Page 39 of Bitter Confessions

How the hell was she going to write the next book in the series while she was locked in this marriage of convenience with her ex? She could scrap what she’d written in London and take out the reconciliation storyline, but then what? In the previous book, the focus had been on Juliet repairing her relationship with her father, interspersed with colorful sexcapades to offset the serious emotional undertones. She’d planned for book five to be the finale, but she couldn’t picture a fitting end for Juliet, who hadn’t made any serious connections throughout the years, just as she hadn’t in real life.

The only recurring character was Rex, who drifted in at inopportune moments for comic relief or with an entertaining anecdote when he checked in on his ex-wife. After Jasmine and Roth reunited in Colorado, Rex had come on stronger than he had in years, forcing a confrontation that had caused Juliet to leave him stranded on the side of the highway. When Jasmine was in London, she’d continued the scene. Rex had showed up at Juliet’s house to finish what he’d started, bringing their past—which had always been an off-limits topic—into the spotlight. He’d then proceeded to cross every boundary Juliet had laid down after she found him cheating on her and turned their platonic relationship back into a physical one.

Were Juliet and Rex meant to be together, or did Juliet deserve a fresh start with a man who hadn’t betrayed her trust, and whom she didn’t have such a tumultuous history with? Unlike her, Juliet had a choice and didn’t have to follow her path.

During her attempts to write after her dad died, she had considered bringing back a past fling who’d made a fortune and wanted a second chance. But maybe it was better to introduce a brand-new character. But starting a relationship from scratch and ending with a wedding was cliché. Considering Juliet’s sexual liberty and the men she’d been with, what would make this new love interest different from the rest? Who could entice Juliet to give up her hard-won independence? A blond Adonis with a heart of gold? A tall, dark, handsome stranger with a heroic past who just needed some tender loving care to come out of his shell and be the man of her dreams? Jasmine grimaced. She could already hear her readers’ vociferous, heated protests. They were dead set on Juliet and Rex being endgame. Not to mention, Sarai would flip. Roth’s personal assistant wouldn’t understand why the series had deviated so much from Jasmine’s real life. Sarai would only understand the reason for the fictional ending if she published the book after the divorce.

Her chest tightened. Was she really dreading their end when mere days ago, she’d begged him to let her go? Passion like this—overwhelming, white-hot—couldn’t go on forever. She kept telling herself these obsessive feelings would pass. They couldn’t sustain themselves. Which was a good thing, since it was all-consuming and didn’t allow for much else.

She set her cup aside and redirected her mind to the only thing she should be thinking about. If she couldn’t work on the series that had made her career, what the hell was she going to write? Everyone was expecting the finale to drop any day now, and she had nothing.

She stalked through the penthouse as her mind turned over the problem. She didn’t have to write to support herself anymore, but writing had always been much more than a way to make money. Writing had given her a voice and a mental sanctuary to escape to when reality was too harsh. Juliet had been her anchor for six years. Immersing herself in a fictional world where her counterpart conquered goals she was afraid to approach in real life had given her the courage to follow suit. She needed somewhere to retreat to where she wasn’t weighted down by the Hennessy (or Roth) name and could be herself.

Stories were her way of connecting with people beyond the walls of her glass cage. In fiction, she could show the selfish, reckless, needy parts of her that her family couldn’t accept. Not being able to give her audience the conclusion they (and she) desperately wanted created a divide when she needed them most. She had so much to get off her chest, so much she wanted to pass on to Juliet, but she couldn’t put it on the page. She didn’t dare. If she started to analyze her situation, if she looked too closely, she’d unravel. Her only option was to switch to a project that had nothing to do with her life.

Her readers were going to lose their ever-loving minds, but what choice did she have? Deep down, she’d known she’d have to put Rex and Juliet aside but had stubbornly believed she could be impartial about her father’s death and the recent developments between her and Roth. The truth was, she was so raw from the trauma of losing the only parent she’d ever known, receiving her unexpected inheritance, Roth’s forceful reentry into her life, and all the revelations about her family, that she couldn’t begin to process it. She couldn’t sift through the ramifications and repercussions of past decisions and current circumstances when they were still evolving. Her only recourse was to lose herself in another project until she was strong enough to deal with Juliet and Rex. She had a nasty feeling she couldn’t decide Juliet’s fate until she knew her own.

She dropped her robe outside the shower and was distracted by Roth’s scent hanging in the air. She breathed him in and was annoyed by the flare of warmth and comfort his scent gave her. She didn’t want to want him. Even now, when things were good between them, she wanted to be able to block him out and enjoy their physical connection without tapping into the emotional.

She stepped under the spray and imagined the water washing her worries away. Trying to anticipate everything would only cause needless distress she couldn’t take. She was so goddamn tired of trying not to make another mistake. Of trying to do what was “right.” She would let Roth handle everything. No matter what came, she would survive. She had once before.

She sang along to Christmas music as she did her makeup. She was flying high on festive cheer. She’d had a productive day wrapping the gifts she’d picked up on her travels while catching up with Johnny and Penelope.

She had unpacked her luggage and ignored Roth’s text telling her the housekeeper could do that for her. The fact he was shamelessly watching her and not even trying to hide it should have pissed her off, but two heartwarming messages from readers had restored her good mood and had her skipping around the penthouse instead of calling him to give him a piece of her mind. Didn’t he say he had back-to-back meetings? He shouldn’t have time to stalk her.

She checked the time on her phone and cursed. She should give Johan and Mo a heads-up that she was running late. She leaned toward the vanity and carefully applied eyeliner and nearly stabbed herself when saw a large shadow out of the corner of her eye.

“Holy shit! What the hell are you doing here?” she exploded.

Roth raised his brows as he undid his tie. “I live here.”

“I know, but...” She turned her face away as he caught her around the waist and tried to kiss her. “Make some noise next time! You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I’ll remember that.” He grabbed her face and got the kiss he wanted before he started to undo his shirt.

“I thought you wouldn’t be back for hours.”

“I have another engagement,” he said as he dropped his pants.

“Oh.” Her voice was a little strained. It took all her self-control not to let her gaze drop. “Did anyone mention that today’s Thanksgiving?”

“No.”

She sniffed. Everyone was too afraid to tell him working on a holiday was a crime.

He turned. This time, she couldn’t stop herself from admiring his ass as he strode to the shower. When Roth eyed her through the glass, she straightened and turned back to the mirror to finish her makeup.

“Did Sarai send you the portfolios of designers who can work on your office?” he called.

She gritted her teeth. “Yes.”

“Did you choose a designer?”

“I don’t need an office!”

“You spent a good hour looking for that notebook before you realized you left it in the guest bedroom.”

She put her hand on her hip and glared at the fogged glass obscuring him from view. “How the hell do you know that? Weren’t you in meetings all day?”

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