Despite the passionate romp in the hay, I couldn’t sleep. Every ti I started to doze off, I would flinch awake, paranoid that I had heard sothing nearby. I couldn’t relax entirely just knowing that there was soone out there that wanted to take the life of my wife. I felt helpless, scared, and small at the thought.
Each ti I would spring awake, I would catch my breath, hold Hannah a little closer, and attempt to go to sleep. It was all for nothing, though. Even the comfort of the woman I loved more than anyone wasn’t enough. There was just too much going on and I was too scared of the unknown at that mont.
Before I knew it, the sun was starting to lighten the room. Sighing heavily, I crept out of bed and headed downstairs after dressing myself. I figured getting in the kitchen and starting breakfast before Geoffrey would be a good distraction for . It had been a while since I had last cooked, but I still knew how.
I got out the eggs, bacon, green onion, tomatoes, english muffins, and anything else I saw to make myself and Hannah a deluxe breakfast. The thought of serving her breakfast in bed brought a smile to my face. She deserved pampering, and I figured it would be a great way to start the day.
As I beat the eggs into a homogeneous mixture, I went ahead and ntally made the decision to stay ho. There was no possible way I was going to be away from Hannah for that long. It was too soon. I needed to be near her, even if I didn’t always have eyes on her. Anything to ease the panic that had overco my body just at the sheer thought of her being in danger. I needed to be near enough that I, myself, could spring into action. I might not have been as helpful as the bodyguards, but I just needed that peace of mind.
Cooking proved to be a therapeutic activity to . I was able to turn my mind off a little bit and just focus on the task at hand. Even though I hadn’t initially had a al plan in mind, it all started to co together. I poured the egg mixture—along with bacon I had pan-fried, tomatoes, basil, and green onion—into a muffin pan to make frittatas. As they baked, I combined avocado, plain greek yogurt, li, and salt to create a spread. Toasting off the english muffins, I started contemplating if there was any way I could plate the dish with a creative flare.
As I pulled the frittatas out of the oven, I heard one of the bodyguards talking to soone at the door. I glanced at the ti and drew my brows together. Who in the hell would be there so early in the morning? Taking off the oven mits, I moved through the house until I reached the entrance.
I stood back and blinked at the sight of Jessica Sullivan standing there. She was arguing with one of the guards before her eyes cut to and a smirk fell over her face. "There you are," she all but purred. "Can you please tell this man to let in?"
I paced forward, though I kept so distance. "What are you doing here, Jessica?" I asked.
"Well, it’s nice to see you too," she pouted.
I folded my arms. "It’s barely seven in the morning. What is the aning of coming over so early? Or, honestly, at all?" I retorted.
She shifted awkwardly and rubbed her arm as she stood in the doorway. "I would really rather discuss this in private. Please?" she asked.
I didn’t want to, and sothing in my gut was telling not to give in. I should have told Miguel to slam the door in her face and let the thought die with her. My curiosity was too strong, though. I reluctantly nodded and gave Miguel a reassuring look. I didn’t think Jessica was a danger to anyone. "Let’s go to the study to talk then," I replied.
The two of us moved through the halls until we reached the office. Stepping inside, I shut the door behind us to contain the noise. I moved over to my desk and leaned against it. I eyed her curiously. I had a feeling that I knew what she was there for, but why at such an hour? What was the purpose of it?
"Say whatever you ca here to say," I instructed after a couple of minutes of silence, my annoyance growing. I didn’t want to waste my ti standing there with her when I could have been enjoying a homade breakfast with my wife.
She wrung her hands and paced about anxiously. Her troubled deanor was making feel a bit worried, but I didn’t dare show that externally. I didn’t want her thinking I was sympathizing with her. I was just in a sensitive position in my own life.
"It’s hard," she began, still pacing back and forth. "I need to ask you sothing but I know the answer is going to be no. I have to ask, though. And I have to convince you."
I quirked a brow. "Well, what is it? Go ahead and say it."
"Please, just hear out," Jessica pleaded again. She turned in my direction and clasped her hands together in front of her. "I know that there are differences in point of view that are weighing heavily when it cos to our families. And I know what I need to ask sounds ridiculous but... Can you please, and I an pretty please, change your story in a way that helps Bernard’s sentence?"
I gaped at her and the audacity to ask such a question. "You can’t be serious. You can’t really think you’ll get a favorable answer to that."
She walked forward, drawing nearer to . "I don’t expect you to right away, but just rember who Bernard is. I know he can be an asshole, I know he can be entitled, but he’s still a good guy underneath it all. He got caught up in things he shouldn’t have been, but he’s human, Roman."
I averted my eyes and shook my head. "It doesn’t matter who he used to be. It takes a certain kind of person to even consider doing the things that he’s done—let alone actually do them. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind."
"Nothing at all?" she questioned, her voice drawing closer. I was not looking at her.
"Not at all," I stated matter-of-factly.
"Are you sure about that?" she purred.
The tone of her voice and how close it sounded caused to turn my head. She was right in front of then. Jessica draped her arms over my shoulders and stood between my legs as I sat on the desk. Her lower lip pouted and her lashes batted at .
"There’s nothing, nothing at all, I can do to change your mind?" Jessica questioned, putting on a bit of a baby voice.
I wanted to laugh at her. I wanted to laugh right in her face.
How could she possibly think I was that weak-willed? Not to ntion, I was a married man! The Sullivan family really had no morals. Who did she think she was to try and snake her way into my pants, in my ho, while my wife slept upstairs?
As much as I wanted to mock her or laugh at her, I held it all in. It wasn’t a savory path, but I saw it clearly.
I could exploit her attraction to and get information. I would just have to play her ga, just a little bit.
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