Free When I'm With You Part IV by Beth Kery

walked away, but then his deep voice penetrated the crack of the door again.
    â€œAre you okay? Did something happen?”
    She stared at the enormous king-sized bed in front of her—the bed where the three of them had become drunk on pleasure three years ago.
Did something happen?
She’d say it had.
    Genevieve had been forever changed on the night Max had offered his young wife to his super-sharp, right-hand man . . . the night she’d burned beneath Sean’s touch.
    â€œI’m fine,” she said blankly, her eyes glued to the bed as vivid memories played before her mind’s eye . . . memories brought to the forefront by being in the room where it’d all happened.
    â€œYeah, right,” she heard him reply wryly.
    â€œWill you just
leave me alone
?”
    â€œThat’s likely.”
    This time, she sensed for certain that he’d walked away. A minute later she still hadn’t moved. They passed within feet of her.
    â€œYou’re acting very rudely,” the woman accused petulantly as she moved down the hallway.
    â€œYeah, I’ve been told I have a problem with that,” Sean replied evenly.
    â€œIs there someone here? Who were you talking to?”
    But then their voices faded. She heard the front door open and shut, and knew Sean was escorting the female out of the tight Sauren-Kennedy Solutions security. He’d get her a cab. He may have grown up poor, friendless, and fatherless, one of the “conduct disordered” terrors of the mean streets of New Orleans, but Sean’s manners were impeccable.
    Genevieve still hadn’t moved when he returned a few minutes later. She stood stock-still, her back against the door like she thought she was on the penthouse’s window ledge with the city looming below her toes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the handle turn. He spoke softly again near the crack in the closed door.
    â€œYou’d better open up, girl. You don’t really think that excuse of a lock is gonna keep me from you, do you?”
    Her pulse threatened to leap right off her neck. She’d never heard him call another female
gull
, his drawl softening the “r” until it was only barely audible.
    The sound of it on his tongue had always felt like a caress.
    She spun around and flipped the lock. Her gaze remained fixed on the carpet as she stormed past him. She grabbed the bag she’d dropped in the foyer and reached for the handle on the front door. His hand rose behind her, shutting the door with a precise snap.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œWhat makes you think something happened?” she asked irritably. She was hyperaware of him just inches away, leaning down over her. Heat resonated off his body.
    â€œ
Don’t
, Genny. Haven’t you punished me enough by avoiding me all this time? You know I’d never have wanted you to see what you just saw. Not in a million years.”
    Her soughing breath was the only thing that broke the silence that followed. Her chin dropped to her chest. She
did
know it. She may have her doubts about him, but she knew instinctively Sean Kennedy would never purposefully hurt her. The havoc he’d wreaked unintentionally on her life was another matter altogether. “The house in Lake Forest burned down,” she whispered. “It’s . . . gone. Everything.”
    He placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around. His tall shadow loomed over her. She blinked in disorientation when he switched on the crystal chandelier. He stared. The color washed out of his face.
    â€œCome ’ere,” he growled, taking her hand. Genevieve stumbled after him into the living room. A bar lined the north wall. He slid one of the suspended goblets from the rack and grabbed an open bottle of wine. The crimson liquid splashed into the bowl of the glass.
    â€œDrink it,” he ordered, all traces of his accent absent from the terse command.