Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
JULIET
Sunlight is streaming through the cracks in the heavy curtains of my bedroom, casting golden stripes across the rumpled silk sheets. I hardly slept all night. I've tossed and turned all night. Even now, my mind is a whirlwind of forbidden touches and guilt. I am exhausted yet restless.
It's become my routine to get up early and have breakfast with Freya before she heads off to school. Those quiet moments with her were like a bright spot in this tangled web, but today I simply can’t get up. My body feels heavy and languorous, and between my legs, my clit is swollen and throbbing.
The clock on the nightstand glares 8:15 when I finally drag myself out of bed.
I don’t want to miss Freya, so I decide to go down in my nightie.
It’s a delicate, lacy slip in ivory silk with thin spaghetti straps, but I paired it with a matching robe that flows loosely around me.
I’m adequately covered up and it's comfortable, but as I pad down the grand staircase with my hair tousled and feet bare on the cool hardwood, I feel exposed and vulnerable, like I've forgotten my armor.
I head into the cozy nook by the bay window overlooking the manicured lawns in the kitchen, where we usually have a quiet breakfast. The air is scented with fresh coffee and warm croissants, and the granite island is scattered with fresh fruits and cereals, but Freya’s not in the kitchen.
I hear laughter spilling out, bright and carefree from the conservatory.
It's Freya's giggle, high and infectious, but then it mixes with a deeper rumble that sends a shiver down my spine—Blake.
It stops me in my tracks. Memories of his mouth on me last night flash hot and unbidden, making my cheeks flush as I pause in the doorway.
I start to back out, but Freya has noticed me through the glass doors. She runs towards me, her curls bouncing, her face lighting up.
"Carolyn! Come join us!" she calls, grabbing my hand with her fingers, sticky from whatever jam she's smeared on her toast.
I want to bolt back to my room, hide under the covers and pretend last night didn't happen, that his touch didn't set me on fire, but I don't want to cower. I don’t want to show how rattled I am, so I straighten my robe, tie the sash a little tighter, and go in.
I go to meet Blake with what I hope is a composed smile.
He's dressed casually since it's a Saturday. No suit today. Instead, he’s in a fitted navy polo that hugs his broad shoulders and chest, paired with dark jeans that sit low on his hips.
His dark hair is damp as if he's just got out of the shower.
He smiles at me as I enter, a slow, knowing curve of his lips that makes my stomach flip.
Dear heaven, my heart nearly stops. Heat rushes through me as our eyes lock, and memories of his face between my thighs come flooding back, making my fists clench involuntarily.
Freya bounces back into her seat, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. "Sit with us, Carolyn! We're having breakfast here 'cause the sun's so pretty!"
The sight of them together—father and daughter in this sun-dappled space—twists something in my chest.
I tell myself I’ve nothing to be afraid of. This is just breakfast, just a little family gathering, not a confrontation. Quietly, I slide into the chair across from Blake. The robe slips open slightly at the thigh before I tug it closed, my skin prickling under his intense scrutiny.
I eat slowly, picking at a croissant, tearing at its flaky layers, and absently dipping the pieces into a dollop of strawberry jam while I listen to Freya chatter excitedly about plans to build a pond where she intends to grow a whole family of tadpoles into frogs.
She's got it all mapped out—planting reeds and lilies that she plans to get from the nursery in town, stringing fairy lights along the paths.
Her words tumble out between bites of muffin.
“What do you think, Carolyn?” she asks.
I lean in and suggest we add some plants that will bring in insects, and they will be the food for the frogs.
She nods vigorously in agreement, and I am impressed by how steady my voice is even as I feel Blake's eyes on me, tracing my face, my exposed collarbone where the lace dips low.
It makes my pulse race, and heat bloom under my skin.
I shift in my seat, crossing my legs under the table.
Freya claps her hands, thrilled. "We can start today! Let’s start today. Can we go today after I come back from school?"
She laughs suddenly, covering her mouth. "Wait, it's Saturday! No school today. We can get started now!" She turns to Blake, her eyes wide and pleading. "Dad, do you have work?"
He looks at me first, his gaze lingering, that smile tugging at his lips again, and says, "I have a meeting, but I'll be back soon. I'll join you then."
Freya squeals happily, bouncing in her chair as she plans aloud. “Who will dig the pond? Shall we ask Josh?”
“Whose Josh?”
“The gardener.”
“Oh, right. Of course.”
Blake tenses slightly, but I'm too tired to really notice or focus on him.
My mind is still foggy from lack of sleep, the events of last night replaying in loops that leave me dazed.
Perhaps I need to sleep more to clear my head, shake off this haze, but more than that, I do need to talk to someone, vent about the confusion swirling inside me.
The desire, the guilt, the fear of blurring lines too far.
Definitely not the real Carolyn. She'll flip if she ever finds out about last night. Even so, it’s not really my fault.
If anything, it’s hers. She promised me that Blake has absolutely no interest at all in sex with her, but the truth is, he is like a dog in heat.
I’ll call Emma, with her no-nonsense advice and grounding presence.
I have to be careful, though. The walls have ears in this place.
Every whisper could potentially be overheard by staff.
The last thing I need is to derail all Carolyn’s careful plans by having loose lips.
I’ll leave the house, get out where I can speak freely without paranoia creeping in.
"Um, I just remembered I have an appointment to meet a friend " I say suddenly, setting down my half-eaten croissant, my voice a little too bright.
"Can we do it tomorrow, sweetie? That way Josh can dig out the pond and fill it up with water today, and we can populate it with lovely tadpoles tomorrow. "
Freya sulks for a moment, her bottom lip poking out, but she nods and agrees with a dramatic sigh. "Okay. You promise?"
"I promise," I say solemnly, ruffling her curls.
Blake leaves then, excusing himself with a nod, his chair scraping back as he stands. I watch him go, relief mixing with a pang of wistfulness. I don't want him to go. My heart wants him to stay.
Eventually, Freya leaves for school, and I head up to my bedroom. I feel quite light-headed and in a dream world, and I almost float up the stairs like a ghost, my robe fluttering around my legs. From the kitchen, I can hear sounds, but other than that there is no one around.
My body relaxes as I meet no one and I’m almost at my door, but then, out of nowhere, Josh, muscular and burly, his work boots tracking dirt on the carpet, grabs my hand out of nowhere, and pulls my startled body toward a shadowed alcove.
My heart leaps into my throat, but I can't raise my voice, or I’ll call attention to us, especially with the maids potentially nearby.
“What are you doi- let go!" I hiss furiously.
He doesn’t. Instead, he backs me into my bedroom, kicks the door closed, and tries to kiss me. His lips capture mine. They are rough and demanding. He is pushing towards the bed.
With my hands flat on his chest, I shove with all my might, but he can’t be budged. I am left with no choice but to bite his lip—hard. He yelps, pulling back with a hand to his mouth while I am left with the metallic tang of blood on my tongue. He stares at me with surprise.
“What the fuck?” he mutters.
I'm pissed at him, adrenaline surging hot through me, and I tell him straight, my voice low and fierce, "Are you insane? This is not a relationship. I’m your fucking boss. I don’t care what we did in the past, but you need to behave yourself from now on, or else I’m going to fire your dumb ass.”
He looks so hurt and confused, his brow furrowing, that I actually feel bad for him. I can see he really felt something for Carolyn, and I've shattered something fragile. He looks at me, rubbing his lip and wincing.
To soften the blow, or maybe to get him out faster, I add, "Blake has become suspicious. We should cool it for a few months. Maybe three months."
He nods reluctantly, then mutters a confused apology before slipping out.
I breathe a sigh of relief when the door clicks shut behind him.
I really need to speak with Emma, and I can’t wait another day.
I am almost desperate by this point. I pull out the secret burner phone from under the mattress, my hands still shaking as I dial her number.
She picks up on the second ring, her voice bright and familiar. "Jules? Hey sweetie, how’s it going?”
“Can you spare a few hours? I really need to talk."
“Of course. When and where?”
“How about a day at the Spa?” I suggest.
She agrees without hesitation, excitement in her tone. “Absolutely, let's do it.”