Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jo
“ I don’t want you out of my hair,” he admits right behind me, following me to the guesthouse.
He stops in the doorway as if he’s afraid to go further.
“You’ve made it clear that you do.” I avoid eye contact by sitting down to finish my makeup.
“You don’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“From here on out, I don’t want there to be any confusion. I am your boss, you’re my employee. That’s all,” he states seriously, stepping forward to look at me in the reflection of my little mirror.
Except, his eyes are trained on my lips as I apply chapstick.
“You don’t want me to come over and watch movies, or eat ice cream?”
“No, you can still come do that.”
“Then I shouldn’t walk with you around the property?” I ask, drawing a line of nude lip liner around my lips.
He steps closer, his gaze never wavering from my mouth.
“You can walk with me.”
“What exactly is it that you’re wanting then?” I smear the nude lipstick across my bottom lip, and his hands grip the back of my chair.
“Don’t touch me,” he pleads, finally forcing his eyes to mine in the mirror.
“You can’t touch me anymore.”
“Oh.” Embarrassment floods my system.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“Don’t do that, don’t take it for something it isn’t. I’m drawing a boundary for your own good, trust me.” He tears his attention from the mirror and drags his hands down his face.
“For my own good,” I utter under my breath, focusing on the mirror long enough to hate the lip color I chose.
I pick up a makeup wipe to smear it off as he stares at me.
I avoid his gaze as I fiddle with my lipstick tubes, shifting them around, pretending to choose a new one so he doesn’t see the confusion on my face.
The hurt.
He sees me as a naive young woman, another person who refuses to let me make my own choices.
“I’ll be ready in a few minutes. I need to find some jewelry, but it spilled in the bottom of my suitcase.” I stand from my seat without picking a color, and he backs up as if the boundary he put up between us is physically in the room, keeping us separated.
He moves toward the door, and I think he’s going to leave without saying anything, but he stops suddenly at the threshold.
“Wear the red lipstick,” he suggests over his shoulder, disappearing from the doorway.
I pick up the gold tube and twist it in my fingers.
The red lipstick that I love but my mother hates.
She’d be disgusted .
A minute later, I hear his steps approaching my door again, but his voice reaches me before he does.
“This probably isn’t helpful, but I have some of my grandmother’s old jewelry if you want to look through it.” He stops suddenly in my open door, noticing my red lips.
He opens his mouth to say something, and I hope he might compliment me, but he shuts it again before clearing his throat.
He’s holding a wooden jewelry box I recognize from one of the shelves in the living room, and he pops it open as I step towards him.
A gasp escapes me.
“These are beautiful pieces.”
Real gold and silver, gems of all sizes and colors, authentic turquoise.
My eyes are drawn to a vintage gold cluster ring with tiny diamonds; the floral pattern is stunning and will match the earrings I already have in.
“Your grandmother had great taste. Is this okay?” I ask, slipping the ring onto my middle finger.
He nods subtly and doesn’t say another word to me as we all pile into the trucks and go to the event.
He doesn’t speak to anyone or even look in my direction.
I thought maybe the lipstick would push his boundary just a little, but it seems like it had the opposite effect.
He’s stepping further away.
We arrive at the estate where the event is taking place, and he disappears as soon as we walk through the doors.
It doesn’t matter.
This is work, and I have a job to do.
“JoAnna.” My mother’s stuck-up voice slumps my shoulders immediately.
“Why on earth do you keep associating with those thugs?”
“They aren’t thugs. ”
“They’ve been to prison,” she hisses.
“So? Did you need something? I need to make my rounds.” The red lipstick is giving me an edge of confidence that I did not have the last time I spoke to this woman.
“I need you to come with me.” She gestures for me to follow her, but I don’t move.
“Really, JoAnna? When are you going to grow up?”
“What, Mom? What do you want from me?”
She waves someone out of sight over, and I sigh.
“It’s time to push for publicity before we get into the final months of your brother’s campaign.”
His campaign manager, Austin, walks through the crowd, approaching us, and I take a deep breath to curb my annoyance because my brother and father are right behind him.
Great.
“What is going on?” I ask even though I really don’t care to know.
“We need to make things official.”
“What things?”
“In two weeks, Austin will propose at the Biltmore Gala.”
Plates crash, water spills, and someone in the distance screams in terror.
Except the room doesn’t falter because it’s all in my head.
This can’t be happening again, not after how far I’ve gotten away from them.
“No.”
“This isn’t up for debate, your father approves. The perception will be excellent for your brother’s image.”
“What? That we’re a big, happy family?” I screech, causing a few heads to swivel in our direction.
My mother smiles politely, redirecting their attention and then gritting her teeth at me.
“Your brother isn’t ready for marriage, but being associated with an engaged couple will boost his likability.”
“He isn’t ready? He’s ten years older than I am!”
“JoAnna, you’ll calm down this instance,” my father demands.
“No,” I cry out, stepping back as they team up in front of me, crowding me like evil invaders.
I’m trapped with my back against the wall, literally.
My panicked gaze flits across the room until it latches onto the only eyes that blanket me in safety.
Looming over the crowd, his stature filters through all the chaos.
He’s facing a couple of people, but his focus is on me because he always finds me in a room.
His brows furrow deeper as my internal temperature rises.
“We’ll start spreading the word tonight that you two have been seeing each other. It’s official,” my mother quips haughtily.
“I can’t be engaged to Austin.”
“And, why not?”
My fingertips graze the gold ring on the middle finger of my left hand, and I take a deep breath, slipping it off and onto the finger to its left.
“Because I’m already engaged.”
“WHAT!” The chorus of outrage rings out, but I can’t pay attention to who is the angriest.
All I can see is Lochlan’s confused expression from across the room.
He has no idea what I’m about to do.
I’m so sorry.
I plead with my eyes anyway, hoping that I can get away with using him to save myself one last time.
“I’m engaged to Lochlan Dane,” I state boldly, preparing to reap the consequences of my actions.