The Lover’s Secret (No Exceptions #1)(13)
Author: J.C. Reed

I knew the message could be spam, sent from some hacker who might have found out details about me and decided to target me in a scam. But for some inexplicable reason, I decided to believe it was the real deal. The correspondence details looked too professional. The legal firm was well established in New York City business circles. Given the fact that a private number was included, I figured the request might be either urgent or important, so I memorized the number and decided I’d call it as soon as possible.

Somewhere in the periphery of my mind, I realized that the sound of running water had stopped. Jett must have finished his shower and would be joining me any minute. I hurried to log off and close the Internet browser, then placed the laptop back on the table and returned to my previous position, all while my mind continued to fight against the onset of mistrust that was quickly nestling inside me.

“Hey,” Jett said from the door, a towel wrapped around his naked lower body, “why didn’t you join me?” His spirits had risen, and a smile had returned to his lips. Slowly, he inched closer with the kind of hooded look that screamed sex—and lots of it.

“You should dry off before you flood the floor.” Forcing a smile to my lips, I pointed to his hair and crossed my arms over my chest.

He got the hint instantly, because he didn’t come closer. Instead, he headed for the bedroom, presumably to get a change of clothes.

I exhaled in relief. At some point I would have to ask him about the email, but now wasn’t the right time. I was too shaken and needed time to think about the estate and the future the email had mentioned—a future that now included a child.

Chapter 9

Jett returned within a few minutes, dressed in a white shirt that accentuated his broad chest and narrow waist. Under different circumstances, I would have insisted on ripping it off of him, but now my attention was focused elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” Jett asked. “You seem a little distracted.”

For a moment, I pondered whether to ask him about the email.

And risk sounding insecure? No way!

“I have a headache,” I whispered. At least it was the truth.

“I hope it has nothing to do with what we discussed earlier.” He stepped closer, wearing a concerned look on his face.

“No, that’s not it. I’m fine.” My voice came a little too high, betraying my lie.

Jett sighed. “Look, Brooke, I know you want me to shut up, but we need to talk about the future. Or else it will eat you up. Pretending you’re fine when you’re not is not the solution.”

Playing for time, I sat up and tucked my legs under me, knowing I had to tread carefully so I wouldn’t hurt him or start a fight. “Let’s leave the past in the past and the future in the future.” My voice came a little too defensive and strong. I cleared my throat, but didn’t quite manage to get rid of the serious edge. “The future’s not really something I want to focus on right now.”

A silence ensued, the heavy and gloomy kind, like fog draped around the room. Except for the soft crackling of the burning logs and the rhythmical ticking of a clock, no sounds broke through the magnitude of the situation.

Finally, Jett got up and walked over to the table. His back was turned to me as he poured himself a glass of double-malt whiskey. The stronger kind—I noticed—which he only drank when something troubled him. I knew how much he actually disliked whiskey. He swigged it down in three gulps and winced, then poured himself another and some water for me.

The tenseness of his shoulders gave away his anger at my unwillingness to explain. And I understood: he wanted me to share with him everything, and I would…someday. But right now, for the time being, my past, my fears, and my thoughts were my business. They were my burden—a closed door I wasn’t ready to open.

Jett put the glass of water on the side table.

I wrapped my fingers around it, but in spite of the dry sensation in my mouth, I didn’t drink any.

He gave another frustrated sigh and moistened his lips. “Brooke, I’m just saying…” He paused. There was something in his voice that made me look up. Was it hesitation? Caginess? I wasn’t sure, but I could feel something in his stance, some kind of alertness, as though he was carefully watching my reaction. “I’d never do anything to betray your trust. I’m always going to keep my promises to you, but you need to trust me.”

I frowned again.

I hated the word “trust.” It reminded me of a house of glass that allowed everyone to enter freely or see what was going on inside. Eventually, someone would want to probe that glass and see how far they could go without breaking it. Maybe even go as far as damaging it beyond repair. People never talked about trust unless there was a good reason. More often than not, there was a morbid curiosity behind it, a hidden motive or an agenda— sometimes good, sometimes bad, however we saw it. That was just the way it worked. So, how could he stand there and talk to me about trust when I had just found the email in the trash and was plagued by burning questions?

Narrowing my eyes, I took in the burning intensity in his gaze. He wanted something from me, but as much as I wanted him to elaborate, a more urgent question kept burning on the tip of my tongue.

“I don’t understand. Why did you bring up our separation earlier?” I asked, trying to keep the tone light…without much success. ”Why would you talk about risks?”

He took his time with an answer. Finally, he drained the last drop of his drink and looked up. “Because I don’t want it to ever happen again.” There was a slight pause, and then he continued, “It’s not so much about the risks I’d take for you, but it’s more the fact that I want you by my side, no matter what happens. We can fight. You can scream at me. Hell, you can even punch me, but I need you to stay, no matter what,” Jett said slowly. “I need your promise that you won’t disappear like before.”

I shook my head and frowned again. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple, Brooke. I’m asking you to promise me that you won’t leave.”

My heart skipped a beat, and a chill ran down my spine. It wasn’t quite the answer I had been hoping for, more like…Look, I checked your email. I deleted it. And yes, let’s get married.

Not that answer.

I moistened my lips, hesitating. The way he was looking at me—too composed, too determined—made me nervous.

A promise that I’ll never leave?