Page 81 of Risky Obsession
She shrugged. “That’s your question answered. And you’re trying to avoid why Aria told me not to trust you.”
“Okay, you’re right. I was avoiding it. But you win. I’ll tell you my rotten story, and you can be the judge of whether or not I’m to be trusted.”
She rubbed her hand along the leg of her jeans again as if her palms were sweating.
I stared at the road ahead and took my mind back to a time when I was pissed off at the world for taking the only person I loved from me. “I was twenty-three when I learned my pops was dying of prostate cancer, so I checked myself out of the Navy to look after him. Three months later he died.”
“I’m sorry about your pops. That must’ve been awful.”
“Yeah. It sucked. After his death, for nearly a full year, I fought with my parents and sister, both in and out of the courts, over Pops’ decision to leave his antique shop to me.”
“He didn’t leave them anything?”
“Oh, he did. His house, car, and bank accounts. But they’re greedy.” There were many more apt words to describe my fucking parents, but I bit my tongue.
“Okay. And . . .?”
“I was still grieving for Pops and figuring out what the hell to do with my life, when I met Indiana.”
“Indiana Smith, the marina salvage expert.” Surprise rang in her tone.
I tilted my head at her. “You know her?”
“Oh, just, um, she was on the news.”
“Yeah.” That was true, but I had a rotten feeling Tory knew Indiana more than she let on.
“What about Indiana?” she asked.
“We dated for six months.”
Shock registered in her eyes as she leveled her gaze at me, convincing methat she absolutely did know Indiana, but not well enough to know our connection.
“One day, while scuba diving, Indiana and I found an ancient urn on an old shipwreck. Two days later, I did a stupid fucking move that I have regretted ever since—I stole the urn from Indiana.”
Tory sucked air through her teeth. “I bet that didn’t go down well.”
“Nope. Because of my knowledge of antiques, I thought I knew better than her. I sold the urn for a lousy two hundred bucks. I lost a lot more than just Indiana when I stole that urn.” I clenched and unclenched my jaw. “I lost my integrity and my friends. I’ve been trying to make up for it ever since.”
I glanced at her, and she seemed to be studying me as if searching for more to my confession.
“So, there you go. My dirty fucking laundry has been aired. You make up your own mind whether I’m to be trusted after that stupid stunt I did a decade ago.”
My heart pounded with a mixture of emotions: guilt, regret, and a flicker of hope that she might see me for who I truly was despite my terrible mistake.
“Am I continuing on to this castle?” I asked. “Or do you want me to head back to Berlin so you can go home?”
“What? Don’t be so dramatic.” She rolled her eyes.
“Me! Dramatic. You’re the one who’s been giving me the silent treatment, only to shatter that with a fucked-up statement about not trusting me.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t trust you. I said Aria didn’t.”
“But you believe her.”
She heaved a massive sigh and did that thigh-rubbing thing again. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been so confused over Aria’s statement not to trust you because . . .”
“Because what?” I couldn’t hold the frustration from my voice.