Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
I smile and reflect back to the days when it was really that simple. Just us, plotting our perfect world without the burden of real life getting in the way. There was no debilitating sense of hopelessness or fear. There were no challenges like temptation and wrong decisions. There was no father trying to make choices for me and telling me who my prince should be. There were no threats. There was no Jake Sharp. “If only it were still that easy.”
“It can be.” Heather slips off her glasses and looks at me, a thousand reassuring words in her eyes. “Most of the time we make it complicated ourselves.” She swings her legs off the lounger and stands. “I don’t know what’s stopping you, apart from your father, and I know you don’t care what he thinks. You so obviously mean more to Jake than a contract.” She dips and kisses my cheek. “You should go see your father and that wonderful stepmother of yours. She wants a birthday kiss from her favorite little girl. Catch you in a bit.”
I watch as Heather strolls off, giving Jake a shake of her head as she goes. He doesn’t react to it, doesn’t frown or even raise his eyebrows in question, but he does look across to me. I avert my eyes and stand, set on finding my father when all I want to do is go home and hide under my bedcovers.
As I make my way up the garden, I conjure up the fortitude I need to face my dad and my unbearable stepmother. Ten paces in, no fortitude to be found. In fact, I grow more despondent by the second. I know I’m going to find my father holding court in his elaborate bar in the orangery, and I just know that there will be some boring associate of his, ready to please my father and displease me.
“Oh!” I yelp as a result of an abrupt tug on my arm, pulling me into a nearby recess at the entrance of the orangery. A palm covers my mouth and a hard body holds me against the wall. I blink rapidly, trying to focus on Jake’s dark eyes, his lips almost touching the back of his hand where it’s lain upon my mouth, keeping me quiet.
“I let my personal emotion compromise my judgment once when I was in the service,” he whispers quietly, searching my eyes. “Two of my friends died. I got shot. And then I was deemed too volatile and unstable to continue my duties.”
I still, but my heart pumps faster. Jake’s dark eyes shut, robbing me of the comfort they’re offering while he spills his story, rushed but clear. His nostrils flare. This is taking everything he has. “The only thing that mattered to me was stripped away after one bad decision because I let my personal life affect my duty. I swore I’d never let that happen again in any element of my life, Camille. I’ve always upheld that promise.” I can hear the pain in his words, and he breathes in deeply. “Until you,” he finishes softly, giving me his eyes.
I choke on a sob, making him lift his palm a little, his face blurring as tears threaten. His face is straight, but his eyes are swimming with emotion.
Then he swallows before he goes on. “I can’t make another wrong move again.”
I’m instantly fearful of what he means by that. His face is still expressionless. Why now? In the middle of my father’s garden party, why is he telling me this now? That woman. That woman in the picture is the personal emotion he’s talking about—the emotion that made him question his judgment. Am I making him question his judgment?
He goes to speak again, but hesitates for a moment, gathering strength. Then he squeezes his eyes shut, and my heart slows in my chest. He looks beaten, ready to give up. A treacherous tear slips down my cheek and hits his hand, and he opens his eyes. The conflict in them floors me. “My need to protect you goes a lot fucking deeper than a well-paid job, Camille.” He whispers the words so softly, defying the hulk of a man that he is.
I breathe deeply in relief, trying to see past the tears welling in my eyes, and Jake drops his hand from my mouth and steps back, out of the recess into public view. He shrugs, like he’s apologizing, and my heart finally kick-starts again, skipping all of the lower gears and roaring straight into a thundering rush. The activity of the party is a distant hum, and the people are a blur of lethargic movements in the distance. All there, but not there. The world is happening around us, oblivious to Jake and me trapped in our bubble, and I realize in this moment as I stare into his eyes that he won’t pull me into his darkness. He wants me to help him find his way out. He feels trapped. I’ve felt like that. I know how it feels to see no way to the light. I had Heather to help me. Jake has no one. Except me. I can’t walk away from him. I have to help him.