“No, I give them the gold.”

“Malcolm!” I hit him playfully. He grabs the back of my head and leads me down the street, where a guy approaches us quite frantically.

“Saint, any comments on your father’s acquisition of Edge?”

Malcolm puts himself between me and the guy and continues walking me toward the car, silent, leaving the guy behind.

“I admire you.” I shoot him an awed glance and shake my head. “How you so easily dismiss the attention.”

Then I loosen the elastic band on my hair and pull it to my sides to use it as a curtain to hide my face. He watches me in confusion. I can feel people staring at us now, and uncomfortably, I grab the aviators he just pulled out and slip them on my face.

He looks down at me with a half smile and eyes narrowed in speculation. “Want a fake mustache with that?”

“I’m good.” I grin.

I follow him to the car and we don’t bother to set the bag in the trunk. The car is super spacious anyway. He opens the door before Otis can fully make it and we ease inside.

“Rachel . . .” He falls sober, plucking off the aviators.

I’m smiling, but I also feel ashamed. “Sin, I’m sorry.” I drop my face. “It’s going to take me a while to get used to the attention you get.”

“Don’t notice it. Don’t give it even a moment’s thought. I never do.”

“Hmm.” My mouth twists wryly. “It’s not only the attention, but wondering what lies they’ll put out . . . having no control over that.” I feel my heart squeeze a little as our eyes meet, him sitting across from me, broad and muscular and drop-dead gorgeous. And I admit the closest thing I can say to I love you. “It’s hard when everyone stares at the man you want, and you want him to want nobody but you.”

He simply says two words that melt me.

“He does.”

THE TOY

When I come out in my bikini, Malcolm is leaning on the railing. He seems to be talking to some guys out on the lake. He’s in swim trunks and a polo, his wide torso stretching his shirt in a way that I can see the muscled grooves on his back as he leans forward.

I hear the guys down on the lake daring him to take out his Jet Ski and race them. They’re boasting quite loudly that they’re going to kick his ass this time. “It’s long due, you fucking bastard!”

In reply to that, Saint lets go a low, throaty laugh, and he yells down at them, “Nah, I’m with a friend today!”

“Lady friend or lady friends?” they bait. But Saint doesn’t bite, and I hear the zoom of Jet Ski motors as they leave.

Barefoot, I kind of stand a few feet away, not knowing what to say. Every muscle on his back and shoulders is visible through the stretch of his shirt as Malcolm jerks a hand over his hair and then he pulls out his phone, starts dabbling.

“Do you know everyone on the lake?”

When he hears my voice, he turns, and the smile he’s wearing fades. There’s a breeze and I hate that my nipples are quick to scream, We’re cold!

I rub my arm and he says, lowering his body sideways onto a nearby chaise, “Come sit.”

He pats the space beside him, and though he looks in control, I see him inhale, very slowly and very deeply. I take the chaise next to his instead, smiling and feeling shy.

“This is . . . well, I guess you bought me this. Thank you.”

He doesn’t look at the bikini; he’s looking at my face, almost as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “You’re welcome.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and his voice drops a decibel. “You’re making my mouth water.”

I stare at his sparkling green eyes, at his seductive smile, not knowing what to say.

A nervous laugh leaves me.

But he just stares, his extremely intense attention homed in on me. Water laps against the boat as the Chicago wind does its thing.

“Do you believe your father’s interest in Edge is purely business?” I ask him, remembering the reporter we just encountered.

“He’s competitive. I’m like him in that respect.” His lips curl in a sneer as he turns to contemplate the lake water.

“He’s competing against . . .”

“Me.”

“Goading you?”

“Using you.” He levels his stare on me. “He sees you as my weakness. He’s right. He’s waiting to see if I rise to the challenge. He’s been wanting to show me he still has power over me for years.”

Silence.

The heavy kind that weighs on your heart.