Risky (Torn Between Two Lovers #2)(24)

“You make it sound like nothing is my fault.” There was humor in Trace’s voice.

“I’m sure you’re guilty of many things, but not your brothers’ problems. Both of them are wealthy, grown men who can choose what they want to do.”

“What am I guilty of then?” His tone was teasing.

You’re guilty of breaking my heart over a family that I’ve never even met. You’re guilty of making me care whether you’re all put together again, even though I’ve always hated the Walker name in the past. You’re guilty of doing things to me, making me feel emotions I’ve never had before. And it’s starting to mess with my head.

I took a deep breath. “I think you’re incredibly bossy, and you hate it when things don’t go exactly the way you want. I think your control is so important to you because if you ever lost it, it would make you less like your father. In your eyes, that would be almost unforgivable. I think you care about your brothers’ wellbeing more than you want to admit. And I think you’re a wonderfully generous man, but that’s a side of you that you don’t let anyone see.”

“I think you’re crazy.” Trace was frowning now.

I raised a brow, mimicking his expression when he was annoyed. “You think so?”

He nodded curtly. “I’m an * because I have to be. Business gets nasty.”

“You’re distant because you have to be. Do you think I don’t understand that?” I’d spent years being distant, having only books as friends while I stared at the same concrete walls and bars every single day. I got it. Obviously, he didn’t. For him, the distance wasn’t deliberate. It was the way he lived his life to protect himself.

“Maybe you do understand,” he said grudgingly. Trace stood and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

I knew that he was changing the subject because he wasn’t comfortable with talking about himself, but I let him off the hook. Hell, sometimes there were things I didn’t want to deal with either. I let him tug me to my feet and I followed in his wake as he made his way to his home office.

“You asked about the cell phone. I had some things delivered for you, things I knew you would need.”

And he thinks he’s an *? The breath whooshed from my lungs as he arrived at his destination and pointed toward a pile of goods that took up half of the floor space in his office. “What did you do?” I asked breathlessly.

He’d already provided me a new wardrobe to play my part. Did I really need all this?

“Your new phone.” He unplugged the latest model iPhone from the charger and handed it to me. “I think it has everything you’ll need installed.”

I took the cell from him automatically, still gaping at the ton of things he thought it was necessary for me to have.

A new laptop computer.

A digital camera.

A Kindle e-reader?

I reached out and touched the marvelous device that was capable of bringing me something I dearly loved: unlimited books.

“I thought you’d like it. I opened an account for you, and loaded it with funds from a gift card. You can get as many books as you want.”

Oh. My. God. He’d went so far overboard on what I really needed, but it touched me that he’d been listening to me when I told him I loved to read. “Trace, I don’t need all of these things. They aren’t necessities.”

“Some women would argue about that,” he answered drily.

“I wouldn’t. I know exactly what I need to survive.” I picked up another box. “What’s this?”

He shrugged. “Jewelry. If we’re engaged, I’ve obviously given you stuff. Gifts.”


I dropped the box instantly, recoiling from the thought of jewelry. “I don’t want it.”

“Don’t, Eva. I know how you feel about the past, but these are gifts.”

“Not jewelry.” I shook my head and backed away from the plethora of electronics, jewelry and gifts.

“Yes. If we’re together, I’d make you accept every damn thing I wanted to give you.” He turned and strode to his desk and brought back a small box that didn’t look new. He held it out to me. “Your engagement ring.”

I swallowed hard and tried to breathe. I couldn’t wear expensive jewelry. “I can’t.” My voice was cracking with emotion, and tears sprung to my eyes.

Trace opened the black velvet box and took the ring out. “Yes, you can.” He took my hand and slowly worked the ring onto my finger. “It’s necessary.”

I held out my hand when he was finished, noticing that I was actually shaking. The ring was stunning. Princess cut and probably several carats, it sparkled with a fire that was nearly blinding. “It’s beautiful, but it’s enormous. What if I lose it?”

Shit, I’d be terrified every single day with this rock on my finger.

“It belonged to my mom, so I’d prefer you didn’t take it off,” he answered huskily.

I gaped up at him. “Oh, my God. Can’t we pick something else?” The giant diamond had sentimental value to him, and I didn’t want to be responsible for losing something that belonged to his mother.

He grinned at me. “No. I’m the oldest son. My fiancée would be expected to wear it, unless you hate it.”