Chapter 40
Shannon
Her eyelids flew open, the sudden shift from sleep to alertness throwing her off balance.
“Where are we?” Her voice crackled through the headset as she bolted upright, only to be jolted back by the safety harness holding her in place. “This isn’t Meadow Dawn.”
The hum of the helicopter’s descent vibrated through her body as she stared out the cabin window. Outside, the sky had darkened, an inky navy expanse stretching above them.
A canopy of tall trees blurred, and as they lowered, the sprawling outline of a property took shape, its vastness almost intimidating.
Her heart raced as the ground beneath them came closer.
She strained to make sense of everything, her mind spinning, trying to piece it together .
“Jamie. I don’t recognise this place,” she said, unease in her voice.
“It’s okay, we’re home. At my place in Fermanagh.” Jamie set his hand on her thigh, reassuring her while also keeping things under control.
Thwapping blades spun overhead, becoming louder as the chopper settled on the ground.
Her mind was still reeling, but before she could ask more, Jamie jumped out of the helicopter and disappeared from view.
Moments later, he reappeared, pulling open the door beside her and leaning in to unclip her harness.
“It’s just me and you. C’mon, love.” He held out his hand, offering her the only thing that mattered in that moment—his strength.
Shannon shuffled forward, her body still disoriented from sleep and the whirlwind of unfamiliar emotions swirling inside her.
This time, she didn’t hesitate, sliding her hand into his, the firm grasp of his fingers sending a jolt of warmth through her.
Her heart fluttered at the contact. The confusion, the tension, all of it seemed to dissolve with the simple connection of their skin.
Rather than wait for her to find her footing, he pulled her into his arms, sweeping her into the air. She clung to him for balance, his muscular arms securing her tight to his chest.
For a moment, she allowed herself to settle against the steady rhythm of his heart and soak up the idea that she wasn’t alone anymore.
“You’re okay now,” Jamie murmured, his voice a low whisper, full of reassurance.
He carried her toward a massive building… the place he called home.
The size of it stunned her into complete silence. Lights cast a soft glow across the imposing structure, highlighting the vastness of the estate, each beam, and column seeming to stretch into the night sky.
The meticulous design extended outwards, standing alone amidst acres of untamed woodland.
With every step he took, the enormity of his home sank deeper. The walls gleamed white, almost too pristine, with windows that reflected the floodlights illuminating the grounds, creating a stark contrast against the night.
It looked like a show home from a glossy magazine, one of those places that seemed almost too perfect to be real, something a millionaire would own, but nothing she’d ever imagined Jamie living in.
The closer she got, the more realised this wasn’t just wealth, it was opulence in its purest form. Everything about it screamed of money that didn’t just buy things, but bought dreams.
Without a word, he set her down on the doorstep, his hands steadying her as she found her balance.
He didn’t let go, keeping one hand on her back while he punched in a code to unlock the door and guided inside her with the certainty that had made her trust him from the start.
Peering up at him, emotions knotted in her chest. She couldn’t seem to process the grandeur and scale of it all.
Jamie never mentioned the enormous house he owned, the vast grounds it’s nestled in, the magnificent floating staircase, or that he had so much money.
Did she really know him at all? Because this place wasn’t just a rich man’s home.
No, it commanded the eye as a residence where legends were born. A statement. A huge revelation telling her Jamie might not be the man she thought she knew.
“Fuck, love, your face is so pale,” he said, keeping her tight to his side.
But when she wobbled, he used one arm to scoop her into his arms again. With the backs of her knees draping his forearm and her arms around his neck, he cradled her close to his chest.
“You haven’t eaten, have you?”
“No…” The word came out quieter than she intended.
“Once you’ve settled, we’re gonna have a chat. Okay?”
She nodded, closing her eyes as she breathed him into her lungs.
With the click of a button, well-placed lighting flickered to life while ambient melodies drifted through hidden speakers.
Glossy floor tiles stretched like a blanket of fresh snow, leading them from the reception and into the kitchen. The space was vast and open with high ceilings and dark wooden beams.
Expansive windows on the far wall framed the night sky like a living painting, offering a view of the quiet, moonlit landscape outside.
The kitchen was a study in modern elegance, its coal-coloured surfaces gleaming under the soft light.
Polished countertops and sleek black appliances made it look almost too pristine to use. Yet the soft scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, offering a homeliness despite the modern design.
Jamie lowered her onto a comfy grey couch, his arms staying around her and his hands lingering on her waist to make sure she was settled.
Plush cushions welcomed her stiff body, and the warmth from the fire crackling opposite her seeped into her bones.
He knelt in front of her, his hands moving to her thighs, his gaze never leaving her. The firelight flickered shadows across his features, making him look even more intense than usual.
After a beat, he reached up, his fingers brushing under her chin, tilting her gaze upward to meet his.
“Look at me,” he said, pulling her gaze to his.
His eyes searched hers, watching her every reaction, as if trying to read her without words.
“You need to drink a glass of water,” Jamie ordered, a note of concern threading through his voice. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s not good for you to be running on empty. ”
Shannon’s lips curled into a teasing smile.
“I know… I missed the cocktail sausages at the races,” she replied, her voice light, trying to inject some humour into the moment, even if her hands were trembling.
He rose to his full height, the movement fluid and powerful. Then he laughed, a low, rich, and deep raspiness that pulled at her like a magnet.
The rumble of it sent a thrill through her, making her heart hammer in her chest.
“My housekeeper left a chicken curry out of the freezer. I’ll heat it up for you instead.” He moved to the standalone granite island.
“I’d love that.” She turned to see him better, aware of how lonely she’d become without his body heat next to her. “Want me to help?”
He shook his head, taking a glass container from the double fronted fridge and unclipping it. “No, love. I can handle heating a curry.”
“Do you really rattle around here on your own?” she asked, trying to ignore the unsettling knot in her stomach.
He emptied the curry into a pan and set it over a gas ring on the hob.
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “Marcus lives a mile down the road in the old Coach House. We wanted to have at least one house that kept us close, so I built this place last year.”
She couldn’t help herself.
“At least one house? You have more than one?” Her tone was a mix of disbelief and mild horror.
Holy hell, how did she underestimate everything ?
“You knew I had money when we met.” He held her gaze from across the room. “I own a villa in Italy and a penthouse in New York…and a few other places.”
She gulped, her brow furrowing as her eyes darted from corner to corner, soaking in the high-spec interior. This was a whole new side of him. An unbelievable shitstorm of financial inequality.
“Yeah, I knew you owned The Fitz…but we flew here in a private helicopter. And you have multiple homes?—”
They had always been together in her territory, and now she was standing in his. The gaping difference between their worlds was like stepping into a different dimension.
“How much did it cost to build a house like this?” she asked, watching him grab a wooden spoon and stir.
“Does it matter?” he asked, frowning.
For a man who was usually so confident, his question seemed almost vulnerable, as if he was bracing himself for her response.
“It depends…” she said, her voice a little quieter now.
“On?”
“Will you turn into an asshole at midnight?” she asked, her tone light but with an edge of seriousness. “Or tell me I’m girlfriend number three and introduce me to one and two?”
“Number three?” He raised an eyebrow, his cheek dimpling with that familiar cocky smile. “What about four and five?”
She rolled her eyes, smirking at him. “There we go…there’s the asshole. ”
Jamie pushed away from the hob, moving closer.
“You should know you’re my number one, okay?” His voice was lower now, edged with sincerity. “As in, the only one.”
The flutter in her chest detonated, her breath hitching as the weight of his words settled in. Her eyes widened, but she quickly masked her shock with a teasing smile.
“Phew,” she said, her grin playful but still carrying a hint of vulnerability. “For a second, I thought you meant I was the one .”
Jamie didn’t correct her or even laugh it off. He just stared at her, his gaze intense, watching the way her smile faltered under the weight of his full attention.
“I guess I underestimated how rich you are,” she added. “I mean, this house is off the scale huge for just one guy.”
A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips, and she could’ve sworn he actually sighed with relief.
“Yeah, it’s a bit too big for just me,” he agreed. “I need a super-hot, black-haired beauty to stay with me. Specifically, one with amazing blue eyes, a great ass, and a really cute laugh.”
Her cheeks flushed, and her stomach flipped in all the right ways. She wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of girls who fit that criteria.”
“Oh, absolutely,” he replied, his voice playful, but that deep undertone of his sent a shiver down her spine. “But none of them made me want to be around them all the time. ”
Her breath caught in her throat as she held his gaze, that magnetic pull between them impossible to ignore.
“Still an asshole,” she muttered, though her smile betrayed her.
“Is that so?”
He crouched before her, unbuckled her sandals and slipped them off with natural dominance. The temperature soared, and her belly flipped at the intimacy of the simple gesture.
“You’re going to take a hot shower before dinner,” he said, his voice deep and firm, yet laced with care. “I need to make a call first.”
He stood and jogged to the kitchen counter where he’d left his phone, swiped the screen, and tapped before pressing it to his ear. As he waited for the call to connect, he turned to her with a shrug.
“No answer. I was calling Harry to let him know I’ll have you back first thing tomorrow.”
Her chest tightened with an unexpected rush of warmth. Jamie understood —he had listened, paid attention, and respected what she needed.
“He gave me the day off tomorrow, but I still want to ride Trixie. I’ll shoot him a message and let him know I’ll take her out in the afternoon.”
As she spoke, a sudden wave of panic washed over her.
“Jamie… My purse. It fell at the racecourse,” she said, her palms flying up to her cheeks in a moment of panic. “My phone?—”