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“Not before she locked up and tortured my son, whom, should I remind you, you kidnapped.”
“That’s because you burned my whole fucking factory, Jonathan. People died. Aiden didn’t.”
“Alicia did.”
“So did Abigail. So did I, for nine years, in case you forgot.”
I arrive in time to find the two men standing toe-to-toe with each other. Jonathan’s the first to look my way.
His eyes instantly darken to a terrifying colour. I remain frozen in place from the mere force of it.
What? What is it?
I stare down at myself and realise that not only have I come down barefoot, but I’m also wearing the f
limsy nightgown from last night. My hair must appear like a mess and so must my face.
In my attempt to stop whatever war they were going to unleash, I’ve shown up like this.
Layla catches up to me, panting. “People with long legs suck.”
“Why didn’t you tell me I came down looking like this?” I hiss at her.
“I tried. You didn’t listen.”
I’m about to say something else when a large presence appears in front of me.
Jonathan.
I don’t know why my heart skips a violent beat whenever he looks down at me with those steel eyes. It’s like I’m the only thing that matters in his environment and he doesn’t hesitate to show that fact.
Then why did he regard me last night as if I were insane?
Shooing that thought away, I take a moment to appreciate how elegant and larger than life he appears in his black tailored suit. Seriously, if he ever considers a career in modelling, he’ll ace it — like everything in his life, basically.
I never knew I had a thing for men in suits until Jonathan came along. Or more accurately, he’s the only man in a suit that I have a thing for.
Though a thing is putting it mildly. My nipples tighten against the thin nightgown at the view, and something tells me it’s not due to the cold air coming from the entrance.
Jonathan removes his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders, and then he picks me up and carries me in his arms.
Just like that.
Just like it’s a given.
A soft gasp leaves me, but the sound is swallowed by how warm he feels, how good he smells.
Will I ever get used to this? Worse, will I ever forget about this?
Layla makes a face at Jonathan’s back, obviously still holding a grudge about the way he chased her away. Ethan’s lips pull up into a mysterious smile as he watches us like a cat who’s caught a mouse.
Jonathan takes me back to the room, his strides firm and purposeful. He walks with the same confidence he exudes — there’s no hint of doubt. But this time, it’s almost as if he’s angry.
He lowers me to the ground, my bare feet getting swallowed by the plush carpet, then he kicks the door shut.
When he faces me, I’m pinned in place by the darkness in his gaze.
It’s almost as if he’s been saving it and he’s now unleashing it.
