“And I suppose you are going to do what years and thousands of dollars of therapy couldn’t?” He let out a bitter chuckle. “Are you going to fix me, Miss Montgomery?”
I flinched at the cold way he said my name, but I pushed away the fear that said I was digging where I didn’t belong. With Jacob was where I belonged. And if I didn’t say this, if I couldn’t convince him, all of this would have been for nothing.
Jacob reached toward the panel. “I’ll get the driver to drop you at your hotel and-”
“No,” I cut in firmly. “You’re not going to run from me.”
He did a double take. “Excuse me?”
“Your father ran from the love of his life,” I said, not backing down even though his eyes flashed. “I’m not going to let you run from me.”
“What the hell do we have in common with my father and Allegra? You’re just a secretary.”
Before I would have slapped him. I would have written him off as another entitled jerk with a chip on his shoulder. But I knew him now. This was just the armor, the walls he put up to keep from getting close.
When I didn’t cringe or sulk away as far as possible, he tried again. “Is this about what I said before? Don’t mistake lust for something else, Leila.”
“And don’t mistake my tenure with Whitmore and Creighton for naiveté,” I fired back. “The way you look at me, the way you are with me when you let me see the real pieces of you is the real you. The condescending, unaffected thing might have worked a week ago, but now I know you.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes it is,” I threaded my fingers through his hand, not wavering. Not letting go. “You’re not your father, Jacob.” His jaw twitched so I said it again. “You’re not your father. You can be an ass sometimes, but I see past all that to the man who could have pressured me into doing something I wasn’t ready for because I agreed to a contract. But you waited. I see the man who chose me over Rachel Laraby and made me feel like there was no contest in the first place. I see the man who saw something in me that I didn’t even see in myself.”
It would have been the perfect time to tell him I loved him, but when he scooped me in his arms and kissed me deep, I just held tight to him, never wanting to let go.
****
I woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. My stomach let out a throaty grumble of hunger as the rest of me adjusted to the new day. A glance at the clock on the wall read 11am which meant I’d gotten ample sleep, but I still felt exhausted.
Last night, one glass of wine became two bottles as Jacob bared it all. He talked about having living a charmed life. Toys, trips, clothes, servants—but feeling utterly poor in the affection department. His mother only came alive when his father was around, but that was such a rare treat that most of his memories starred his nanny instead of the woman that brought him into the world.
And then his father took him to Venice. His memories of picnics, making breakfast with ‘Aunt Al’, even grocery shopping, were adventures as he recounted happier days. And then it went back to the loneliness. His father was around more, but it was different. His father’s unhappiness was like poison, breeding an environment of resentment. Suddenly, my complaints about my overbearing mother paled in comparison. At least I knew she loved me and didn’t secretly wonder if my existence was the point where her marriage began to crumble. And my father would have cut off a limb than let me go a day without knowing that he cared about me more than anything.
I kicked off the covers and rubbed my eyes as I padded to the bathroom. I twisted the faucet and splashed water on my face, grinning at the t-shirt and chiffon skirt folded neatly on top of the hamper. I decided on a quick shower before slipping into fresh clothes.
I walked down the stairs, pausing in the doorway as I watched Jacob. He was dressed down in a heather gray tee and jeans, his dark hair still wet from the shower. His face was bright and warm as he scooped eggs onto two porcelain plates.
He glanced up and cracked a grin. “Mornin’.”
“Good morning. It smells delicious in here.” I walked to the island, taking in the plates with surprise. “This was you?”
“Yep,” he grinned.
“Handsome, filthy rich, and can cook? Color me impressed.”
He picked up the plates and moved to a table beside the window. With the light streaming in, the dishes look like something out of a gourmet magazine.
“Had to have some way to entertain myself while my parents were busy avoiding each other.” He pulled out a chair for me then sat down in the one beside it. “My nanny made sure I could cook. She told me that even if I could afford Michelin star restaurants every night of the week, there was nothing sexier than a man that can cook.”
“She’s right,” I said with a wink. I scooped up a forkful of fluffy eggs and let out a moan as they went down.
I didn't realize how hungry I really was until I took a break in between bites and saw that Jacob was watching me with amusement. A glance at my plate made my eyes widen in horror. I must have been literally shoveling food in my mouth because there were only a few bites left!
I snatched up the napkin beside me and dabbed at my mouth in embarrassment. His raucous laugh didn't help matters.
"If I just wanted beautiful women to pick at my creations I would have become a chef," he smirked. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
I was still recovering and decided to flip the tables and watch him eat. "So how many angry voicemails did Rachel flood your inbox with last night?"
He swallowed and took a swig of his juice before answering. "Not a single one."
A chill ran over me, leaving goose bumps up and down my arms. Like someone was saying my name--while planning something especially horrific.
Jacob gave me a knowing look. "After her last stunt, I think she knows the score."
I ran my finger along the rim of my glass, the flutter making my heart ratchet up to a speed that was dangerous. After last night, there had been moments that I saw those three words screaming in his gaze. Searing in his touch. "So what is the score?"
His face dimmed. "That if she tries to come after you; after me--I'll handle her in Darwinian ways even she can't imagine."
I pursed my lips and sipped my OJ. Seeing him go to bat for me, for us, was hot. Completely. But I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't hoping for something more tacked on the end. For him to give me that look that undid me every time. Instead, he looked like he was ready to step in the ring.