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)
“Tell me why you stopped serving.”
His motions falter briefly before he quickly gathers himself and continues to clean me up. It was just a split second, but I caught it, and I also saw the flash of pain in his eyes. “I’d served my country. Time to move on.”
I don’t believe him, and he’d be a fool to expect me to. That pain is still lingering deeply in his dark eyes, no matter how hard he’s trying to conceal it behind his tough front. His evasion angers me, and I push his hand away from my cheek, ignoring his worried look.
“I need to get ready,” I say, standing and leaving him crouched before me, looking up at me. I pass him and make my way into my room, hoping he takes the initiative to vacate my bathroom so I can shower.
“Camille?” he calls, his footsteps padding on the carpet as he follows me. “Why are you walking away from me?”
“You’ve made it perfectly clear that the conversation isn’t going anywhere. I’m not stupid, Jake. There are things you’re not telling me. I need to get dressed for the party.”
I pull a floral oversized T-shirt dress down and lay it on my bed before heading to the shower, leaving Jake standing like a spare part in the middle of my bedroom. Shutting the door behind me, I flip the shower on, strip down and step in. The hot water feels divine, and as I absentmindedly soap down, staring at the tiles, my mind starts running away with me.
He’s so complicated yet so simple. I’m perplexed by him, but I’m even more perplexed by my need to get beneath the cold, hard front he keeps in place. He’s shown me a soft side. He’s demonstrated that he isn’t heartless and unfeeling, and I’ve seen him spiral into a meltdown. He’s given me scraps of his history. Tiny pieces. But it all feels worthless without his trust. It feels one-sided as long as he decides what I should and shouldn’t know.
And then I ask myself something. Something important.
Why do I need to know?
My hands pause on my stomach as my eyes drop to the shower floor, hating the conclusion that I’m reaching. It has nothing to do with curiosity. I haven’t a burning need to unravel the puzzle that is Jacob Sharp. I want to know so I can help him.
Because I love him.
A single tear falls and mixes with the hot water spraying my face. I can’t help him if he doesn’t want to be helped. I can’t bring him into the light when he’s content residing in darkness. And I can’t let him drag me into that darkness.
I can’t fix him if he doesn’t want to be fixed.
I can feel myself breaking under the pressure I’m putting on myself. I don’t know when this became more emotional than physical, but I do know that I need to disconnect myself before I’m too far into his darkness to find my way out. I’ve been there before and I never plan on going back. Different circumstances, yes, but it’ll be the same outcome.
Hurt. Though I fear the hurt Jake is capable of inflicting on me would be excruciating, and I know I would never recover from it.
* * *
The drive to my father’s sprawling mansion in the countryside is long and painful, both Jake and me quiet and pensive.
The gates to Dad’s estate creak open slowly, and we’re greeted by a sea of luxury cars parked up the driveway. Jake drives unhurriedly toward the house, and the sounds of chatter and laughter get louder as we draw closer. It’s sunny and warm and I’m dreading the evening ahead. There will be dozens of insanely rich men who rub shoulders with my father, in either business or pleasure—all as materialistic and ruthless as he is. And their wives—as shallow as they are glamorous, most just waiting for the younger model to muscle in on their privileged lives and snatch the rug from under their feet.
If Dad even tries to push any potential boyfriend on me, I might scream. It’s hard enough to keep a smile fixed at the best of times. Now, when I’m feeling as hopeless and empty as I do, enduring my father’s intentions will be a challenge I’m not confident of overcoming.
I hop out of Jake’s Range Rover and take the path that leads to the extensive grounds at the back of my father’s home, walking through endless pavilions with honeysuckle waterfalls. When I pass the final archway into the garden, I’m faced with hundreds of people, all sipping Pimm’s or champagne, and I scan the faces, spotting TJ by the pool. I make my way over, smiling when he sees me.
“Little star!” he croons, swiping a glass from a passing waiter and placing it in my hand before kissing my cheek. “Last to arrive, and I bet you’ll be the first to leave.”