Chapter Twenty-Two
Abigail
Iwoke alone the next morning, a note on the pillow beside me in Jacob's handwriting that read,
At the office, home early. REST.
I could do that. The evening before, meeting Jacob's family had been fun and educational—except for William Davis's brief presence—but it had wiped me out.
I wasn't sick any longer, just exhausted and weak. I lay in Jacob's big bed and tried to catch up with the events of the past week.
Everything had changed between Jacob and myself, and I didn't understand how or why. For a man who didn't do relationships, Jacob was treating me an awful lot like a girlfriend.
Maybe he couldn't help himself. As autocratic and commanding as he could be, as used to getting his way as he was, at his core, Jacob was a good man.
He'd helped me when he didn't have to, and this whole arrangement could have gone completely differently. With any other man, it would have.
I suspected that while Jacob had initially liked the idea of my being no more than a pet, over the long term, he couldn't sustain that kind of distance. Especially with me living in his house.
Just because he was starting to treat me like his girlfriend didn't make it true. I needed to remember that. We still had an arrangement.
We were not equals.
I remembered the conversation the night before about Vance's assistant, Magnolia, and her former fiancé.
Things like that happened to women all the time. I'm sure at some point, he'd asked her formally to be his wife, or maybe just said 'we should get married', and then started acting like they were a permanent couple.
She had probably responded to that vague promise and fallen into the role of future wife because he put her there, but Tate was right. No ring and no date made the assumption of engagement pretty weak.
Jacob could treat me like his girlfriend. He might be sweet and he might have moved me into his room, but I'd be an idiot if I read too much into that. He'd never said our deal had changed.
No matter what small things were different, as long as the arrangement hadn't been withdrawn or altered, I had to remember it stood between us.
If I hadn't had my mother to worry about, I would've ended it myself. I wasn't made for this. I couldn't keep my heart safe. Every day that passed, I longed for Jacob. I wanted more from him.
If I had to keep reminding myself about the way things stood between us, I was already in too deep. But I did have my mother to worry about, or I never would have approached Jacob in the first place. I couldn't reconcile my feelings.
A part of me bitterly regretted the position I'd put myself in, and another part was gleefully thrilled I'd finally had an excuse to get naked with Jacob Winters.
I needed to focus. I had no control over my relationship with Jacob. I could try to protect my heart, but that was pretty much a lost cause. I couldn't walk away while my mother needed me.
Jacob's talk about my going back to college was enticing, but it wasn't today's reality. In my future, I might have options. In my present day, I had no money and my mother to support.
I missed her. I missed her so much. There was a hollow ache in my chest every time I thought of her. The mother I remembered, the woman who'd raised me and loved me, was already gone.
Even a year ago, I still got brief glimpses of her, though they'd been getting fewer and further between no matter how often I visited. By the time John died, I was there every day, and she only remembered me a few times a month.
Worse, her mobility had declined, and she'd been having trouble communicating. I hadn't needed her doctor to tell me she was progressing to the final stages of her condition.
We'd been apart for weeks. I'd seen her a few days before I'd fled Big John's house. Since then, it hadn't been safe.
Now that Big John knew where I was, I wanted to go and see my mother. I knew it wouldn't be without danger. We'd already determined he had people watching Shaded Glenn. But surely, the Sinclairs could figure something out.
I wasn't worried about any risk to myself. I'd been worried about leading Big John to Jacob, but that was already done, and I couldn't stand going one more day without seeing my mother.
I'd been dreaming of her. Memories from when I was younger, before she got sick. Nightmares that she slipped away before I could see her again.
I couldn't stand the thought of losing her at all, but the idea that she might die without me there, before I could hold her hand one more time, was too much.
I got out of bed and took a quick shower. The kitchen was clean, only the container of leftover pasta in the refrigerator a clue that we'd had Jacob's family over the night before.
I was still tired, so I followed Jacob's orders, making tea and toast and taking them to the couch, where I settled in to watch more home improvement shows and maybe take a nap.
True to his word, Jacob came home early, letting himself in the penthouse in time for a late lunch. The sound of the door closing woke me and I sat bolt upright, my heart pounding before I realized no one but Jacob or his family could have let themselves in.
I moved to get up to make him lunch, but he said, "Stay there."
I obeyed, mostly because I didn't want to piss him off before I started making demands.
"Are you hungry?" he called from the kitchen.
I realized I was and called back, "A little."
My stomach still wasn't used to solid food, but I wanted something more than toast. At least my throat felt better. It was still the slightest bit tender, but not really sore. Jacob returned a few minutes later with two bowls of pasta.
Before I could stand, he waved me back and said, "Stay there. We'll eat on the couch."
Again, I didn't argue. At the first bite, my stomach roared to life, and I realized I wasn't just a little hungry. I was starving. I forgot about talking to Jacob and focused on inhaling my lunch.
Swallowing the last bite, I looked up to find Jacob watching me, a sexy quirk to his lips. Not quite a grin, but almost.
I wiped the sauce from my mouth and said, "What?"
He shook his head, the quirk blooming into a smile, and said, "Nothing. It's just nice to see you eating again. You had me worried for a while."
I didn't respond to that. Sweet Jacob still set me off balance, especially now that I was better.
Instead, I said, "We need to talk."
Jacob's eyes narrowed on me in suspicion and, I thought, maybe worry.
"What do we need to talk about?"
Taking a deep breath for courage, I said, "I want to see my mother. I know it's dangerous, but it's been weeks. I've never gone this long without seeing her. Not since she got sick, and I can't—"
Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over, dripping down my cheeks. I reached for the mask of dignity I used to protect myself when I felt threatened, but I couldn't find it.
I was raw and open in front of Jacob, without defenses, and I hated it, hated being so dependent on anyone, hated the fear for my mother.
Suspicion washed away under what looked like relief before his eyes went wide with alarm. There was a note of panic in his voice when he said, "Sweetheart, don't cry. Don't cry. We'll figure something out."
I put my hands over my face, blocking my view of him, but more importantly, hiding my tears. He reached for me, and I tried to lean away, but he ignored me, pulling me into his arms and stroking my back. I was tired of feeling like a mess.
My breath hitched in my chest as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, trying to get myself together. Sitting back, I said, "I don't know how much time she has left, Jacob. I don't want to be reckless, but I need to see her before it's too late."
Jacob nodded. "I came home early to check on you, but also because I have a meeting with Cooper and Evers, and I wanted to see if you'd like to come with me."
"Yes, please. Can we ask them about visiting my mother?"
"I'll make a deal with you," Jacob said. "We'll ask. If they think they can get you in with an acceptable degree of safety, we'll do it. But Cooper is a risk taker. If he says no, he's got a damn good reason, and we're going to listen to him, okay?"
"Okay," I agreed.
I wasn't completely irrational, even if I was feeling emotional. I wanted to see my mother. I needed to see my mother. I also knew she would be furious if I got myself killed in the process.
At least, she would have been when she still remembered who I was. But, of all the things I'd done in the last few years of which I knew she would not approve, getting myself killed would be at the top of the list.
I had just enough time to change and put on some makeup before the Sinclair security vehicle would arrive in the garage to transport us to their offices.
I pinned up my hair and put on a little more makeup than I'd been using lately in celebration of my first foray outside the penthouse since I'd arrived weeks before.
I debated over what to wear, then settled for the most businesslike outfit I had, a pale pink Chanel suit, more suited to a ladies’ lunch than an office, but still more appropriate for a meeting than a sundress or one of my yoga pants & hoodie outfits.
The suit, composed of an A-line dress with a somewhat short skirt and fitted jacket, flattered my curvy figure without showing too much leg or cleavage.
I liked my body, most of the time. When I wasn't at a social event surrounded by bony women in tiny black dresses, I loved my body. I was fuller figured then most of the women I knew, but I had a nice curve to my waist and my full breasts were fairly perky for their size.
I looked like a 1940s pinup, and the flare in the suit skirt emphasized the comparison. I couldn't resist the cream leather spike heels on the floor of my closet.
I didn't know where they'd come from. I hadn't ordered them. I recognized the designer, and I knew the shoes cost hundreds of dollars.
My wardrobe at Jacob's had started with the few items Rachel had purchased for me and been augmented by my own online shopping, but a few pieces here and there, mostly lingerie and shoes, had shown up out of nowhere.
It was hard to imagine Jacob shopping, but I couldn't see him asking Rachel to buy me lingerie. Shoes, maybe.
I sincerely hoped she had not purchased some of the lingerie. I'd never be able to look her in the eye again if she'd been the one to select any of the wispy, lacy collection of La Perla in the drawer.
I wasn't even going to consider the thought of Rachel choosing the black satin bustier with silver buckles and matching thong from Agent Provocateur.
I left the bedroom on time and met Jacob at the door, gratified to see his eyes go dark as he scanned me from head to toe.
"Maybe I can move our appointment," he murmured against my lips as he pulled me in for a kiss. "It's been days."
"Poor baby," I teased. My body had been half-dead while I was sick, sex the last thing on my mind. At the touch of Jacob's lips to mine and the heat of his fingers pulling up the hem of my skirt to skim over my hip, every nerve in my body roared back to life.
Without meaning to, I shifted my stance, spreading my legs just a little, making room for his hand as it slid around my hip to skim the thin lace of my panties.
Abruptly, Jacob dropped his hand and stepped back, leaving me cold, my knees shaky. Before I could speak, he opened the door and said, "Let's go."
I stood beside him in the elevator, painfully aware of the emptiness between us, my nipples hard, my breasts full and ready for his touch, wishing his hand were back between my legs.