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“I’d have to talk with Devon, but I think I know what he’ll say.”
“I mean, I know it could be tricky, with his business and everything, I mean, having his name associated with… oh God, what was I thinking? Of course it wouldn’t work.”
“Ivy, calm. I think he’d be thrilled. You’ve seen yourself that Master Devon and Doctor Jacobs are two very different people. Have you thought of a name yet?”
“Penny Sins?” Ivy burst into laughter as the name came to her, her breathing faltering as she failed to inhale as Penny’s laughter joined in chorus with her own.
Just as their sides were aching, and they thought they’d never pull in a satisfying breath again, a light flicked on, bringing their attention to the late hour. Devon looked at the two women, relief filling his expression as Ivy sat like a deer caught in the headlights.
“She’s here.” His voice, while stern was filled with relief. Ivy glanced at her phone, noticing the screen was off, her stomach lurched. “I’ll bring her home.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
She didn’t deserve him. What madeherso special? What was it about Ivy Sinclair that drew men to her? Was it those innocent eyes, her mannerisms? Whatever it was, she wasn’t good enough. Not for him.
After they had parted ways, she’d spent months trying to find him, to tempt him back. But no. She’d visited his old haunts, sought him out at the place their eyes first met and the connection was formed.
Nothing.
He’d left her. Cast her aside like unwanted garbage, abandoned her for that woman. But he didn’t want her, not really. He’d come around to her way of thinking, there was no doubt about it. They belonged together; she was the other piece of his soul. They were made for one another. He saw that now, she knew he did. She’d got his message loud and clear.
She could still smell him, in those fleeting moments when her yearning overpowered her. The scent of his expensive cologne no longer lingered on her clothes, but the one she’d spent her wages on almost smelt as good, it just lacked his own masculine scent mingled in with it. It was an absence she would soon correct.
He thought about her. She could tell, tell from the way he had been with Ivy that he remembered their time together. Surely it was a sign, his way of saying he wanted her back.
Of course, he couldn’t just announce it. She had to be patient. There was a plan somewhere, she knew it. He was organised, meticulous.
The moment the story had broken about Ivy Sinclair, her abductions and rescue, she knew she had a way in, a way back. But she had to play it carefully.
There was too much security now, too much scrutiny of those who would approach. Her time was coming though. That was certain. Everything she craved would soon be within her reach. She just needed to wait a little longer.
Ivy took a deep breath. She hated keeping things from Miles, but she knew with how precarious the relationship with his mother was, if she uttered even a word she would be responsible for their relationship’s end.
She would give anything for a few more hours with her mother. She remembered sitting at her hospital bed, holding her hand, watching her fade, knowing with each painful beat of her heart, that their time was coming to an end. She felt her mother’s loss every day. Her father often said how much like her she was, that she would have been proud of the woman she’d become. She just wished she could hear it from her mother. Her dad had been amazing, raised her well, had the difficult talks with her, but there was still no substitute.
The thought of costing Miles any time with her sat like a lead balloon deep in the pit of her gut, and it grew heavier each day. Even if she was a heartless monster, she was still his mother. Fortunately, her time with Penny had soothed her raw edges, and when Devon had brought her home, Miles hadn’t pressed for details. He’d just held her. He’d held her close, tight, breathing her in. it was by this alone that she knew how badly she’d fucked up.
His relief had passed, he was angry now. The way he looked at her, the silence, said more than any words, as did the fact he wouldn’t punish her. He never punished her when he was angry.
“How’d the paperwork go?” Ivy questioned, pushing the omelette around on the slate-coloured plate. Her stomach lurched at just the thought of food, shifting the balloon that continued to expand and consume her. Despite this being one of Miles’ specialities, one of her comfort foods, she couldn’t bring herself to eat it. Her fork screeched across the plate, making her wince. She raised her eyes to see Miles staring at her.
She could drown in those eyes a million times over. Pine cone and glitter, a colour that mesmerised and enchanted her. He stole her breath, holding it hostage until her body became his servant. He was her air, her world, her everything. There was nothing she wouldn’t do, wouldn’t endure for him, and the way he looked at her, even when his brow was lined with frustration, told her he felt the same.
The butterflies given by those looks displaced some of the pressure building within that lead balloon, made it more bearable, and eased the burden. She truly believed, with him beside her, there was nothing she couldn’t do, nothing she couldn’t achieve.
She was just about to apologise again when he spoke. “I’m sorry.” His hand stilled hers as he spoke, stopping her from pushing the food across the plate again. A shiver of delight chased through her at even the simplest touch. His hands were warm, skin slightly calloused from years of hard work to create a soft scratch against her skin that erupted in a trail of tingles.
“For?” What on Earth did this man, her king, have to be sorry for? Those words should have come from her. She’d let her phone die and left him worrying about her without word. She had apologised many times, but not enough. Not enough to calm the worry she’d seen, or ease the wrinkle that had taken up residence on his furrowed brow. She hadn’t been thinking. She’d thought he wouldn’t notice her absence. She hadn’t realised just how late it had got.
“Clearly you wanted scrambled eggs,” he teased, a smile returning to his eyes. All earlier signs of tension had almost left his shoulders now as he found relief in her company, in being with her, she hoped.
“Sorry, I’m just not hungry.”
“My mother will do that to you. How about we put on Monster Hunter, and you can make this army man blush with your cussing?”
Ivy pushed the plate away, a smile lifting her lips. Monster Hunter World. Oh, how she loathed that game, over six hundred hours in, farming, battles, forging equipment, and still it frustrated her like nothing else.
There were hours at a time she wanted to throw the controller across the room and stomp the game into oblivion, but for every second of venom the game nurtured, its addictive quality and the sheer fun value countered every scream of madness. There was no other game she could sink hours into at a time, and be sent on an emotional roller coaster of rage quitting to laser-sharp focus. And the profanity she used, no other game created such a vibrant, colourful string of expletives. She’d actually heard Miles chuckle a few times at the strings of words that came from her lips as another low blow was struck by whatever colossal monster she faced.
