Chapter Twelve #3
Jack scratched at his jaw as if he had been bitten by an insect. ‘Is that what you want?’
Of course, it wasn’t what she wanted but how could she tell him what her real desire was?
Their affair had to end. It had no future and she had known it from the start but had gone ahead and fallen for him anyway.
Her heart ached like it was being pulled apart in her chest. She straightened her spine and craned her neck to meet his gaze.
‘I want to represent my client without any complications from being involved with her estranged husband’s lawyer.
I can’t act for her to my best ability with you in my private life. ’
‘We weren’t committing a crime, Sylvie. It was just sex between two consenting adults.’ His casual attitude to what they had shared shredded what hope she had clung to that he had somehow developed feelings for her.
Sylvie made a move to leave but Jack stepped in front of her. ‘I didn’t use you to distract you from the case. I don’t want us to part with you thinking of me like that.’ His tone was heavy with gravitas, his eyes steady and serious on hers.
‘Oh, you have some regard for what I think of you, then, do you? I thought your devil-may-care attitude was across all areas of your life.’ Sylvie saw him flinch as if she had slapped him but her sarcasm was her only way to protect herself from falling back into his arms. She knew she was projecting her anger at herself on him but it was the only way she could break things off with him.
She had to use her anger as a shield, as her armour.
‘We had a good time together, Sylvie. I don’t regret a moment of it. And to quote a famous film, “At least we’ll always have Paris.”’
Now it was Sylvie’s turn to flinch but she was careful enough to do it on the inside.
His words were like a sucker punch to her heart.
How on earth did he know one of her favourite films of all time was the bittersweet romantic classic Casablanca?
Their trip to Paris was not something she was going to forget anytime soon.
Sylvie stepped past him but this time he didn’t stop her.
She walked out of his house and didn’t look back.
She wanted to. Desperately. But there was no turning back on her decision to end their fling.
Jack didn’t feel anything but lust for her and she refused to cheapen herself, to rob herself of the love she knew deep down she deserved.
Jack’s front door snicked closed and he let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.
Sylvie’s words were still spooling through his brain like ticker tape having a tantrum.
He was so blindsided by her decision to end their fling he couldn’t get his thoughts into any working order.
But it wasn’t just his thoughts that were spinning out of control—it was having an effect on his body.
His chest ached as if an anvil was tied to the bottom of his heart, dragging it down, down, down.
Every breath he took hurt, every movement he made sent shock waves of pain through his body.
Seeing Sylvie and not being able to touch her was a form of torture.
He’d been looking forward to spending the evening together but instead she had ended their relationship.
Why was that such a big deal for him?
Jack drew in a deep breathe then released it in a whoosh of frustration.
A hint of Sylvie’s perfume lingered in the air as if to taunt him.
He went to the kitchen and living area but fought against the desire to look at her house to see if he could see her.
What was wrong with him? He wasn’t a lovesick teenager with raging hormones.
He was an adult in full control of his emotions.
He was always ahead of the game in flings.
He had never had anyone pull the plug on a relationship before now.
Was that why he was feeling so… What was he feeling?
He was so used to smothering his feelings before they took hold, he didn’t even know how to describe what he was feeling right now.
It was a combination of shock, anger and frustration.
And yet there was more deep down inside him but he didn’t want to open the vault.
The lock on his heart was rusted in place and he was not going to prise it open.
So what if their fling ended? It had been fun while it lasted.
Loads of fun. The best fun he’d had in ages…
possibly ever. But he would find another lover soon enough.
Jack was a playboy by choice. He made sure his life didn’t have room for anything but no-strings relationships.
Yes, he was cynical about relationships even though he had friends like Ben who were happily married.
And soon his brother Jago would be married to Mollie, whether or not Jonas came home in time.
Jack had no right to be feeling let down and lost and…he flinched at the thought…lonely.
No. He wasn’t the lonely type. He refused to think about the word, let alone feel the emotion.