Page 41 of Ensnared
He raised his head to stare into my eyes.
“Why do you always tell me last minute?” I asked.
I slipped off me. His stomach was coated with come the same way mine was.
“This is business. Meetings come up all the time last minute. You have to get used to it,” he said, his tone gruff.
“I’ll stay,” I said.
He climbed off the bed, and scooped me into his arms, carrying me to the bathroom.
Chapter 16
I woke to an empty bed, the sheets still warm from Colson's body. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was barely 6 a.m. – another half hour before I needed to rise. Instead of drifting back to sleep, curiosity got the better of me.
Slipping out of bed, I padded quietly into Colson's closet. My fingers trailed over the rows of expensive, tailored suits, each one a testament to his wealth and power. The fabric felt smooth and cool beneath my touch, so different from the worn clothes I'd grown up with.
"I shouldn't be doing this," I whispered to myself, even as I moved deeper into the closet.
My eyes fell on the island in the center, its drawers beckoning. Colson was such an enigma, and part of me yearned to understand him better. With a furtive glance over my shoulder, I began to open the drawers.
The first few held nothing of interest – just neatly folded ties and cufflinks. But as I reached the bottom drawer, my breath caught.There, tied with a red ribbon, lay a bundle of letters. I recognized the handwriting immediately: Poppy's.
My heart constricted as I lifted the bundle, feeling the weight of memories and unspoken emotions. Poppy had been everything I wasn't – sweet, nurturing, and born into this world of wealth and privilege. Of course Colson still missed her.
"I'll always be a poor substitute, won't I?" I murmured, carefully replacing the letters.
As I closed the drawer, a wave of melancholy washed over me. I remembered Poppy's kindness, her gentle smile. It didn't surprise me that Colson still held onto these mementos of her.
Stepping back from the island, I hugged myself tightly. The opulent closet suddenly felt cold and unwelcoming. I was an intruder here, in more ways than one.
As I sat on the bed, my mind raced. Colson was a hard man to know, and now I felt I understood him even less. What place could I possibly have in his life, with Poppy's ghost still lingering?
The sheets no longer felt warm and inviting. Instead, they seemed to whisper of secrets and a past I could never compete with. I gathered my clothing, silently heading down the hall dressed in Colson’s shirt and praying Simone or Vaughn wouldn’t encounter me.
I lay curled up on my bed, tears streaming down my face, when I heard the soft click of my bedroom door opening. Startled,I looked up to see Colson's silhouette in the doorway, his unexpected presence sending a jolt through me.
"Josephine?" His voice was low, tinged with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "I'm home. Why are you crying?"
I hastily wiped at my tears, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. "It's nothing, I'm fine," I lied, my voice betraying me with a slight tremor.
Colson stepped into the room, his brow furrowed. Despite his usual hard demeanor, I could see a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Clearly, you're not fine. Tell me what happened."
I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. But his intense gaze broke through my defenses, and the words tumbled out. "Simone," I whispered. "We had a fight earlier, by the pool. It... it got physical."
I swallowed hard remembering how she approached me with her hand raised as I sat on a lounger enjoying the afternoon sun. She wouldn’t let it go and insisted I was trying to replace Poppy. I couldn’t do that. No one could replace her. I would be my own woman.
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Physical how?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
I swallowed hard, fresh tears threatening to fall. "She attacked me. I was just sitting there, and she came out of nowhere. She was screaming about how I'm trying to replace her mother, and then she just... lunged at me."
Colson's eyes flashed with anger. Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room. I could hear his heavyfootsteps echoing down the hallway, followed by the sound of a door being flung open.
A minute later, he returned, his face a storm of emotions. "Simone's not in her room," he growled.
Before I could respond, Colson moved swiftly to my bedside. In one fluid motion, he scooped me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest. The sudden proximity made my heart race, a confusing mix of fear and comfort washing over me.
"C-Colson?" I stammered, my hands instinctively gripping his shirt. "What are you doing?"
