Guiding her into the suite with a hand low on her spine, he stepped deeper into the room. Only to stop short. His senses went on alert. There was someone here.
Damn it, there was more traffic through this supposedly secure room than through the lobby. Which of course meant it was one of his friends.
Elliot Starc rose from the sofa and from Mari’s gasp beside him, clearly she recognized the world-famous race-car driver…and underwear model.
Rowan swallowed a curse. “Good morning, Elliot. Did you get booted out of your own room?”
Laughing, Elliot took Mari’s hand lightly and ignored Rowan’s question. “Princess, it’s an honor to meet you.”
“Mr. Starc, you’re one of Rowan’s Brotherhood friends, I assume.”
Elliot’s eyebrows shot up. “You told her?”
“We talk.” Among other things.
“Well, color me stunned. That baby was lucky to have landed in Rowan’s room. Our Interpol connections kept all of you safe while bringing this to a speedy conclusion.”
Crap. The mention of Interpol hung in the air, Mari’s eyes darting to his.
Oblivious to the gaffe, Elliot continued, “Which brings me to my reason for being here. I’ve emailed a summary of the existing security detail, but I need to get back to training, get my mind back in the game so I don’t set more than my hair on fire.”
Rowan pulled a tight smile. “Thanks, buddy.”
Mari frowned. “Interpol?”
Elliot turned sharply to Rowan. “You said you told her about the Brotherhood.”
“Classmates. I told her we’re classmates.” He didn’t doubt she would keep his secret safe, but knowing wouldn’t help her and anything that didn’t help was harmful. “You, my friend, made a mighty big assumption for someone who should know better.”
“She’s a princess. You’ve been guarding her.” Elliot scratched his sheared hair. “I thought… Ah, hell. Just…” Throwing his hands out and swiping the air as if that explained it all, Elliot spun on his heel and walked out the door.
Mari sat hard, sinking like a stone on the edge of the sofa. “You’re with Interpol?” She huffed on a long sigh. “Of course you’re with Interpol.”
“I’m a physician. That’s my primary goal, my mission in life.” He paused, unable to dodge the truth as he kneeled in front of her. “But yes, I help out Interpol on occasion with freelance work in the area. No one thinks twice about someone like me wandering around wealthy fundraisers or traveling to remote countries.”
He could see her closing down, pulling away.
“Mari?”
“It’s your job. I understand.”
“Are you angry with me for not telling you?”
“Why would you? It’s not my secret to know. Your friend…he assumed more about us than he should. But you know I won’t say a word. I understand well what it’s like to be married to your work.”
Her words came out measured and even, her body still, her spine taking on that regal “back off” air that shouted of generations of royalty. “Mari, this doesn’t have to mean things change between us. If anything we can work together.”
“Work, right…” Her amber eyes flickered with something he couldn’t quite pin down.
“Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. It’s all just a lot to process, this today. Issa yesterday.”
He cradled her shoulders in his hands. She eased away.
“Mari, it’s okay to shout at me if you’re mad. Or to cry about Issa. I’m here for you,” he said, searching for the right way to approach her.
“Fine. You want me to talk? To yell? You’ve got it. I would appreciate your acting like we’re equal rather than stepping into your benevolent physician shoes because no one would dare to contradict the man who does so much for the world.” She shrugged free of his grip.
“Excuse me for trying to be a nice guy.” He held up his hands.
“You’re always the nice guy.” She shot to her feet. “The saint. Giving out comfort, saving the world, using that as a wall between you and other people.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He stood warily, watching her pace.
“There you go. Get mad at me.” She stopped in front of him, crossing her arms over her chest. “At least real emotions put us on an even footing. Oh, wait, we’re not even. You’re the suave doctor/secret agent. I’m the awkward genius who locks herself away in a lab.”
“Are we really returning to the old antagonistic back-and-forth way of communicating?” he asked. Her words felt damn unfair when he was working his tail off to help her through a rough time. “I thought we’d moved past that.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. You’re a smart man.”
“Actually, you’re the certified genius here. How about you explain it to me.”
“You want me to cry and grieve and open myself up to you.” She jabbed his chest with one finger, her voice rising with every word. “But what about you? When do you open up to me? When are you going to give me something besides the saintly work side of your life?”
“I’ve told you things about my past,” he answered defensively.
“To be fair, yes you have,” she conceded without backing down. “Some things. Certainly not everything. And when have you let me in? You’re fine with things as long as you’re the one doling out comfort. But accepting it? No way. Like now. You have every reason to grieve for Issa.”
“She’s in good hands, well cared for,” he said through gritted teeth.
“See? There you go doing just what I said. You want me to cry and be emotional, but you—” she waved a hand “—you’re just fine. Did you even allow yourself to grieve for your brother?”
His head snapped back, her words smacking him even as she kept her hands fisted at her sides. “Don’t you dare use my brother against me. That has nothing to do with what we’re discussing now.”
“It has everything to do with what we’re talking about. But if I’m mistaken, then explain it to me. Explain what you’re feeling.”
She waited while he searched for the right words, but everything he’d offered her so far hadn’t worked. He didn’t have a clue what to say to reassure her. And apparently he waited too long.