Chapter 29
JADE
The firewood cracks loudly in the library's open fireplace, spitting a rain of sparks against the protective metal mesh.
The heat of the fire radiates over to my chair, burning on my skin, but it isn't enough to chase away the trembling in my fingers.
I slide the notepad with the hastily scribbled information about Evelyn Rice and Elias Hayes under a stack of old newspaper clippings.
My gaze wanders to Cayden. He’s over by the massive globe that doubles as a minibar, pouring us two drinks. The muscles under his shirt move with every motion. My conscience speaks up, urging me to tell him what I found out about Hayes.
But what did I actually find out? That there’s a connection between the man who kicked him off the national team and the man he depends on for the stadium construction.
It could be a coincidence. If we draw hasty conclusions, it could backfire badly.
Cayden would confront Hayes on the spot and possibly ruin the deal without being able to prove anything.
I have to protect him from his own temperament, and that forces me into this unbearable silence.
Cayden brings over the two wine glasses and hands me one.
"Parker’s asleep," he says, taking a sip. He rests his forearms on his thighs, watching me over the rim of the glass. "I hope it was okay with you that we took the trip today."
I clutch my glass with both hands to hide the shaking. "He hasn't talked about anything else. You fulfilled a lifelong dream for him today, picking him up from school in the Porsche."
Cayden smiles, and it’s a smile from the heart. It reminds me of the man I fell in love with all those years ago.
"I was on the phone earlier," he changes the subject, setting his glass on the low wooden table between us. His gaze fixes on my face. "I called my mother."
I blink, surprised. "You spoke to your parents?"
"We made a date for coffee," he continues, leaning back into the soft cushions. "For next Saturday. Here in the house. Hailey’s joining us too."
"I’m really happy for you," I answer, my voice sounding softer than I intended. "Hailey will probably burst into tears the moment she walks through that door. She misses you."
"I miss her too," he admits surprisingly bluntly. He shifts forward on the sofa. The distance between our knees shrinks to a few centimeters. "I’m slowly realizing that I’ve neglected family time in recent years."
I can hardly believe what I’m hearing, but I say nothing. Instead, I keep staring into the fire.
"Parker told me something else while we were getting ice cream," he says quietly.
Oh no. What now?
"He spoke about your father," Cayden adds.
"Parker talks too much sometimes," I mutter, crossing my arms.
"He’s worried about you," Cayden says. "He told me about the care home. About the illness. He said you cry secretly in the kitchen at night because you don't know how to pay the bills."
A hot flush rises to my cheeks. I feel completely exposed. This villa, this job, my entire facade is starting to crumble.
"That topic doesn't belong in this interview," I deflect, reaching for my pen to hold onto some form of professionalism. "That’s my private business. I’ll handle it."
Cayden leans even further forward until I can feel the heat of his body. "Why didn't you say anything? We’ve known each other forever. You’re sitting here in my house nearly breaking under this load, while I’m pumping millions into stadiums."
"Because it’s none of your business!" I snap at him, my voice nearly cracking. The pen slips through my fingers and hits the rug. "I’m not here to fish for your pity. I’m doing my job.
I’m writing this article for Collins, I’m collecting my bonus, and then I’ll pay for my father’s home. I don't need anyone to rescue me."
He shakes his head. "It’s not about pity. It’s about support. Let me help you."
There he is again, the Cayden who thinks money can fix everything.
He’s simply offering me his money as if he were picking up a coffee tab.
My pride rears up in a giant wave. If I were to accept this check, the monstrous life-lie about our son would finally crush me.
I’ve withheld Parker from him for eleven years, and now he’s supposed to finance my life? The thought chokes me.
I leap out of the chair, my knees nearly hitting the table.
"Keep your goddamn money!" I shout, taking a large step back. Anger boils in my veins, displacing the guilt. "Do you seriously think you can solve every problem in this world with your bank account? You think you can throw a few bills on the table and buy your redemption?"
Cayden stands up, blocking the way to the door. "I’m not trying to buy anything. I want to take a huge weight off your shoulders. Why are you resisting my help so violently? Why do you have to carry everything alone?"
"Because I’m independent!" I yell, pointing a finger at his chest. "I’ve fought through the last eleven years alone. I’ve earned every cent myself. I won't let you pay me just so you feel better. You think money repairs broken things. It doesn't. It only makes people dependent on you."
His blue eyes narrow to slits. The peaceful mood is scorched. He takes an aggressive step toward me until my shoulders nearly touch the wood of the bookshelves.
"You are so incredibly stubborn," he growls, his breath brushing my face.
"You accuse me of hiding behind my money. But you’re doing the exact same thing with your false pride.
You don't let anyone near you. You build walls around yourself and Parker so high that they can't even be scaled with a ladder. "
"Then don't climb my walls!" I counter, pressing my hands flat against his chest to keep him at a distance. The hard muscle under his shirt tenses instantly.
He doesn't yield an inch. His hands shoot out and grip my wrists. His hold is uncompromising. He pulls my hands away from his chest and presses them against the shelves on either side of my head instead.
"I’m not climbing your walls. I’m tearing them down," he whispers. "Stop fighting me. Stop seeing me as the enemy."
The anger in my veins flips into a completely different emotion in a single heartbeat. My pulse races through my body at a frantic speed. I stare at his mouth, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt.
"Let me go," I whisper, but my words sound like a surrender.
Cayden lets go of my wrists, but he doesn't step back. His hands wander to my hips instead. He pulls me toward him with a fluid motion. The contact of our bodies sends an electric shock through my spine.
He lowers his head. His mouth finds mine with a hungry urgency that instantly pulverizes all rational thoughts in my brain.
I open my lips and offer no more resistance. My fingers bury deep in his hair. The taste of wine and desire explodes on my tongue. The fight, the care home, the evidence in my notepad—the entire world outside this library ceases to exist.
Cayden pushes me further against the shelf, and a hardcover book hits the floor with a loud bang, but we ignore the noise completely.
He wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me effortlessly until I’m sitting on the edge of the massive desk.
The cool mahogany presses through the fabric of my pants.
His lips wander from my mouth to my neck, leaving a damp trail on my skin. My back arches involuntarily. A soft gasp escapes my throat. He pulls the hem of my sweater up, his warm palms sliding over my bare stomach, leaving small fires everywhere.
"You’re driving me insane," he mutters against my collarbone. His fingers wander higher, brushing the edge of my bra.
I cling to his broad shoulders. I want to tell him everything.
I want to tell him about Evelyn Rice. I want to confess Parker.
The truth pushes roaringly against my lips, but the physical overwhelm forces me to silence.
I pull him even closer. I deliberately lose myself in this intoxicating heat to delay the inevitability of reality for just a few more hours.
His hands move to the back of my neck, pulling my head back to kiss me again. A bottomless passion sweeps away the last remains of my resistance. Tomorrow I’ll have to pick up the pieces. But tonight, I’m clinging to the man I haven't been able to banish from my mind for over a decade.