Page 103 of Bitter Confessions

Guilt twisted her stomach into knots. “Lyle told me he wanted in on the deal you did today and that you’re moving in on Dad’s business partners.”

“He shouldn’t have shared that with you.”

“Why not? I should know?—”

“No. Who I do business with, including your family, is none of your concern. The same goes for the plans I have for your father’s partners. You aren’t a part of it.” Abruptly, he turned from her and started toward the hallway leading to his office. “I have work to do. You should go to bed. It’s late.”

“You should too. You’ve been traveling and working all day.”

“I don’t have time.”

She got to her feet. “Thank you for allowing me to speak to Ariana.”

He didn’t acknowledge her gratitude.

“Roth?” He was about to disappear into the hallway that led to his office when she snapped, “Jamie!”

He stopped but didn’t turn to face her.

“We’re back to this?” Her voice shook.

“I told you there would be times when business takes precedence. This is one of those times.”

“But...”

It wasn’t just business. He was pulling away from her and erecting that invisible wall again. Old insecurities savaged her insides. Had she become too clingy; tried too hard to integrate herself into his schedule? Despite the unholy hour, she’d joined him a few more times at the gym, hoping for the same results when they returned to the penthouse. No such luck. In fact, the last time she went, he left without telling her. By the time she got back to the penthouse, he was gone. She hadn’t tried to mirror his schedule after that and filled her days to keep herself occupied.

And now this. She wanted to throw her arms around him and beg him not to do this. She felt like she was losing everything again. Him, her family... Her eyes filled with tears. She willed him to come to her and kiss her; to reassure her they still had each other, and she meant something to him.

“Is...?” She swallowed hard. “Is there anything I can do?”

There was no mistaking the tears in her voice.

He kept his back to her as he answered with a definitive, “No.”

His rejection hit harder than it should have. She’d had hours to prepare, and still, the pain took her breath away. As the first tear fell, she started toward the opposite hallway leading to the master suite. She’d embarrassed herself enough.

“Endanger yourself and my men by mindlessly running into traffic, I’ll keep you locked in this penthouse or shackled to someone when you’re in public. I don’t give a fuck who sees.”

She halted with her back to him. “I mindlessly ran into traffic because I was desperate to see my husband. I had this foolish notion he would give me a hug and reassure me everything was going to be okay. I was wrong. I won’t be so foolish in future.”

She walked down the hallway with as much dignity as she could muster, willing him to come after her, to engage, so they wouldn’t repeat old habits. But when she reached the bedroom and turned, he’d disappeared.

She didn’t sleep. She lay in bed, her heart heavy, mind in turmoil. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she made her way to his office, determined to discuss what was going awry between them, but he wasn’t there. She called his cell phone. Once again, it went straight to voice mail. She didn’t leave a message. There was no need. She finally got it.

CHAPTER 19

Jasmine propped herself against the doorjamb as the morning sun filtered into her new office. She chose the smallest room in the penthouse, what she later learned was the maids’ quarters. Sarai was appalled and went over her head to get Roth’s approval to claim the second-largest room in the penthouse for her office.

During her interview with the interior designer, Cazandra, she’d requested a simple, minimalistic design. All she needed was a space to file paperwork and hopefully write a book once they’d gotten through the holidays. She should have known, with Sarai involved, her instructions would be treated more like suggestions. If she’d had an inkling of what they intended, she would have stopped them.

She’d assumed her office would blend in with the rest of the home. Neutral colors, elegant furniture, and maybe a unique wallpaper to give the space some personality. But she’d chosen Cazandra for her unique style. She should have known the designer wouldn’t play it safe.

The room bore no resemblance to the white slate it had been before Cazandra got her hands on it. The walls were the deepest black, without a lick of gloss to soften them. Even the ceiling had been painted to create an insulated, cave-like feel that was a stark contrast to the bright and airy penthouse in the clouds. The door was matte-black, with gold knobs and an elaborate door knocker that would lead most to assume it was the entry into a different wing, not a single room.

Her office had always been the most important room in her home, yet she’d never made the effort to make the space her own. Not her apartment in Chelsea or the library she’d shared with her dad. Even though she now owned the estate at Tuxedo Park, she had yet to move even a lamp. She’d never truly settled anywhere. She’d always known she was passing through. She wanted to treat this penthouse with Roth the same way, but Sarai and Cazandra wouldn’t allow it. Throughout her life, many things had been custom-made for her—clothes, makeup, jewelry—but none of that had been for her; it was to maintain the Hennessy image. But this... This haven called to the depths of her soul.

She advanced into the room and paused beside the desk: a work of art built into a sleek curve that faced a bookshelf, where her books as Minnie Hess and Thalia Crane were proudly displayed. A new computer she hadn’t requested waited patiently for her to fill the empty screen with words. She hadn’t written in what felt like months, and she desperately needed the escape. Once she crossed the threshold, she was no longer Jasmine Roth with all her emotional baggage and the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. This was a sanctuary for creativity. Reality wasn’t allowed to intrude here.

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