Page 109 of Bitter Secrets

“Things aren’t good in London.”

She felt the blood leave her face. “Is he…?”

“Yes.”

When she would have retreated even more, he grabbed her arm and drew her to him. She was stiff as he gathered her in his arms.

“Every block I build, he tries to tear down. I don’t have time to sleep, much less call my wife.” When she opened her mouth, he tugged on her hair to silence her. “I know you want to be with me, but my life right now… It’s not a life. I want you to stay here.”

“But…” Her eyes stung with tears of desperation as her dreams of leaving this all behind began to crumble. “Seeing you once every three months… It’s killing me.”

“Jasmine.”

“No!” She grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him. “I can help! I just got my degree. I can help you regain your losses.”

He braced his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not working.”

“What?”

“You proved your point by getting your business degree. Now you’re going to focus on what you should have all along.” When she stared at him, bewildered, he gave her a small shake. “Writing.”

“Writing?”

“Yes,” he growled. “Writing. Your dream.”

“I want to help you.”

“You are helping me.”

She threw up her hands. “How? You paid my tuition for a degree I can’t even use here.”

She slipped away from him and paced to the fridge, where she grabbed a carton of juice.

“I tried to get a job,” she said with her back to him.

“Jasmine…”

“I was referred by a CEO I apprenticed for. I thought I could make some money and get hands-on experience before I left. My interview was great. They asked me to start the next day.” She chased away the bitter taste in her mouth with mango and pineapple juice. “When I came in, everything had changed. The woman who hired me told me something had come up in my profile, and they were going to have to pass. I was so confused. That happened three more times before I realized Dad was behind it.”

“He’s a bastard,” he said again.

She didn’t agree, but she didn’t argue with him either. “I can’t do anything here. He has too much influence.”

“All the more reason for you to write.”

She slashed her hand through the air. “Writing isn’t going to pay any bills!”

“It doesn’t need to.”

“How can I write when I know you’re working your ass off? That’s not fair—"

When he started toward her, she stupidly held out her glass as if that would ward him off. He snatched the glass from her hand, boosted her up on the counter, and planted his hands on either side of her.

“Fair?” He leaned in so their faces were inches from each other. “You did a good makeup job, princess, but you can’t hide that even before you saw me today, you were crying.”

When she would have looked away, he gripped her jaw and forced her to meet his seething eyes.

“You think I don’t know what you gave up for me? How different today could have been for you? Your whole family in attendance.” A muscle ticked near his bloodshot eye. “And the Baldwins too. That would have brought in reporters who would make sure to get some shots for the papers. Your father would throw a party in your honor, and you would be on that fuck’s arm, planning your engagement party.” His fingers flexed on her hips. “I robbed you of a good life.”

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