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“I don’t care what it takes,” he growls, his voice low. Threatening.
Dangerous.
“We need those goddamn recordings so you’d better fix this, no matter the cost. I don’t think you need me to spell out what that means.”
There’s a pause as whomever he’s speaking to probably responds, my curiosity increasing with every passing second. Who is he talking to? What recordings? And why does Jameson need them, no matter the cost?
“Good. I expect an update in twenty-four hours, and it better be good news.”
I inch forward, straining to listen to the next part of their conversation. Unfortunately, by the time I figure out he ended the call, the door flings open, Jameson coming to an abrupt stop when he sees me in the hallway.
On a sharp inhale, I stiffen, eyes going wide when I meet his gaze and see something I’ve never encountered during our short fake courtship.
Something…disturbing.
Or perhaps it’s my own guilt and remorse over my most recent interlude with Creed staring back at me, reminding me of everything at stake.
Instantly, his expression softens, making me question what I thought I saw mere seconds ago.
“Esme…” He runs his hands down my arms. “Is everything okay?”
“I suppose I should ask you that.” I give him a knowing look, to which he briefly closes his eyes, hanging his head.
“You heard that, didn’t you?” He drops his hold on me.
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “It certainly caught my attention, especially since I’ve never heard you use that tone of voice.” I hold my head high, offering no excuse for why I was up here in the first place.
And thankfully Jameson doesn’t ask.
“That’s why I came up here to take the call.” He gives me a sheepish smile, everything about him a complete 180 from the angry man I’d overheard moments ago. “Sorry to say that sometimes I let my temper get the better of me, especially when mistakes happen because of incompetence. I told you I wasn’t perfect.”
I stare at him for a beat, looking for any hint of deception. Any clue he’s not being truthful. I don’t find anything but sincerity in his gaze.
“We all suffer from that on occasion,” I assure him, relaxing my posture. “Especially when things don’t go our way. I’ve been known to be a bit of a drama queen from time to time myself.”
“You?” he playfully chides, then winks. “Never.”
I laugh slightly, berating myself for assuming Jameson was doing anything other than responding to a problem at work. Nothing he said during that phone call would indicate otherwise, and yet I was so quick to jump to conclusions, to the wrong conclusion, all because it would make me feel less guilty about my own behavior.
“Come on.” Jameson slings an arm around my shoulders and steers me down the hallway. “Let’s get back to the party. Although I’m not sure that’s a great idea either, considering your brother seems hell-bent on getting me drunk.”
“It’s not just my brother.” I flash a smile. “All my friends are. They want you to spill your deepest, darkest secrets.”
“And how about you?” He leans closer, his voice husky.
“Me?”
“Are you trying to get me to spill my deepest, darkest secrets?” He waggles his brows, a flirtatious smirk curving on his lips.
Truth be told, I like this version of Jameson. He seems much more relaxed than he’s been during the myriad of public events we’ve attended since announcing our relationship.
Then again, it could simply be because this is the first time we’ve spent any extended time together without the watchful eyes of the royal household scrutinizing our every move. We’re free to be ourselves.
And maybe this is the authentic version of Jameson. Not the man he purports to be in public.
Like I’m not the woman I purport to be in public.
“The royal household already spilled those in that dossier they put together,” I remind him.
