Page 123 of Sweet Wicked Vows

He lied to me. He used me. He manipulated me. He tried to destroy my family name.

He loves me.

I loved Jaxon, but even love had its limits, right?

Chapter ThirtyNine

“Flower delivery for Mrs. Evelyn Dade?”

“It’s Evelyn Rey… Never mind.” I signed for the delivery. “Can you set them over on that box? Thank you.”

A bouquet of white and red roses wider than the front door of my new office sat perched on the box containing my brand new desk beside a sleeping Bell.

There was only one week left beforeIvy & Quill Pressofficially opened its doors. Between sifting through my inbox, trying not to become overwhelmed with the daily influx of manuscripts and job applications, and getting the office in Soho ready for business, I was happy for the welcomed distractions.

Though, I was starting to stress out. There seemed to be a never-ending list of things to do. Chase up the missing furniture order, meet with potential employees, pick the first manuscript to publish—and as optimistic as I tried to remain, it was downright impossible to do it all in a week.

In hindsight, starting to paint all the office walls by myself wasn’t the smartest decision.

Rubbing paint from my hands onto my overalls, I waited until I could no longer distract myself with painting before plucking the card perched between the blooming roses.

My fingers traced the handwritten lettering on the front of the card, the familiar writing bringing the ever-lasting ache wherecomfort used to reside.

I knew the flowers were from Jaxon without having looked at the card, and though I knew it was wrong, I didn’t fight the tiniest of butterflies waking from their slumber.

Before I got the chance to read the other side, spiced midnight and coffee cut through the fresh paint.

I was afraid to look up as the familiar tingle of awareness jolted through me. It had only been a couple days since we saw each other last. The memory of him begging for forgiveness on his knees forced its way back into thought. Yet, as I slowly looked up, starting at his feet and working my way to his marble-sculpted face, oxygen evaporated from my lungs.

Tiredness still lined under his eyes, but he looked better.

He looked determined. Hopeful. Optimistic.

The smile breaking across his face was enough to stop my world spinning.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“What are you doing here?” I crossed my arms.

He motioned to the coffee cups in one hand and the box fromSinarollin the other. “I was in the neighborhood and thought you might be hungry.”

My eyes narrowed. “Sinarollisn’t in this neighborhood.”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged with a boyish grin. “Doesn’t matter. All that matters is there is a fresh cinnamon bun, with extra cream-cheese frosting, in the box with your name on it.”

Bell jumped down from her sleeping spot and beelined for Jaxon. The little traitor rubbed herself against his shins, demanding his attention all the whilst purring louder than a motorbike engine.

She forgave far too easily.

He smiled down at her. “I missed you too, little demon.”

Damn him, he was good.

“Well, thank you for the coffee and buns.” I cleared my throat.“If you leave it over there, I have things I need to get back to doing.”

He walked cautiously closer, every step controlled, as he scanned the half-painted walls and unopened boxes. The place was a mess. I knew that. I just needed an extra twenty hours in the day to try and get it ready for opening.

Opening with wet paint still on the walls and half the chairs missing wasn’t that bad of an idea, was it?

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