Chapter 2
JON
I stepped onto the platform and took in the long line of sleek blue train carriages with a clean white stripe down the sides.
Being here was bittersweet. On the one hand, I’d never expected to actually make it to my dream holiday.
On the other, I’d only pulled the trigger on such an extravagant expense to get me as far away as possible from the man I loved.
After all these years, I never expected the final straw would be something as benign as a fancy-dress fundraiser, but it was.
As I’d helped him with his costume that night—a simple white tank top and baseball cap wig—Iggy had vibrated with excitement.
He’d chosen it to create a stir, and as usual, once Iggy fixed his heart on something, nothing on earth would shake him.
He’d considered that night’s costume his “funniest, sexiest” idea to date.
But as I stepped close to apply the large “No Ragrets” tattoo to Iggy’s waxed upper chest and prepared to watch him walk out the door without me once again, I began to feel the deep, soul-crushing irony of the tattoo’s message.
Had I stepped forward another few inches, the tip of my nose would have fit perfectly into the dip between his collarbone, smelling his Jo Malone Whisky but with a crowd of hangers-on who only valued his name and status.
He’d stopped encouraging me to attend events with him—invitations I’d always appreciated, though never accepted.
He didn’t talk to me about the parties he attended or the people he’d met, let alone the people he went home with on a near-nightly basis.
In fact, he hardly spoke to me anymore at all.
On the rare occasions he was home, there was a kind of restless energy to him, like he couldn’t wait to be away again.
It was clear that whatever place I’d had in his life was no longer mine. I couldn’t stop it, and I’d known, as certainly as I knew I loved him, that I couldn’t stand by and watch distance grow between us.
So I’d smoothed the tattoo over his chest, taking way too much time to press it against his hot skin. I’d waited for him to walk out the door. Then I’d packed my things and left.
For four straight days, I’d had to practically handcuff myself to the hotel bed to keep from flinging myself at his feet in apology and begging to come home.
I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted Ignatius Corbridge, but he wasn’t meant for me.
There were a million reasons why—the twenty years of personal service between us, the fact that I was a former soldier with no degrees and no pedigree, while he was an elite member of the posh set, born with a silver-and-diamond chandelier shining down on him from above.
But the most important was that Iggy was going places, and I was so very bone-tired of watching him go without me.
It was high time I went somewhere myself.
The train platform was busy, but not nearly as crowded as a commuter platform would be. This luxury liner carried fewer than a hundred passengers, which was good. I was in South Africa searching for peace and quiet.
The beginning of a new life, I thought as I stepped into the car. My fresh start.
Working for the Corbridge family had been lucrative. It was one of the reasons I stayed for so long, even when it started to break me. Taking a safari train through Africa was a dream come true, and I wouldn’t have been able to afford it without Iggy and his family. I was grateful, truly.
Now, I would use this journey to plan my future—a cozy life in a small, picturesque village somewhere outside of London where I could afford a cottage with a garden. A life where I wasn’t Iggy’s valet or Iggy’s friend or Iggy’s… anything. I would simply be—
“Jon!”
I closed my eyes and told myself I was imagining the familiar voice. I refused to waste this trip with a detour to a mental facility.
I opened my eyes and took another step, and then I heard it again.
“Jonathan Banks.”
I turned around slowly to see both the best and worst thing that could possibly be following me onto this train.
Ignatius Corbridge.
The absolute, without-a-doubt, hands-down love of my life.