Sweet Jayne (17 page)

“Does she?” He cracks his neck and meets me with a level stare. “Truth is, she wanted some space from me.”

Blinking at him, I search his gaze for humor. He’s not amused. His jaw clenches and his cheeks turn slightly pink with embarrassment.

I’m going to kill her for hurting him.

“Are you guys okay? Is she having an affair?” My voice is a shriek that will no doubt have bitch Darcy peeking her head in at any time.

He storms past me and locks his office door, anticipating Darcy’s nosy antics before she even reaches his office. Then, he stalks over to me and places his warm hands on my shoulders. His knees bend so he can gaze right into my eyes. I get lost in the way flecks of silver sparkle like shards of glass in his icy irises.

“She’s not in love with me, sunshine. I
know
you see that. I’m going to stay at the Penthouse here at the resort until…”

I scrunch my nose up and arch an eyebrow up in question. “Until what?”

He sighs and runs his fingers through his gelled hair, messing it up. I want to run my fingers through it too. “I thought I’d stay here until...” A groan of frustration. “We’re getting a divorce.”

Tears well in my eyes. Selfish fucking tears.

“But you’re my…you’re my…” I can’t finish my statement before I burst into tears.

His warm, strong arms are once again around me and he hugs me to him. Long, capable fingers dig into my sides and I want them to forever latch themselves to me. If they divorce, where will that leave us?

“Listen to me,” he murmurs against my hair, his breath hot. “You’ll always be my Nadia Jayne. Mine. Okay?”

I nod as my tears soak the front of his neat suit.

“You share my last name. You’re my family. Nobody can take that away. Got it, baby?”

My palms find his chest and I hug him under his suit jacket, my fingertips skimming across each of his firm muscles on his back. I want him to keep me cocooned in his embrace and never let me go. Here, I don’t worry about all the leads on Kasey that go nowhere. My mamá’s sudden need to push away her husband. And I certainly don’t worry about my job, my college courses, or that boyfriend—whatever his name was. All I care about is this man.

“You look beautiful today. Every day more so than the last.”

I sigh against his chest and hook my thumbs into the back of his slacks over his belt. My boyfriend—he’s definitely my ex now—would tell me I had a nice rack or a nice ass.

But Donovan?

He knows how to make a woman melt with a compliment.

As he rubs circles on my back, he gets lower and lower until his fingertips stop just above my ass. Neither of us say a word—we just hold each other. I let out a tiny sigh of disappointment that he doesn’t slide his hands any lower. If I were braver, I’d do something about it, like push them down for him.

Yet, if he, for some reason rejected me, I’d be crushed.

I’ll cling onto the closeness we have without trying to wreck it with my weird womanly hormones.

“Te amo, Donovan.”

His chuckle fills my soul with joy and I smile. He presses a kiss to my hair. “My sweet Jayne. I love you too, baby.”

A pounding on his office door makes us break apart.

Pounding and pounding.

It takes me a moment to realize that the pounding is inside my head. The memory of Donovan disappears as my recollection of what happened with Logan thunders into my mind. After Kasper had left, Logan hit me.

In his rage, he’d waved around a fucking two by four.

Threatened to hit me over the damn head with it.

Logan’s too smart for that, though. He would have had to deal with a corpse then. And that’s simply not his style. So at the last minute, he tossed the wood and opted for his fist instead. And then he dragged me down to his hellhole and left me.

For a fleeting second, I wish he’d have finished the job. That he had the balls to use that plank of wood instead of his powerful fist. Because sometimes this—
all of this
—is too hard. An easy way out, at times, seems preferable.

But then I
always
remember my reason.

Then my situation isn’t so tough after all.

“Jesus,” I groan as I sit up.

“Shhhh.”

“God, I fucked up,” I hiss as I crawl off of the sofa. I purposely avoid the door by the stairwell and clumsily make my way over to the steps. If I open that door, I can kiss all of this goodbye. All progress will be lost. I’ll be back to square one. “I’ll fix this.”

Clambering up the steps, I blink away a wave of dizziness before I climb the rest of the way up. Once my palm finds the cold steel door, I slap at it.

“Logan!” I hiss and clutch onto the knob. “Let me out!”

My fingers fly over the pad, finally getting a chance to try out some number combinations I’d hoped would work. Birthdates. Alarm codes. Addresses. But each one beeps its decline.

Don’t give up, Nadia.

I wake to hot, powerful arms peeling me from the top step and freeing me from my prison. I’m not sure how long I clawed and pounded at the door but eventually, he had mercy on my poor soul. And now, sometime in the early hours of dawn on Sunday, Logan carries my broken and blood-crusted body to his bedroom. He sits me on the bed, gently, and then disappears into the bathroom. The room is dark so I can’t take stock of my injuries. Not that I even care. My biggest wound is to my heart.

A short time in the basement was enough to slice it to bits.

“Come on, Nadia. Time to clean you up.”

With gentle movements, he tugs my dress down off my shoulders. I let him guide me to my shaky feet where he can finish removing my undergarments. I’m trying to remain strong—to remember my ambition—but it’s difficult when all I want to do is sleep for a week.

He guides me into the steaming hot bathroom to where he quickly sheds his clothes. Together, we step into the slate-tiled walk-in shower and the heated bliss cloaks me almost instantly. I’m not sure why Logan is showing me kindness and I’m sure there’s an ulterior motive—but just this once, I cling on to it and pray that it’s genuine.

I wince when he begins massaging shampoo onto my sore scalp but remain immobile. Logan does what he wants. And right now, he wants to take care of me for some reason. So I’ll let him.

“That’s a nasty bruise on your cheek. Kasper will have to be more careful where he leaves his tools and supplies. My clumsy fiancée just tripped right over that board and hit her face.” He clucks his tongue as if he really believes his words.

I shudder, the chill that always emanates from him gripping me in its clutches. “I can cover it with makeup.”

Our eyes meet and I am too frozen in his gaze to break from his heated glare. But it isn’t a hate-filled glint in his eyes, it’s something different. Something foreign. Something I cling on to desperately.

It’s the brilliant shimmering glint of progress.

“I love you,” he says in a whisper, almost as if he hates saying the words out loud.

I smile and slide my fingertips up his firm tattooed chest. “I love you too, D”—my heart plummets to the floor but I quickly fix my mistake—“d-d-darling.”

The growl of anger softens as his mouth descends upon mine. Our kiss is intense. I throw everything I have into it. His rough, masculine hands grip my ass and he lifts me. I hook my legs around his waist and hiss out in shock when the icy cold tile hits my back. He pushes his cock into me but he’s not rough—he’s needy almost. Greedy for me. I’m not sure what to make of his unusual behavior.

“You’re mine,” he says with a possessive growl as he thrusts into me. “All mine.”

As he fucks me with a gentle eagerness that’s never been there before, I let my mind slip. This is too much—too kind. In some ways, it’s worse than when he’s awful to me.

“How’s school?”

I let out a sigh and stretch along my bed in my dorm room. “Fine.”

He remains quiet for a moment. “Just fine? What’s going on, baby? I can hear it in your voice.”

Chewing on my lip, I blink away the tears in my eyes. I can’t tell him that I feel lost all the way out here in California. That I haven’t made many friends despite being in my second year of school here. That, no matter how many trails I follow, none of them lead back to Kasey. And most of all, I can’t tell him that I miss him so fucking much.

It’s not right.

Grossly inappropriate.

But I do miss him with every cell in my body.

“I broke up with Jake yesterday.” Another boyfriend in a long list of forgettable ones.

Donovan lets out a grunt on the other end of the line and it charges my nerve endings to life.

“Good.”

Of course I tell Donovan everything. He knows every single detail in my life. We both like it that way.

“What are you doing?” I question, trying to change the subject.

“Just got out of the shower. Today was quad day.”

A mental picture of Donovan, wet and sculpted, in nothing but a towel sends curls of pleasure straight to my core. I’m twisted because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with my stepdad. As his deep voice rambles on about a new property he’d put a bid on, I tug at my nightgown and bring it up over my hips. Shame makes my neck and cheeks heat but it doesn’t stop me from dragging my index finger over my clit through my panties. I jolt from the touch and let out a small gasp.

“You okay?”

“Mmmhhhm. Just tell me more about your day,” I breathe, “Mi querido amigo.”
My dear friend.

He groans, always an animalistic growl when I murmur Spanish endearments to him, and launches into how he found out Darcy and Dan have been fucking on the side. Even though I hate her, I still want Donovan to tell me about it.

“It’s a problem,” he says, his voice sad almost.

My heart catches in my throat and my fingers stop their assault on my sex. Does he like her? The thought is a terrifying one. “Why is it a problem?”

He lets out a breath into the phone that makes me shiver. “Well, for one, it’s a conflict of interest.”

At least he didn’t say because he wants her or something. I’m not sure I could have handled that kind of information coming from his handsome mouth.

“Why? Because she works for the execs? Can’t you just transfer her to a different department?” I question. I’m not sure why I’m advocating for Darcy’s sex life but I feel like Donovan’s not telling me everything. Something tells me to fight for her.

His silence is unnerving. I can hear him breathing and I can almost imagine him tugging at his dark hair in frustration. But why? Why is something so trivial as an inner office affair upsetting him?