The Lover’s Game (No Exceptions #2)(28)
Author: J.C. Reed

Sitting in bed with my arms wrapped around me, I had absolutely no clue what was going on. Shouldn’t he feel some guilt for kissing Tiffany? And why was he so angry anyway? My mind fought to come up with an explanation as to what had gone wrong. Jett hadn’t seemed to feel particularly guilty about the fact that I had seen them. Instead, he had been furious. Call it wishful thinking, but I had imagined he’d feel repentant, sorry for all the things he had done, maybe even try to conjure up a bunch of convincing lies. I wouldn’t even have been surprised if he had fled the moment a conflict arose, because aren’t men supposed to be enemies of difficult chitchats, accusations, and drawn-out drama?

Any sort of reaction would have pleased me more than Jett demanding an explanation and then leaving angry, as if he wasn’t to blame and I was the one with the loose screw.

I snorted.

It wasn’t at all the Jett I knew—calm and direct. The man who had built one of the most prestigious real estate businesses in the world from scratch. The man who had hardly broken a sweat when racing through the winding roads of Italy’s mountains, with pursuers hot on our tail. Yet, the mere thought that I believed I slept with someone other than him—even though, in my mind, it had been just a dream—had hurt and enraged him more than anything. That would have been reasonable if it weren’t for the fact that he had met Tiffany behind my back. I could only guess it had been his guilt speaking.

The rage had been etched in his flaming eyes, which morphed into a wildfire when I suggested he might want to kill me to get his hands on the Lucazzone estate.

Oh, my god, the rage—just because I suggested he might want to kill me to get his hands on the estate. I shook my head. It wasn’t even that farfetched. The news was rife with dark stories of murder and betrayal out of greed. Why wouldn’t I assume the worst when his brother was a killer and Jett had been visiting him in prison? He had told me a lie once. I chose to believe him, and he did it again.

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. It was the only explanation I had, given the fact that Jett had refused to share his reasons for keeping secrets. All he had to do was answer my questions. He refused and begged for undeserved trust instead. The fact that he wouldn’t be honest annoyed me; it implied that I was right, strengthening my need to keep my distance from him. He had too much power over me, and I needed a second perspective.

I retrieved my cell phone from the nightstand and texted the only sane person I knew: Sylvie. As her best friend, it was my duty to tell her everything before Jett did. The last thing I needed was for her to side with him. I texted:

You’ll never guess what happened last night. I slept with J, and I didn’t even know it! I feel like shooting myself. Don’t trust him if he calls you. Xx Brooke.

I sent the message, pulled on a baggy sweater that went all the way down to my knees, and then closed the window absent-mindedly. Thousands of thoughts raced through my mind, but they were nothing compared to the millions of feelings threatening to throttle me.

For a while, I stood in front of the window, the weight of the situation lingering heavy in the air. Eventually, I turned my attention toward the apartment building on the other side of the road. In front of it stood a couple with a little boy sitting on top of the man’s shoulders. They discussed something for a moment, and then the woman just smiled the kind of smile that signaled happiness. His lips melted into hers in a brief but intimate kiss, as though they were used to public displays of affection. My heart ached at the way she smiled proudly at her little family.

I will never have a family with Jett.

My baby will never know what a real family feels like, never ride atop Daddy’s shoulders in the sunshine.

The thoughts sat in the pit of my stomach like heavy rocks. While I had pushed Jett away, a part of me wasn’t ready to let him go just yet. That same foolish part of me kept hoping he wouldn’t give up on us so easily, wished he’d find a way to prove to me that he was an honest man.

A heavy sadness washed over me at the realization of how much I had believed in our future, how much I had looked forward to raising our child together—as a happy family. Now that it was over, we would be estranged parents, one poor and the other rich and successful. Someday, Jett would find someone else and marry her, and while the thought had been lingering at the back of my mind ever since we met, time hadn’t taken the sting out of it.

As I returned to the warmth of my bed, I realized I was still shaking from the fight. Too many things had piled up, but they were nothing compared to the bad feeling of impending doom. Nate was out, and with him free, I had no doubt Jett would be seeing him on a regular basis, just as he had before.

Ignoring Jett’s scent on the pillows, I leaned back and began to flick through my messages. The legal firm hadn’t replied. For a moment, I considered calling them again, then decided against it. For one, I was a professional and didn’t want to seem as though I was harassing them. And then I figured if they thought the matter important, they’d get back to me. I had nothing to lose by waiting a little longer.

My eyes rested on the wallpaper on my cell phone screen, a picture of Jett and me, laughing and grimacing at the camera. A sharp pang shot through my heart as I remembered that day in all its vivid glory. It was one of the many happy memories—too many to count. The first day of autumn, we had been sitting in the park, fooling around, capturing both the change in seasons and our blossoming love. Or at least my blossoming love. Not his. He was probably too busy thinking about screwing his ex.

Before I could change my mind, I deleted the picture and replaced the wallpaper with the image of a desolate winter landscape in the hope that the loneliness would empty my mind and the snow would gradually freeze over my feelings.

Chapter 15

By midday, the entrance door opened, and footsteps thudded across the corridor. My pulse spiked, but there was no time to steady my nerves or hide. I knew it was my best friend. The way she hurried in, I almost expected her to shout, “Fire.”

Sylvie threw open the door, her first question hitting me before she even set foot in the room. “Please tell me I’ve been pranked, because someone just texted me that you slept with Jett.”

Her blonde hair was a mess, and her cheeks were flushed, as if she had been running a couple of blocks, which couldn’t be, because Sylvie never engaged in physical activity of any kind, unless it was to get a limited edition of shoes at half-price. I sat up and regarded her grimly as she sat on the edge of the bed, barely able to move in her fluffy, pink cashmere sweater, tight red pants, and dark brown high heels. In spite of her flushed face, she looked as if she had just stepped off a runway.