Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“No?” He looks shocked by my refusal, and it seriously astounds me. What did he think I’d do? Leap into his arms and tell him how much I’ve missed him? I nod my confirmation and watch as a familiar wave of anger flickers across his face. He tries to hide it, and maybe to the outside world he’d succeed, but I’ve seen this forced calmness before. He isn’t fooling me. “Come on,” he croons, stepping forward with a smile in place. “Haven’t you missed me?”
I don’t get a chance to answer this time. I yelp as I’m swiped from my feet and placed to the side. Sharp takes the door handle and moves toward Seb, who wisely backs up. “Your contact with Miss Logan stops here.” And with that, he slams the door and stalks toward the kitchen, pulling his phone from his pocket.
I look at my closed front door, then to the entrance of the kitchen, just catching Sharp’s back, still heaving, disappearing through the door.
What the hell just happened?
I follow him to the kitchen and find him at the sink splashing his face with water.
“I thought you were leaving,” I say, frowning at his heaving back.
“There’s been a change of plan,” he declares.
Chapter 11
JAKE
I slowly stir my coffee as I sit a few tables away from Camille and Heather outside a small Italian café off Kensington High Street while they slurp iced teas and chat like girls do. It’s all I can do not to moan when I hear Heather mention their social event tonight. Saffron’s twenty-fifth-birthday party. Great. More torture in the form of Camille Logan wearing something shit-hot and strutting around a bar while endless men drool all over her. Perfect. Can’t fucking wait.
She has been noticeably more receptive to my protection since my meltdown in Harvey Nichols yesterday. Her new approach is a surprise, and I can’t figure out if it’s a welcome one.
The way she looked at me after she’d relieved me of my slippery pill bottle and gave me what I needed did things to me that I’m struggling to comprehend. There was no judgment in her eyes when she helped me. There was nothing but compassion. I’m still questioning whether it was the psychological impact of swallowing that tablet that calmed me, or the peace I siphoned off of her. I tried to figure it out and found myself growing more and more distressed and perplexed by the sense of comfort I got from her comfort. I can’t stop myself from looking at her. I can try to kid myself that it’s my job to watch her, but I’d be lying. I’m not watching her. I’m admiring her—her work ethic, how she’s pulled herself back from the brink of self-destruction, and her determination to chase her dream rather than take the easy path. Like her father’s money, or these investors with other ideas that I’ve listened to her talk about. She’s so fucking strong. Just being around her offers a sense of calm that I know I shouldn’t be taking. She’s not a distraction. She’s a comfort, and I don’t deserve any comfort.
I lay on the couch last night and came to the solid conclusion that all those factors meant my head wasn’t in the game. So this morning I called Lucinda and told her to find me another job. I was all set to leave Camille Logan behind, along with the confusing feelings she spikes in me, and find another distraction.
But that all changed the moment I opened the door to her ex-boyfriend. I knew who he was the second I laid eyes on him. I nearly put a bullet in his posh head. The natural instinct to protect her was more primal than duty-driven. I couldn’t ignore it. And I suddenly couldn’t walk away. I’ve seen pictures of Sebastian Peters since his release from rehab, falling out of nightclubs with watery eyes and his jaw tight—all evidence that he’s using again. It seems reading girlie magazines has become part of my job. If I were a lesser man, I’d feel like a pussy.
His unexpected visit to Camille’s apartment changed my decision to hand her safety over to a replacement in a heartbeat. I saw a flash of menace in his eyes when Camille refused his offer of coffee. He seems like more of a danger to Camille than any threats. But I will protect her from both.
It’s imperative that I train my mind into submission and avoid all situations that have the potential to veer me off the course of professionalism. I’m not going to try and plead that this will be easy. It won’t be. Camille Logan is a beautiful, tempting young woman, and she also has an air of determination and independence that I can’t help but find fascinating. And attractive. My initial conclusions are completely unfounded. She’s no brat. She’s a woman fighting for her independence. She repels her father’s insistence to feed her cash and clearly finds the suppression attached to being his daughter a burden.