Finding Trust (Centre Games) by Natalie Gayle Page A

didn’t seem to make him that happy when he clearly loved being a musician and was obviously totally fabulous at it?
    She slowly turned her head and looked him dead on. He braced, waiting for it.
    “So this thing between us, how do I know it’s real and not just something that you enjoy as a benefit of the job?”
    Her question was reasonable but still stung like hell. He asked himself whether he would be thinking something similar if he was in her position and the only honest answer he could come up with was yes.
    “I guess the answer is that you don’t know.” Rihanna snapped back so fast he could have sworn he’d hit her physically with his words. Guess she wasn’t expecting him to be honest, he almost laughed to himself.
    “I think that you are getting an idea of what I’m about. It seems you trust me. So I’m asking you to believe me when I say that this connection we have is unique for me as well.” She looked at him long and hard, her eyes assessing as if to see whether he would give any indication that he was being anything less than truthful. He didn’t flinch as he looked her straight in the eye.
    Her face broke into a smile that warmed him from head to toe. She wanted to believe him and thought he was telling the truth.
    He held out his arms and she moved into the protective circle within. Rihanna rested her head on his shoulder and just enjoyed the closeness and the warmth of his embrace. After a long moment, he turned his head, seeking her mouth with his lips.
    It was a leisurely exploration for both of them. His lips encouraged her to explore his mouth further. He slid his hand into her hair to gently pull her head back so he could deepen the touch.
    The sensual haze of his touch was broken by the vibrating of his phone on the nearby glass table top. Brayden pulled away reluctantly and moved from the frothing water.
    “It might be my team,” he said over his shoulder, one hand reaching for a towel and the other grabbing the phone.
    Rihanna held her breath, not knowing what to feel. One second, she was kissing Bray as if her life depended on it—all thoughts on him. The next, her mind was shot back to the potential news that a phone call could mean. Would it be good news, bad news, or none at all? Her stomach decided on a gut-wrenching fear and the blood began to pound in her ears. Goose bumps had broken out all over her skin, even though the temperature was a balmy thirty degrees Celsius and the water was pleasantly heated.
    He’d turned away from her and moved towards the house, instinctively looking for privacy to take the call. Her mind immediately jumped to worst-case scenarios.
    “Hey, Stud—what took you so long?” the Rat Brat asked.
    “Just taking a little afternoon dip, while we wait to hear from you lot.” He listened to her amused chuckling on the other end. The message couldn’t be too bad if the Brat could keep up her easy teasing.
    “I bet,” she said, sounding completely unconvinced.
    “What’s the status?”
    “Good news—operation went successfully. They guys caught the tangos by surprise and it all went pretty smoothly.”
    “Define pretty smoothly?” he asked suspiciously. Any day you walked away instead of being carried in his business was classified as an astounding success.
    “The target has a few cuts and bruises and was fairly dehydrated. Nothing a good night’s sleep and a couple of bags of fluid won’t fix.”
    “And?”
    “Two tangos were eliminated but at least six others were identified as being part of the operation.”
    “Great. Seems bigger than we thought,” he added sarcastically. “Do we know who they are yet?”
    “The guys are running checks now with the information we have taken off the bodies and from the facility. First impression is East European, but something seems off with that. We’re going to dig deeper.”
    “Fuck—that seriously sucks canine testicles,” he said, much louder than he had intended. Bloody East Europeans had