Page 52 of Jonathan

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s fine. I am accustomed to dealing with her theatrics.”

“I don’t want anything to upset you.”

“I am not a fragile piece of glass and if you’re going to continue to treat me like one, I am going to be royally pissed,” she warned.

“You were shot…!”

“And I am still here. Look, I know you think all of this is your fault, but you’re going to have to get over yourself. The bastard who shot me was to blame, not you.”

“It happened because of me,” he said tightly.

“It happened because of him,” she corrected.

Jonathan looked away; his resolve tested by her words. “I can’t just let it go, Kamilah. I can't forgive myself that easily.”

“You don’t have a choice,” she replied softly, her eyes searching his. “You have to learn to forgive yourself, just like I have to learn to get past this.”

He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “You’re right. But that doesn’t mean I won’t do everything in my power to help you heal.”

She smiled at him, a real, genuine smile that reached her eyes. “I know. And that’s all I need from you.”

They both lapsed into silence for a few minutes, each busy with their own thoughts.

“If you need me to fly your family over, it can be arranged.”

She sent him a faint smile. “Perhaps my friends, but I am not sure I can deal with them right now. Salome is high strung, and Lauren is…” She considered for a second, a smile curving her lips. “She’s a lawyer, a corporate lawyer for a billion-dollar company and she’s always finding something wrong with everything.”

“And Salome? What does she do?”

She laughed softly. “A lingerie model, a rather successful one at that. You’re probably seen her in magazines.”

“I don’t think so. I am not one to read those types of magazines.” He grinned when she rolled her gorgeous eyes at him.

“Of course you don’t. Do you read at all?”

He gave her a wounded look that had her laughing. “I would have you know that at the ranch, there is an entire room dedicated to just books. First editions included.”

“That means nothing. Most mansions boast a library or two. It’s part of the décor.”

“I assure you; it's not just for show. I spend countless hours there, lost in the pages of those books. They have been my solace in many difficult times.”

“Really? What kind of books do you enjoy?” She asked, curiosity piqued.

“History, primarily. There’s something about understanding the past that helps me make sense of the present.”

Her eyes softened as she listened to him. “It’s comforting to know that you find solace in books. I find mine in art.”

“Art?” He echoed, genuinely interested.

“Yes, painting and sketching,” she admitted. “It’s my way of expressing what I can’t put into words. And of course, writing. Speaking of which, I need to get in touch with my agent.”

“You have an agent.”

“I happen to be a big deal.”

“I have no doubt about that.” Bending his head, he brushed his lips against hers. “I should let you get some rest.”

“No.” She touched his face. “Stay a while and tell me what’s going on at the ranch.”

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