Page 6 of Volatile

“And what about the turtleneck she wore today, huh? It’s a sunny seventy-five degrees out! Did you at least comment about that?”

“Ms. Swanson.” He kept an even tone, despite all the daggers he had to keep dodging out of the way for. “It may take some time before she’s comfortable enough to—”

“We don’t have time.” She took a step closer. “Lily insists that it’s over, but it’s imperative we find out who this scumbag is before he can lure her back in. Or before he can hurt anyone else.”

“I can promise you, if you allow me to do my job, I—”

“Just be sure that you do, Mr. Blazek.” She pawed at her phone again, and Jon clenched his jaw. What the fuck? “How does Wednesday at one sound?”

“That will be fine.” He’d have to double-check his schedule later, but at least he wasn’t giving her something new to argue about. “I’ll see Lily then. Alone.”

She narrowed her eyes and he could almost feel the fire in them. She hadn’t gotten her way, and that pissed her off. But fortunately, she must have cared enough about Lily not to push it further.

“Fine,” she muttered, then spun around on her heels and walked out in a huff.

It took a few minutes after she left before everything sunk in. What the hell was that all about? He didn’t need the attitude. He wasn’t even getting paid for this shit.

Jon locked both office doors and made the short trek outside to the main house. He normally used the inside stairs but was in sore need of some fresh air. He seemed to be avoiding it lately. He had to make it a habit to start back up his daily runs on the hard pavement as opposed to sucking in recycled air from the gym. But at least he’d managed to keep his muscles from atrophying.

He went around to his front stoop and sat down on the concrete slab, tilting his face up to some much-needed sunshine. Scraping his palms against the rough surface, he wondered once again what the deal was between the two sisters and what he was getting involved in. Maybe Ivy wasn’t a crazy bitch. Maybe she was just having a bad day. She was worried about Lily; he got that. But unless she kept her ass out of it, she was only going to make things worse.

Jon pushed himself up and went inside, heading straight to the fridge and pulling out a cold one. It was too nice a day to waste it indoors, so he ended up back out on his deck. He used to love it out here; he’d put in enough time and care building it exactly right and now he was neglecting it. It was long overdue for a good cleaning and staining.

He tipped the bottle back, the ice cold liquid feeling mighty nice as it slid down his throat. His eyes zeroed in on the railing, and he turned away before he started seeing things.

Go stand by the railing, pet.

He sat and guzzled the rest of his beer, slamming the bottle down on the table. He shouldn’t be out here.

Relax, Julia. I just want to look at you for a while in the sunlight. You’re very beautiful.

No, he shouldn’t be on the deck. Not when he could still easily picture her leaning against the hard rungs, her perfect breasts jutting out of the shirt he provided for her, shivering even though it was an unseasonably warm May day. She was scared of someone seeing her, but there was no reason to be. He didn’t share what he loved.

Do you desire to be owned, Julia?

Fucking memories. It had to be the sun, the warmth, the month. The conditions were almost identical to that day a year before.

Jon squeezed the chair arms until his hands fatigued. Yeah, he was full of shit. It wouldn’t matter if he were in the middle of a goddamned blizzard. She was still fucking everywhere. There wasn’t a place he could go in his damn house anymore without her taunting him. Images of her in every room, every position. On your knees, sweetheart. Full lips parted and soft blue eyes filled with need as she looked up at him. Open your throat and let me in.

Fuck. And just for an added kick to the balls, his cock was straining against his pants. Where was Lizbeth when he needed her?

He leaned his head back and looked up at the sky. And what if he did have Lizbeth right now? How far would that get him? She wasn’t her. No one was. All these months later and Julia was still everywhere. Yet nowhere. He knew he’d go to bed that night and imagine her in his arms, feel her silky hair all over his chest, hear the soft murmurs escaping her mouth.

But fuck it. Julia was gone and would never be back. And he was done. So fucking done with all this fucking love shit.

He. Was. Done.

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