Chapter Twenty-Five JACKIE #3
His voice drops low, temper rising. “Yeah, well… I didn’t need that lesson.
I knew exactly who you were and I worshiped the ground you walked on.
” He pauses, his gaze dragging up my legs, slowly, until our eyes meet.
“But I was your dirty little secret, wasn’t I? Ashamed to tell your parents about me?”
His words land hard and sharp, like a slap.
“What? Never!” I gasp. “But Dad was…you know. He saw alliances everywhere.” He would have ruined everything. He was already planning to marry me to some mogul’s son.
“Yes. I remember,” Adam mutters, bitterness edging every syllable.
“Look.” That doubt haunting me swells, pulling me back from an argument. “It’s been years. I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“That’s hard to believe,” he says dryly.
He has to know it wasn’t easy for me either. The silence also took a toll on me.
“I wanted to call you one night. To talk.” I swallow the lump of unease choking me. “But some girl tagged you in a picture. You seemed happy. Unbothered.” It nailed the idea that I really didn’t mean much to him.
His face remains impassive. “So you wanted me to be miserable to show you I cared?” A dark chuckle, low enough to raise the hairs on my neck, rumbles in his chest. “Joke’s on you. I was fucking desperate.”
The air in the room thins, his confession hanging heavy. Adam clamps his mouth, jaw flexing, hands gripping the armrests. He looks away, out the large windows, like he regrets letting that slip.
Heat licks my cheeks. Facing the aftermath of my actions is uncomfortable and has my stomach in knots. More so as the truth is carving its way out; I can feel it in my bones.
Who can blame him for having his walls up? But what I do know is that our truce was the happiest time for me in a long time. Selfish as it might be, I want more time with him. For all the years apart, this, us, still hums beneath the surface, waiting to ignite.
“Would you come with us?” The words slip out before I can second-guess them. “Please.”
Adam raises a brow, fixing me with a hard stare.
“To Venice,” I clarify quickly. “I know it’s short notice. And you’re probably busy.” I babble nervously and don’t seem to know how to stop. “You don’t have to—”
“Already told Carter I’d go.” Adam tilts his head and casually rests his arm on the back of the armchair, jacket parting enough to reveal the crisp white shirt stretched across his chest. The way it dips into the waistband of his slacks makes my fingertips tingle. To touch. To rip open and explore.
A strangled Oh is the single coherent sound that escapes me.
“Couldn’t pass up a free trip to Italy,” he says with the barest hint of humor in his voice, as his other hand drops onto his strong thigh.
I laugh awkwardly. “I thought you wanted to keep me company.”
What’s wrong with me?
Adam’s lips curve, but the muscle in his jaw ticks. “Not everything is about you, princess.”
I keep staring at the lining of the empty luggage, clutching two dresses to my chest. The explosion at the office was bad enough. But the minutes I spent curled on the floor of the car, heart slamming in my chest, still crawl under my skin.
I’m a realist. The only logical reason to grab me would be ransom. At least I have insurance for that. But how far are they willing to go?
Would it be easier for everyone if I just left for London? That way I’d be farther away from the office…and my family.
I slump on the edge of the bed, head in my hands.
Maybe after Venice, I just fly directly to England.
And stay gone. My room in Carter’s penthouse is too quiet.
Almost empty. The pressure in my chest swells again, pushing outward.
It’s relentless and sharp, my hands turning clammy as my breath stutters.
Everyone’s been keeping me busy, filling my days to the point I don’t have time to overthink what happened. Brunch with Mom, a trip to Italy. All to distract me from the fact that two days ago, somebody was chasing me down a public road.
I want to talk to somebody who won’t sugarcoat it. Or treat me with kid gloves.
“Jackie, darling.”
His voice is deep, familiarly warm, making my throat close instantly.
The tension snaps, my breathing coming out in short, broken bursts, the bridge of my nose burning.
“Hello?” he calls. “Did you pocket dial me?”
It takes everything I have to push the words out. “Does the offer still stand?”
Then the dam breaks, and I start sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face, breath hitching so hard it hurts.
“Oh, my dear,” Cecil murmurs. “That won’t do.”
“I’m sorry, I—” But I can’t finish the sentence.
“Poppet, breathe.” I hear him inhale and exhale on the other end. “Just like that.”
I follow along, shaking and sniffing. “I think,” I manage, voice warped and uneven, “I should disappear. Maybe hide at the manor for a while?”
Cecil’s family estate is an actual castle, with endless gardens, passed down through the line of firstborns. I’ve always loved going down to the stables and treating the ponies, Dottie and Lottie, with some apples.
“Listen. You can always come here,” he says. “Damn, I hate to point it out, because I miss you. But don’t make decisions out of fear masked as responsibility. It will eat you alive when it’s all over.” He pauses. “This will pass. It might not be pleasant. But it will pass. I promise.”
I slide down to the floor, back resting against the bed frame, fingers raking through my hair.
“It feels endless,’ I say hoarsely. “It keeps coming.”
“I know it feels like your entire world is falling apart. But I also know you. And how you keep yourself together. I know you can handle it.” He sighs, and I hear the creak of the leather as he settles into his favorite chair.
“It’s acceptable to want to give up. You’re allowed to be shaken.
Just not defeated. Nothing so far is beyond repair. ”
“But what if something irreparable happens?”
“You can’t mourn what hasn’t happened yet,” he says simply. “Take a deep breath and keep moving forward. I’ve always admired how you strive to be a better person every day. Keep doing that. You have the upper hand. Resources and a whole team behind you.”
My heartbeat slows, the vice on my lungs loosening. “That’s true.”
“You’ll always be welcomed, darling. But you’d already be here if you wanted to be,” he adds, the deep understanding of how I think shining through.
I needed a good pep talk from Cecil to realize I’d let panic overwhelm me. The offices and labs are secured better than the Pentagon. Our family has round-the-clock security.
“Does it ever get tiring,” I ask weakly, “being this wise and all-knowing all the time?”
“It’s a burden I carry with great responsibility.” A yawn slips through.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry. I was in such a state of panic, I didn’t think it was the middle of the night there.”
“I’m most honored you called. It’s fine, William should be landing any minute. Heard he had a great time with you in Maine.”
I stiffen. I can’t keep letting him think there is something between us. Even if it means he won’t be so welcoming anymore. “Mr. Errington…Will and I are not—” I falter. “We’re just good friends.”
I met him at the B&B on his final morning in town. We sat on the narrow balcony looking over the harbor, while I tried to find a way to say the words without choking on them. Telling him that what we had was never going to turn into something more felt like a betrayal of his kindness.
But gracious as ever, the true gentleman he is, he squeezed my hands and gave me the gift of his understanding. I’ve never been so relieved. He then admitted he’d let his feelings for me cloud his judgment and apologized for acting so out of character toward Adam.
“It’s quite all right. It changes nothing, darling. I remain enormously proud of you. Whatever you decide, you won’t face it alone.”
My arms go limp as we end the call, phone rolling on the floor. I sit there, staring at the abstract painting on the wall, when the encrypted phone vibrates.
It’s a notification from Radu.
Thumb hovering above the pop-up, I hesitate. Because I know what it’s about.
Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe it’s not the right thing to do. I’ve lived for eight years inside a story where he betrayed me. If this rewrites history, what does that make me?
But my insecurities win, and I open it.
Pieces of text come in and out of focus as I scroll through the message, a fog rising behind my lids.
Only professional correspondence between A. E. and the individuals on the list…
A. E. is mentioned multiple times by B. Below are the texts referencing A. E.… date-stamped… starting eight years ago…
Blanca made it all up. There are messages between her and one of her sorority cronies. The loud thump of my pulse increases with every line I read. As does the overwhelming feeling that I’m going to lose the contents of my stomach.
Which I do.
Repeatedly, after I barely make it to the nearest toilet, heaving and retching until there’s nothing left but the burn in my throat and the crushing weight of the truth.
I brace my hands on the cold sink, staring into the mirror. I barely recognize the woman looking back in the too-bright bathroom.
Eight years. I built an entire life on a mistake.
Eight years of fury and pride. I was certain—
And he never even…
I cup water in my hand and rinse my mouth, furious at my reflection. I walked away from him because I was afraid of being wrong.
And, God, I was. So completely wrong.
Red mist floods my vision, and without a second thought, I rush through the door. I slip past the guards before anyone can stop me, the soles of my shoes striking marble as I make a beeline for the elevator that leads underground. One of them manages to wedge himself in before the doors slide shut.
“Miss Rawlings,” he starts carefully. “We didn’t have anything on the schedule today.”
“Unforeseen situation.” My foot taps nervously on the gray floor, while it crawls downward. “Do you know Park, just north of 70th?”
He nods briskly.
“Good.” I gesture toward the rows of black cars. “You’re driving.”
Blanca opens the door with a surprised smile that falters when I shoulder past her into the circular sitting room without waiting for permission.
“What a pleasant surprise,” she chirps. “Though you’d left already. I was about to meet the girls, do you want to come?” Her gaze flicks over my casual clothes and disheveled hair. “Maybe borrow an outfit—”
“You lied to me.”
She’s looking at me all innocently, in her fitted yellow dress and heels, while rage I’ve never felt before courses down to my bones.
“About Adam.” My voice shakes. I can’t even form proper sentences, I’m so seething. “And the bar.”
Her brows knit. “I’m not quite sure what you mean. You don’t look well, let’s get you a tonic.” She steps forward to reach for my arm.
“Don’t touch me.” The words scrape out of my throat. “I know you and your sorority friends concocted the story.”
She opens her mouth, but I cut her off. “Don’t try to deny it.”
Something in her expression shifts, calculating now. She straightens and crosses her arms. “It was for your own good.”
A short, broken laugh tumbles out. “What?”
“He wasn’t right for you!” Her tone sharpens. “Have you not been listening to anything I’ve been telling you, all these years? You couldn’t be slumming it with a nobody.”
“It was never your call to make!” My hands shake at my sides. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I am,” Blanca says quickly. “That’s why I had to protect you. You were blind.”
I turn on my heel, pacing the polished floor, my footsteps echoing too loudly in the large space. I want to grab one of the expensive antique vases and throw it at her.
“When you told me about Will, I thought everything was going to be fine. And then I’d find my own husband, and we’d both have the life we always dreamed of.”
Before I left London, Will told me he loved me. His voice was so sure when he said it, like he had no doubts about us. And I stood there, frozen. I didn’t want to lie to him and lead him on when I wasn’t even close to feeling the same way.
Will was fun. No pressure or expectations. At least until he dropped them all at my feet and I couldn’t even fathom the possibility. My soul didn’t call back to him. I couldn’t picture myself building a life with him.
“You dreamed of.” I point my finger in her direction, taking a few steps toward her, and she retreats. “The life you dreamed of!”
I never wanted to have a marriage like a merger. I wanted to be with someone who saw me as I was. Ambitious. Perhaps a bit of a control freak. And still loved me fiercely. Someone like…Adam.
Blanca gasps, tears gathering fast, lips trembling.
“Was that your plan?” I level her with a razor-thin look. “When you both came to visit me? To help?” my voice raises, “Play matchmaker for a man I. Don’t. Want!”
“I didn’t like how that pushy arriviste came back into your life,” she snaps, still having the audacity to try to explain herself.
“His name is Adam!” I yell, my skin hot. “God, I can’t believe you did that to me.” My chest caves in on itself, leaving nothing but a cold, aching void where my trust in her used to be. “You destroyed the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
And I fucking let her.