Page 77 of Tempted By Eden

She glares, her lips drawn tight, her eyes like daggers. Then she snatches the toast from my hand. “Fine,” she snaps, her voice like ice. “Nowyou can go away. But this doesn’t change anything,” she adds, her eyes flicking to mine for only a microsecond.

A small smile of victory creeps onto my face. She took it. It’s small, almost nothing, but to me, it’s everything. One tiny victory in this war I’m fighting to win her back. “You’re welcome,” I say, offering the coffee again.

She doesn’t take it though, just strides toward the gate, her pace quick and determined. I hate that she doesn’t even look at me most of the time. It’s like I’m a ghost haunting the edges of her life, begging for scraps of her attention.

I fall into step beside her. “Let me take you to work,” I offer, jutting my chin at my Range Rover parked just a few feet away. “It’s faster than the train.”

“No,” she replies without even looking at me, pulling her earphones from her purse and shoving them in her ears.

I sigh, but I don’t stop following her. We’ve had the same conversation all month. She picks up her pace like she’s trying to lose me, and I stay a few steps behind, making sure she gets to the train station safely. Every time she walks alone through this neighborhood, it drives me insane. The cracked sidewalks and random drugged-out fuckers lurking feel like a trap waiting to spring. I can’t stop imagining the worst—what if someone followed her? What if she screamed and I wasn’t there to hear it? I wouldn’t survive it.

When we reach the station, she doesn’t spare me a glance as she heads for the platform. The crowd is already gathering and the loud screech of the brakes slices through the air as a train pulls in. Cora doesn’t even look back at me as she weaves through the throng of commuters, her purse clutched tightly at her side. I stay back, watching as she boards the train, my heart filled with the tiniest bit of hope as the doors slide shut behind her. It’s just a flicker, but it’s there. She took the toast. After a month of silence, after endless mornings of cold stares, shetookit. It wasn’t much—probably an act born more of frustration than acceptance—but it was something. A crack in the wall she’s built between us. Maybe tomorrow, she’ll take the coffee, too. Maybe next time, she’ll look me in the eye when she does.

Small steps. That’s what I keep telling myself. If I can just keep showing up, keep proving that I’m not going anywhere, maybe one day those small steps will lead us back to where we were. Maybe she’ll remember what we had before everything went wrong. Before I fucked it all up. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I’ve taken one small step forward. And I’ll take it. I’ll take whatever I can get.

At work, I could have called her into my office. I could have forced her to talk, to listen. But I haven’t and I won’t. Our personal shit has no place in the office. It’ll only force her to quit to get away from me. I won’t ruin her career or have her scrambling for money again. That’s not love. I can’t do that to her. She deserves better—even if she hates me.

But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up.

Every morning, I’ll continue to be here. I’ll offer her breakfast, offer her a ride, offer her a sliver of the life she deserves, even if she won’t take it yet. I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes for her heart to soften, for her walls to crack, for her to see that I’m not going anywhere.

Because I can’t lose her. Not like this.

Not forever.

Chapter forty-one

Cora

The soft golden lightsof Eden seem brighter tonight, almost intrusive. I kneel on stage, palms resting on my knees, fighting the urge to cover myself, to shield my body from the possessive gaze of potential clients. Even though I’ve been through this before, every look cuts through me tonight, picking apart my armor. It’s my first night back at Le Jardin. Nerves hum beneath my skin, and although I’m not as scared as the first time—when I was on the verge of a panic attack—I’m still vulnerable. I doubt I’ll ever be truly comfortable if it’s not James I’m kneeling for.

I mentally shake my head. Now is not the time to be thinking about James. It will only lead me down a path I can’t afford to go down. I force myself to shove the thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. I need to be present; I need to stay focused. This is just another night, another transaction.

Movement stirs around me, a subtle shift of the air, but I keep my eyes down, waiting to hear my fate. A voice. A choice.

Then I hear it.

“Stand.”

His voice slides through the air, deep and unmistakable. My heart stumbles, equal parts anger and relief flood my body, crashing into one another like waves during a storm. Of course it’s him. It had to be him.

I lift my eyes slowly. James stands before me, tall and commanding, his hands shoved into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit.

Heat crawls up my neck.

I should turn him down. I should say no. But instead, I take his offered hand. My fingers curl around his, and without a word, I rise from my knees and follow him out of the lounge. Eden isn’t the place for a scene, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me fired.

As soon as we step into the private room and the door closes behind us, sealing us off from the world, I spin around, fury crackling through me.

“You’ve got some balls being here,” I snap, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.

James doesn’t flinch. His voice drops low. “I don’t want to fight, Cora. I just need you to hear me out.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to fuck you.” I laugh bitterly, lifting my chin as I stare him down.

He takes a step closer, holding his hands up in surrender. “Cora, I’m not here for that. I’m here foryou. To apologize.”

I scoff, turning away from him, my jaw clenching.

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