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Like the length of the weekend, to be precise. That was the exact amount of time needed (seventy-two hours) to fully recover from his warm, passionate wrist grab. Only after all those days apart would I be able to think of things other than his lips covering various areas of my body come Monday morning.
I’d even used his comforting hug in his office as masturbation material over the weekend. My desperation knew no limits.
But on Monday, I got the same message from Damian. “Working from home today.”
This seemed odd, but who was I to say anything? The man had earned the right to work nude from his bed if he wanted to.
I just very much wanted to join him, even though I was positiveMs. Bennettwould not approve.
After what I’d learned from Legs and my encounter with Damian in the car, it was decided. He had something with Harper, and I needed to lay my childish fantasies to rest. Even though his surprise crème brûlée had made me think we might be getting married, that was not the case. High school Jessa needed to lie down and go to sleep. Forever.
I spent most of Monday switching between productive work mode and being mortified for being so asinine. Axel strolled up to my desk around four thirty, holding a sealed envelope in his hand.
“Hey, Jessa. Could you do me a favor?”
“Of course, Axel.”
“Take this up to the penthouse?”
“Sure.” I took the hefty envelope from him. “But why can’t you go?”
He sniffed, looking away. “Trace is up there. And this needs to go to Damian.”
I nodded slowly, beginning to understand just how serious the rift had gotten between the brothers. Uneasiness spread through me. I’d only ever known the Fairchild brothers to be solid. This new development felt unnatural and bizarre, as if science had suddenly discovered that gravity wasn’t real.
“Of course. I’m almost done for the day, so I’ll just wrap up here and then take this up before I leave, if that’s all right.”
“Sure. And here, you’ll need this in the elevator.” He tossed me a key card with a wink. “Just get it back to me another time, okay?”
I clutched the key card in my hand, nodding. “Thanks, Axel. I appreciate it.”
“And make sure Damian’s okay while you’re up there. He’s been going through something the past couple of days. I think you’ll be able to snap him out of it.”
Well, if that wasn’t equal parts cryptic and intriguing, I didn’t know what it was. I stuffed the card into one of the pockets I’d sewn into the folds of my dress and hurried to finish up at my desk. Now that I had the green light to visit Damian, I didn’t want to delay another minute. We hadn’t seen each other in almost four full days, which was too much.
All I wanted to know was if Damian felt as desperate and insane as I did.
Fifteen minutes later, I was packed up and heading for the penthouse elevator like I owned the place. HadMs. Bennettever used this elevator? I sure as cluck hoped not. I swiped the card just like I’d seen Damian do, then pressed the big P button. The elevator soared upward, smooth and silent, coming to a gentle rest thirty stories above. The doors slid open, a pair of male voices reaching me.
Anxiety snaked through me, and I clutched the envelope to my chest. Even though Axel had asked me to do this, it didn’t mean Damian was expecting me. I identified the rumble of Trace’s voice. Luggage wheels clicked over the tile floor. I left my work bags near the elevator door and headed deeper into the penthouse, following the sounds of conversation. A moment later, I found Trace and Damian standing at opposite ends of the living room.
Trace had two pieces of rolling luggage at his side. And Damian, in a sleeveless T-shirt and shorts, looked like he was carrying the weight of the world.
Damian’s gaze swung my way, and something inside him crumpled. I could see it. He squeezed his eyes shut, dragging his hands down the front of his face and turned away from me. Trace looked over, the smile he sent my way only a flicker on his face.
“Hey, Jessa.”
“Trace, it’s good to see you again.” I stepped forward, hiding the envelope behind my back. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Taking some time away,” he said simply. Then he nodded toward the front door. “I better leave, or I’ll miss my flight.”
“Can I ask where you’re going?”
“Bali,” he said. “I’ll see you guys later.”
Trace headed for the front door, the wheels of his luggage click-clacking over the floor. Damian rolled his head in a slow circle.
“Hey, Damian. Long time no see.” I glided his way, something deep inside me feeling better now that he was so close, like some final piece of a puzzle had clicked into place. “Everything okay?”
