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Actually, I haven’t seen a single staff member since Jacob himself let me in at his front door, and it’s a four-story, thirty-million-pound, gleamingly clean townhouse.
So… where the hell is everyone? And where’s dinner? Where even is the cutlery on the table?
“Ella.”
I flinch, my eyes darting back to his. Jacob frowns.
“How can you be with him?”
I take a breath, swallowing.
“Because I’ve seen the real him. Because I know he wasn’t responsible for my mother’s—”
“No, I mean how can you be with him with the sort ofmanhe is? The sort of man who would see a woman his good friend was interested in, and take her for himself?”
My mouth thins.
“You mean Matilde.”
“Yes,” he snarls, the sudden viciousness in his tone shaking me.
His fingers dance over the candle in front of him, twirling through the flames.
“Heknewmy father liked her. And he knew we were hurting from the same pain that Matilde was hurting from.”
“You mean your mother and Matilde’s ex-husband,” I say quietly.
His eyes narrow lethally.
“Yes. Noel knew that, and hestilltook her, when we were the ones that needed her. We were the ones that needed a family.Not him. Not the man who had no family, who just wanted to laugh in my father’s face!”
My heart twists, seeing the pain in his eyes and lacing his words.
“But Jacob, weren’t you just talking about course-correcting, though? The drive to do what is necessary—”
He barks a cold laugh.
“That wasn’tnecessary. It was cruel. He married her to spite my father, and me.”
I look away, my brow furrowing.
“I’m so sorry, Jacob—”
“Everyone’s always sorry,” he says quietly. “I know you of all people understand that, Ella.”
“Well, it seems like it did course correct. I mean she left Noel for—”
“She was too late,” he hisses. “That wasn’t because she knew she’d made a mistake. That was because she was doing the same thing Noel had done to my father. She was spitting in his face. She was neverwithmy father. She was just spending time with him to try and push Noel into giving a fuck.”
The words stab into my heart, tugging and ripping at that jealous thread inside of me that arises when I think about that time in Noel’s life.
“Jacob,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, but could wepleasechange the subject—”
“No,” he snaps, his hand twisting over the fire.
My skin begins to shiver.
“It wasn’t a course correct; it was a chess move.”
