression creasing his eyes. “Are you married?”

 

“No.” Her voice cracked as she tried to laugh at his question. “We didn’t last that long. After he discovered my desire to live more inside the law than out, he decided I was a liability. Suffice to say, he wants me eliminated, and I’m trying hard to avoid that fate.”

 

“Can I know your name?”

 

“No. My tormentor doesn’t play fair. I need to keep him away from my family and anyone else I care about. He’s already killed one man who tried to protect me. I’d rather take my own life than watch him kill the most important people to me.” Her face flushed red, and the tears came down, but she ignored them and continued to drink.

 

He sat next to her and removed the wineglass from her hand. Wrapping his arms around her, he embraced her misery. Her body shuddered, and sobs broke loose from the wall she’d erected around her past. Why did she tell Henry anything? He’d try to play the hero, and he’d be hurt. Somehow the thought made her tears flow faster.

 

Henry lifted her chin and stared at her face in the way she analyzed a painting. “Don’t ever think about taking your own life. Do you hear me? Ever.” His grip loosened, but he gritted his teeth as if holding back a harsher set of words.

 

She countered his anger by cradling his cheek in her hand and kissing him. His lips tasted like scotch, smoky and sweet. He kissed her back, yet left her in control. She indulged in his attention, pulling away when her body began to urge her forward to a place she still feared after Luc’s assaults. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder, and she allowed his strong arms to support her. They remained locked together for what seemed like hours. For the first time in forever, Alex felt safe.

 

He brushed his lips over her ear. “I can protect you if you let me.”

 

“No offense, Henry, but you’re not super qualified to be rescuing me from anyone.”

 

The overconfident professor actually grinned. “Did I ever tell you about my stint in the Royal Navy?”

 

“Simon mentioned you were a medic and a potato peeler? Not too much action in those jobs.” Luc and a gun versus Henry and a frying pan.

 

Laughter erupted from him.

 

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