Page 24 of Sleep

“Option one,” he continued, “My concierge will get your car and move it into the private garage under my building. Then you come up and have a cup of coffee and tell me all about this ex-husband-getting-married business. No pressure. Just one human being offering another a cup of excellent Italian coffee, a listening ear if you need one and a seat on my sofa. I’ll even throw in a blanket. It’s a chilly night.”

I snorted. Not because I was rude, but because he was totally riling me up.

“Does option two involve hiring a hitman? Someone to take out my boss and ex-husband as part of the bargain—a two-for-the-price-of-one deal?”

“A hitman?” He looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

“Long story. I hate them both. Right now, I would choose option two.”

“Option two certainly does not include hitmen or arson. It does, however, include me ringing my private driver to take you safely back to Newbury if that’s what you need.”

“If I go home now, I’ll spend the night drinking my dad’s cooking whisky neat at my parents’ kitchen table and crying my eyes out while my father scolds me and repeatedly tells me that he told me so.”

“Charming.”

I laughed. In amongst all this madness, Jonny Templar made me laugh. How ridiculous.

“I think the sensible option here…” I gathered myself up, tried to stand up straight, held my deranged head high. “Is that I get in my car and drive home. Like a normal, sensible person.”

He took my hand, held it tight.

“Then I would worry about your well-being and sanity all night.”

“Manipulative bastard.” I had to say it. Because he was. And I was…me. So easily swayed. I hated myself.

“I make good coffee,” he added, looking at me with those bright, blue eyes.

Told you. Easily swayed. My heart was so broken that it couldn’t even protect me from my own stupidity.

“I need a stiff drink.” I threw that brilliant line back at him, cackling at myself.

“You’re upset. You need to sit down and—”

“And what?” I demanded. I wasn’t a nice person. I wasn’t a good person. I was awful and evil, wanting to kill everything in sight.

I was also on the verge of a full-on nervous breakdown. Ready for the nuthouse, me. Psych ward. A straitjacket. The end of all things good. Mabel Donovan had not only lost it, but they had also realised that they were…

I wanted to scream. I wanted to hurl myself into the river. Even my internal monologue couldn’t find the right words.

“This has been one hell of an evening. I think I need a hug,” he said gently. “You’re—”

“I’m not a hugger. I’m cold and insane. That’s what Mark called me. Lots of choice words.”

“Upset,” he finished calmly. “You’re upset. And I’m right here.”

Simple words. Too simple when I could barely breathe. I felt a tear run down my cheek.

“Nothing untoward.” There was his hand again, his fingers lightly resting on my neck, his thumb wiping the wetness away. “The concierge will sign you in. You can ring your dad and let him know where you are. I have a spare room. You can stay, or my driver will take you wherever you want to go. That offer still stands.”

He tipped my chin up. I jerked my head to the side, stared at the ground.

“All the agreed boundaries are still in place. I’m not…” He stopped, as if to gather his thoughts. Find those elusive words that seemed to have totally escaped me. “I’m not another battle you have to fight. I’m just here, should you need another human to lean on.”

“Shut up,” I snivelled. The world was too much. My world had turned to glass, my entire being in danger of shattering, one small crack at a time, and I couldn’t stop it.

I was tired of fighting. Tired of everything around me falling apart. His words still hung in the air, a glimmer of something I could hold on to. Because he was right. I was sick and tired of battling my way through everything, holding everything together when I was already crumbling. I wanted to believe what he said, but I was too broken to trust that he meant it.

I didn’t trust anyone. I didn’t even trust myself. Boundaries or not, I had no idea who this man in front of me was. The man who just held my head in his hand and waited for me to make my decision.

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