Page 73 of Bitter Secrets

Although Dad made it clear he didn’t want to hear from her, she composed an email. That, too, was ignored. Knowing Dad, he blocked her from his contact list, and it had been sent to spam. She’d known there would be consequences and accepted them, but she underestimated Dad’s wrath and her response to it. She assumed she would be able to handle Dad better at twenty-three than she had at eighteen. Wrong. No matter how old she was, he still managed to make her feel small and worthless. His words played over and over in her mind, wreaking havoc on her sleep, concentration, and performance in class.

She glanced into a shop window as she passed and focused on her reflection. Automatically, her eyes slid down to the glint of gold on her finger. She raised her hand and examined the modest sapphire, which sparkled in the sunlight. It was Ford’s grandmother’s ring. It was an antique and, if the rumors were true, had been rejected by Tucker’s wife, who insisted on a ten-carat diamond minimum. Jasmine didn’t mind the modest ring, but it was a reminder of what was so easily forgotten—that she was engaged. She hadn’t heard from Ford. Lyle mentioned that he was still in Europe, fixing more of Tucker’s mistakes.

She wanted to break through the wall of formality between them. Thus far, Ford had only contacted her when they had to attend a business function or have dinner with his family. She assumed they would spend their engagement getting to know one another. So far, that hadn’t happened. Many of her friends were already married. Happily, it seemed. She wanted that, but she didn’t know how to go about getting it. She wished she could ask her sisters for advice, but cringed just imagining how they would react to her crossing the line into personal territory.

One of them had to make the first move. She calculated the time before she dialed Ford’s cell and willed him to pick up as she crossed the street. When the call switched to voicemail, she hung up without leaving a message, and marched down the sidewalk.

He was probably busy unless… Would Dad call Ford and order him to give her the cold shoulder to teach her a lesson? No. Ford was an adult with his own mind. She frowned. Colette and Ariana were a decade older than her and married, but they were still under Dad’s thumb. She shoved her phone into her bag as Lyle’s warning replayed in her mind. She thought marrying Ford was a ticket to freedom, but was it possible that Dad would still have a say about her life even after she married? She quickened her pace, hoping to outdistance the depressing thoughts that clouded her mind. Ford wouldn’t let that happen. Out of all the eligible women he could marry, he chose her. That had to mean something. He wouldn’t allow their fathers to intrude on their relationship, would he?

She rounded the corner and collided with what felt like a brick wall. She stumbled back and would have fallen on her ass if two hands didn’t grab hold of her. She squinted against the sun as a large figure loomed over her.

“Jasmine?”

She blinked rapidly as her eyes tried to confirm what her ears had already identified. There was no mistaking that distinctive rumble. She stared up at James Roth, who was dressed much the same as he had been at her father’s party. She thought of him frequently over the past few weeks. So much so, that she was afraid she was hallucinating.

“James Roth?”

"Just Roth,” he said in that curt way of his as he steadied her on her feet. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and stared at him, still not convinced he was really here. “What are you doing in Philadelphia?”

“I came here for a meeting, but it got delayed. I was searching for a place to get coffee. What are you doing here?”

“I go to Wharton’s.” She gestured vaguely behind her. “I just finished class.”

“Do you know where to get coffee?”

“Um, sure. Just go down this sidewalk and take a left and—"

“Why don’t you show me?”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“Have coffee with me. I have some time to kill.”

When she didn’t respond, he raised a brow.

“You said you just finished class.”

“Well, yes, but…” Her mind was alarmingly blank.

He tilted his head to the side as he regarded her for a moment. “If you would rather not spend time with me, you don’t have to. Let me buy you something, and you can be on your way.”

Her eyes rounded. “No! It’s not that. I just…” She shook her head. “Never mind. Come, follow me.”

She continued down the sidewalk, nerves jangling, as James Roth fell into step beside her. Although that ugly scene with her father dominated her memories of that night, she couldn’t help wondering how Roth fared after she left. She resigned herself to never knowing if he took advantage of the small window of opportunity he had, and now here he was.

She snuck a furtive glance at him. Although he was dressed casually, he seemed as out of place on this treelined street as he had been in her father’s ballroom. There was something almost otherworldly about him. His unusually large size paired with those rough-hewn features made him look more like an ancient warrior rather than a twenty-first century businessman. The fantasy story she banished to the far recesses of her mind sputtered to life. James Roth was the mysterious stranger in the flesh, and here she was, walking beside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She wasn’t sure what strange twist of fate caused their paths to cross again, but she was grateful for the distraction. Her shitty month was forgotten as her imagination went into overdrive.

When they reached the café, she opened the door, ready to be assaulted with the smell of fresh coffee. Her ritual was interrupted by Roth, who grabbed the door above her head and held it, so she could go on ahead of him. Startled by the move, she hesitated a second too long and then had to stay put as a parade of people exited. They took their sweet-ass time leaving, ribbing one another and laughing as they went. Trapped between him and the door, she couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t wearing cologne. That was so unusual that she lingered a second longer than was necessary to make sure.

“Jasmine?”

“You’re gonnalovethis place.” She dodged through patrons waiting for drinks, took her place in line, and pointed at the menu. “They have the best baked goods. What kind of coffee do you want?”

“Black.”

That wasn’t a surprise. She hadn’t met a man who liked the fancy blended drinks women sucked down like water. The place was so packed, he had to stand behind her. She surveyed the menu and belatedly tried to step out of someone’s way and stepped on Roth’s foot. She apologized and tried to side step, but stilled when two large hands settled on her shoulders and squeezed. A wave of heat engulfed her, making her scalp tingle, before the hands dropped away and Roth stepped up beside her.

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