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I jog up the steps in my slacks and jacket, and when she opens the door, all irritation leaves her eyes when she sees the flowers in my hands.
“You’re early.” But there’s no censure when she takes the flowers and buries her nose in them.
“I know. I wanted to see you.”
“Well, come on in. I’m still putting on my makeup.”
I follow her back to her bathroom, and just as I used to do before, I hop onto the countertop and watch her apply her makeup.
“We used to do this all the time,” I murmur and lift a tube of mascara, studying it.
“And you’d make me laugh and mess up,” she says with a snort. “You big jerk.”
“You loved it.”
“No way. I wasted a lot of makeup. Do you know how expensive this stuff is?”
I just smile at her in the mirror, and she goes back to brushing something pink onto her cheeks.
“You don’t need the makeup. You’re gorgeous without it.”
“I like it.” She sets down the brush and starts on her eyes. “What did you do today?”
“I studied.”
That surprises her enough to have her gaze flying to meet mine. “What are you studying?”
“Lucien gave me a book last night.” I shrug a shoulder. “How was work today?”
“Good. Great, actually. Some new pieces arrived that I’m in love with, and I finally sold a sofa that I’ve had for several years. It just needed the right buyer.”
She grins, examines her handiwork in the mirror, and then rushes into the bedroom to change her clothes.
“Stay in there!” she calls out.
“Okay.” I fiddle with a brush, listening to her rustling around. And then she comes to the door of the bathroom and does a little turn.
My mouth goes dry.
“Holy crap.” I swallow hard and take her in. Her red hair is sleek and wavy, and her blue dress hugs every delectable curve. I hop off the counter. “Come here.”
“Did I forget something?”
She wanders into the room. I turn her away from me to face the mirror as I stand behind her and meet her eyes in the glass.
“You are every dream I’ve ever had.” I kiss the ball of her shoulder and slide my hand over her stomach. “Every wish. Jesus, you’re all I think about. And when I was overseas, going through hell on Earth, it was the thought of your sweet face that got me through each day.”
“Jack.” She whispers my name and raises her hand to cup my cheek. “You got really romantic in your old age.”
I smile against the tender flesh of her neck.
“I should have said all of this and more years ago. I should have come home and fought for you. Apologized.”
“It’s happening the way it’s meant to.” She turns in my arms to face me. “I always hate it when Millie or Miss Sophia says that, but it’s true, Jack. This is how our story was meant to go. At least, we made it back around to the good stuff.”
I grin and lean in to gently rub my lips over hers. She inhales and pushes her fingers into my hair, holding on as I kiss her slowly, remembering every touch, every sigh.
And just as my hands rise to cup her cheeks, the mirror above the sink falls and shatters into a million pieces.
We jump apart, startled.
“Don’t move.” I pick her up and walk out of the bathroom. “You’re not wearing shoes.”
“What the hell was that, Jack?”
“The mirror fell.”
She shakes her head. “Things don’t just fall like that. Not for no reason.”
“Stop.” I kiss her cheek. “It just fell, Daph. Now, where’s your dustpan and broom?”
Chapter Seven
“I will have you removed if you don’t stop. I have a little system of my own.”
-Charles Manson
“You little slut,” he mutters as he watches his Daphne smile coyly at that piece of shit, Jackson. “Don’t you dare let him touch you!”
But she can’t hear him. No, she just lets Jackson put his filthy hands on her and leans into him. God, it makes Horace sick to his stomach.
If he still had a stomach.
“You ungrateful little bitch,” he spits out. He wants to reach through the mirror so badly. To kill that asshole with his own two hands and then punish his girl the way she needs to be punished.
The anger is swift and all-consuming, and when Daphne lifts her face for a kiss, he loses all control.
He bangs his fists against the glass in fury. Suddenly, it breaks, and he can’t see them anymore.
“Little cunt,” he mutters, retreating from Daphne’s home and flying up into the sky. “That little brat. What is she thinking? I got rid of him once, sent him away, and now he’s back? Unacceptable.”
Breaking the mirror depleted Horace’s energy, and he has work to do—so much work to do. More than he originally thought. Obviously, Daphne has lessons to learn.
