Almost, anyway.
“I think now’s a good time to go,” I whisper to Jules, who only nods blankly, staring straight ahead. In shock.
In a few seconds, I’ve slipped out with her the way I came in. A private elevator’s at the end of a narrow passage leading straight up to my floors.
My apartment.
My bed.
Our bed, hopefully.
I lock the elevators leading to my floors, meaning we really can be alone now.
I still have to guide Jules a little, she’s unsteady on her feet, her mouth gaping.
I hope she isn’t sick, please God, don’t let her be sick.
I could go through my office, maybe make some calls and let everyone know not to panic.
But I don’t care about what’s happening down there anymore. I don’t care about anything but Jules right now.
Using a door that bypasses my office and the same keycard that only I have to work my elevators, I lead her in and close the door behind me, leaning heavily on it.
Finally able to breathe for the first time all day.
I’m suddenly aware of my living space.
No one comes in here, save for the maids a couple of times a week, and Nicholas of course.
I should try Nick again in the morning and I’m gonna need his help more than ever with the media over this auction business.
I sigh gently, forcing everything else from my mind, asking Jules for the millionth time if she’s alright.
She’s sat herself down on a sofa, still staring blankly, but she manages to finally meet my eyes and laugh nervously.
“Did you really just bid millions of dollars so I can work in a soup kitchen?” she asks, then I notice her laughter again.
It goes from nervous to almost hysterical.
Kneeling in front of her, I take her by the elbows again, shaking her gently.
“Jules, Jules! Stop it. It’s alright, it’s over now.”
I’ve seen people get hysterical over money before. As soon as the M-word gets mentioned, lots of people lose their heads.
“But, I’ll have to work there for twenty lifetimes to pay all that off,” she says, slumping back into the leather couch, her skirt riding up, exposing her legs, making me stand up and look somewhere else before I can take a seat on the other side of the room.
I have to.
My own hardness is pulsing back to life. I try to think about something else, anything else, but I just can’t.
She’s here. She’s finally here.
Clearing my throat and leaning forward, I explain things a little for Jules.
“You don’t have to work at the soup kitchen. I bid that much, as much as it would take, so I could have you all to myself instead. We’ll make sure the kitchen has all the help they need, don’t worry,” I assure her, but I don’t think she’s hearing me.
“I mean, I haven’t even been there for a few weeks. I wonder if Florence…” she drifts off, and then she seems to remember what I’ve just told her.
“What do you mean?” she asks, sounding concerned. Even a little suspicious.
Her legs press closer together and she sits up, one hand absently covering her chest while the other straightens her hair.
“I mean, you’re mine now. I won you, fair and square,” I announce triumphantly.
“Figuratively speaking,” I add, not wanting to frighten her.
“Yours?” she repeats, sitting right on the edge of the couch now, looking from me to the door.
I feel another stab of panic, maybe it’s too much too soon. In my excitement, I guess I’m being a little boastful.
Okay… a lot boastful.
“I mean, instead of working in the soup kitchen, or the office for say… the next week. I thought you could come and spend that time with me,” I tell her, realizing how much creepier this must be sounding by the second.
She’s quiet though, thoughtful for a moment.
Then she stands, looking at the door.
“I think I’d better go now. It’s late,” she says, sounding unsure and it’s my turn to sink back into my chair, closing my eyes and putting my hands over my face. I rub them in a vain attempt to erase the past few minutes and start over again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jules
I tell him it’s late.
I know it’s late.
I know what he’s saying sounds crazy.
But I ran once before. I remember what it felt like not knowing what if.
I don’t ever want it to be too late.
This could be my only chance.
And it’s Mason Thorne for god’s sake.
My knees are shaking as I stand in his palatial penthouse, looking from the door back to him.
He’s sitting down, looking like he wants to start over. Like maybe we can pretend it’s earlier this afternoon when we had that feeling.
This feeling.
A quick examination of myself reveals I’m not scared, I’m not worried.
I’m actually trembling from the excitement I feel. From what Mason Thorne does to me every time I’m near him.
Whenever we’re alone it feels like it’s turned up to a thousand.
Mason looks at me, his gaze more intense than ever. Whatever it is between us, it’s on a collision course, I feel it.
Even if I could leave now, which I know I don’t really want to, it would still find a way to pull us together.
Like destiny.
As if in slow motion, I watch him stand, and stalk towards me. I can see by the thick line in the front of his pants that he’s as wound up as I am.
I hear myself gasping, fighting for air. Like I can’t breathe.
My hand goes up, out toward his face and only once his lips are pressed hard against mine does it feel like I’m alive again.
Like I can breathe. Like I’ve finally been pulled from the depths of my so called life that’s been dragging me down since I can remember.
His huge hands pull me closer to him, one on my back, the other cradling my neck as he lifts me up closer to him, pressing me into him.
His huge body fusing with mine, pulling
