Page 110 of Burn With Me

I never saw anyone else enter the office, so he’s had to have been here since before I got to work.

It sounds like there is some sort of business deal going on in Carmela’s office, but all I can think about is the fact that my stranger and Jackson are in the same room. Do they work together?

Does he know who I am? Did he come here to tell Jackson about us? About me working at the club and everything we’ve been doing?

Or is he completely clueless?

My lungs begin to burn, reminding me to take a breath. As I suck in air, acid worms its way around my stomach, eating away at the lining and making me feel nauseous. Bile rises in my throat, and it’s a struggle to keep it down.

After last night—when I finally decided to pick myself up off the floor—I’d decided to quit working at Désirer and take Jackson up on his offer to fund my clinic. There’s no way I can work there and do anything like that with anyone other than whoever the man behind the mask was.

Also, I love Jackson.

I can’t lose him. I don’t think I’ll survive losing themboth.

Most of the night before was spent tossing and turning in Jackson’s bed, wanting to reach across the giant space between us and just touch him. Feel him under my fingertips—real andthere, right in front of me.

The stranger asked if I could live life not knowing who he was, if losing Jackson was worth that.

It isn’t.

Jackson and I have grown so much together. All I want is for that to continue.

Am I devastated that my stranger ended things? Absolutely.

But I spent all night thinking about if I reallyhadto choose, who would it be?

When the answer finally came, I accepted it without hesitation.

With the stranger being just on the other side of that door, though, Ihaveto know who he is. Ineedto look him in the eye to be able to let him go.

All I want is just one glimpse, and then I’ll move forward.

Jackson

“Do I even want to know if what you guys just did was legal?” Carmela asks as soon as the call ends.

“Perfectly legal. They lied. I had a hunch, and Jackson got the truth,” my uncle replies, moving to the minibar to pour himself a drink.

“But you’re pretending to be someone else–” she starts in again, but Mick cuts her off.

“First of all, I shouldn’t be hearing any of this. Second, it’s not like we’re exactly running a legit operation at Désirer.”

She throws her hands up. “Fair.”

The way they interact with each other is informal. Too friendly to just be business partners and not tinged with the type of familiarity you have with people who are only friends.

I’ll bet they’ve fucked.

“Okay, what are we all here for?” Mick asks, directing his attention away from Carmela to my uncle, who is still standing in the corner at the minibar.

He’s holding his drink in his hand, the other stuffed in his pocket, as he leans against the bar with one ankle crossed infront of the other. He looks relaxed, but I know him better than that. Whatever he called us here for isn’t good news.

“I’m pulling out of Désirer completely. I want Jackson to take overnowinstead of later.” He looks into his bourbon as he speaks casually like it’s not a big deal.

“No. He’s not ready,” Carmela exclaims flatly.

Gee, thanks.

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