Page 81 of A Forgotten Promise

Seeing her in my space like that squeezes at something in my chest. Like she’s mine.

Her dark blue eyes stare at me with such raw honesty, almost pleading to be seen. The photo captures her looking fragile and strong at the same time.

Okay, well, based on Betsy’s fussing, I thought Saar posted nudes.

“What’s wrong with the picture?”

Betsy huffs. “Not the picture, the caption below it. Look, we’re coming up with a mitigation strategy, but try to motivate her to take it down. She’s not answering my phone.”

“What makes you think she’d answer mine?” I rumble.

“I’m adding a pain-in-my-ass markup to your next bill. Find her; talk to her. I’ll call you in an hour with an idea on how to spin this, or at least make sure it doesn’t derail your deal.”

I hang up and snatch Xander’s phone and read the post.

My new home… And it’s a lie… I have never felt more out of place than I do right now… I’m exhausted… And pretty damn lonely… Just me, sitting in a huge mansion, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do next.

“Wow, she has over a quarter of a mil likes already. She spent a week with you, and she’s suicidal.” Xander grabs his phone and leaves, laughing. Fucker.

I pinch the bridge of my nose.I’m pretty damn lonely. You and me, The Morrigan, you and me.

That woman will be the death of me. Because not only did she make me look like an asshole, but she made me feel responsible for her wellbeing.

And her honest cry in the form of a social media post makes me want to strangle her and embrace her at the same time.

“You can cajole huge corporations to do your bidding, and you can’t control your fiancée? Seriously, Corm, get your shit together, finally. Dad is dead. It’s been almost a year. He wouldn’t want you to derail your life like this.” Declan sighs.

“What the fuck do you know about what he wanted, or who he even was?” I grab a stapler and hurl it at the window.

Declan shakes his head. “He’s gone, Corm. You’re giving him way too much power.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“This has everything to do with him. Otherwise you wouldn’t get arrested, drunk, high, fuck strippers, and jeopardize your business. What was in that fucking letter he left you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I stand up, yanking my suit jacket from the backrest. “It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“If you say so.” He opens the door. “Go to talk to her, and try to leave your charming personality behind. If you want to spiral down, so be it; just don’t drag us all with you.”

“Saar, Saar,” I holler before I even close the front door. Livia comes from the kitchen, blinking. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Mr. Quinn, Ms. Saar is on the patio. It’s such a lovely day finally. We didn’t expect you to—”

“Take the afternoon off, Livia,” I snarl, rushing through the long hallway to the glass wall with the double door.

I stop at the threshold and take a deep breath to calm myself, but also to take in the vision in front of me.

Saar is wrapped in a thick, long, woolen dress that hugs her slender form, hiding and seducing. With her legs stretched out on a lounge bed, she’s wearing sunglasses, looking like the model she used to be.

With her side to me, she doesn’t know I’m there yet. My anger—irrationally—dissipates a notch just from the pure beauty of her. Her presence has an air of serenity that calms me.

It makes no sense, because most of the time she gives me her sass, and yet having her around has given me a sense of… what?

I can’t name it. Fuck, I don’t want to name it. These unchartered feelings are unwelcome.

For a moment, I wish I could just join her, sit beside her, and close my eyes. Let her breath wash over me. Make me feel whole and not so… lonely. Fuck, no wonder her post went viral; it even relates to me.

But that’s not what I’m here for. That’s not what would get me my deal.

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