Page 55 of Checks & Bonds

He shrugged, leaning against the back of the couch. "Maybe just some company."

"Company?" The word felt foreign in my mouth. "Don’t you have enough of that?”

"Henry and I," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "have our differences. And Rebecca—well, she's another story entirely."

I watched him closely, trying to decipher his motives. His nonchalance grated on my nerves but also piqued my curiosity.

"Why are you really here?" I asked.

Jensen met my gaze head-on. "Maybe I'm here because I see someone who's caught in the middle of a mess they didn't create."

I blinked at him, unsure how to respond. The truth in his words stung more than I cared to admit.

"So what now?" My voice was softer now, less guarded.

"Now," Jensen said, pushing off from the couch and closing the distance between us again, "you decide if you want me to stay or if you'd rather face all this alone."

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question settle over me like an unwanted cloak.

The truth was, I hated that Henry was with Amber. The thought of them together twisted my insides in a way I couldn't quite describe.

What if he's lying?a voice in my head whispered.

And why would he lie?another voice countered.

It was petty, but if Henry was with Amber, I wanted... I didn't even know what I wanted.

Jensen broke the silence, heading towards the west wing of the manor. "You know," he said, glancing over his shoulder with a curious look, "when Henry and I used to hang out, we were never allowed in the west wing. I can't help but wonder why."

"Jensen," I called after him, my voice tinged with desperation. "You need to go. You can't?—"

"Why are you following his rules?" He stopped and turned to face me, a challenge in his eyes. "I always thought you were spunky. And yet, the second Henry claimed you, you fell right into line."

I clenched my teeth, frustration boiling beneath my skin. "The west wing isn't mine," I said through gritted teeth. "This house isn't mine. You could get me into a lot of trouble."

"You don't think it's worth it?" Jensen's grin was almost infectious, but I resisted. "Oh, come on, Freya. You know you want to. Henry has always been so guarded. Such a good little soldier for the Mathers legacy. Don't you want to see what skeletons he has in his closet?"

I did want to see those skeletons, but not with Jensen as my partner in crime. For reasons I couldn't quite explain, I felt protective of Henry's family's secrets, even if he infuriated me.

"No," I said firmly, taking a step back. "I don't want to see them. And you shouldn't be here. I'm asking you to leave."

"Suit yourself," Jensen said, a smirk curling his lips as he moved further down the west wing.

"Hey!" I snapped, my voice echoing through the corridor. Clenching my teeth together, I followed him. "You need to go. Jensen, come on, this isn't funny."

He ignored me and opened a door, stepping into a room filled with towering bookshelves. "Huh," he said, almost to himself. "So this is the library."

I caught up to him, grabbing his wrist in a desperate attempt to drag him out. My fingers dug into his skin, but it was like trying to move a mountain. He didn't budge.

"Jensen," I hissed, "you can't be here."

Without warning, he spun around and pinned me against the wall. His grip was firm, unyielding. "Well now," he murmured, eyes gleaming with something dark and unsettling. "What do you think? Here? Or on the table?"

"W-what?" I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest.

"How would you like me to fuck you?" His voice was low, almost a growl.

"No," I said, panic rising like bile in my throat. "I don't want?—"

---