Page 23 of It Will Always Be You
“So, tell me about yourself. Forewarning, this time, I won’t let you escape without answering.”Fuck.
“There’s not much to know. I’ve lived a pretty sheltered, boring life.” I shrug.
“Any siblings? Hobbies?” he probes, and without even pausing, I make the decision to lie to him. I’d happily throw Peter under the microscope, but doing so would increase the risk of him finding out more and endangering Freya.
“No, I’m an only child. And who has time for hobbies when they’re working full time? My boss is a real hard ass. All kinds of late nights and early starts.” I brush him off with a teasing smirk.
“Is that so? Maybe I need to have a word with him for you. Everyone should have time for something that brings them joy. What do you do when you go home from work?” he pushes, not giving in to the distraction I tried to dangle in front of him.
“You mean other than having a glass of wine and watching a horror film?” I joke.
“So, horror movies are your guilty pleasure. I’m more of a thriller man myself.”
“No way, they’re too scary!” I gasp, clutching the stem of my wine glass.
“Isn’t that the whole point?” He laughs.
“No! The point is to be entertained, not to scare yourself shitless,” I rebuke, and with that, we delve into a debate of which is better and our favourite films. We talk about everything and nothing at the same time—it flows seamlessly, effortlessly. We hardly even stop talking to eat, and before I know it, the food is done, I’m a bottle of wine down, and there’s just us and the stifling tension that has been building between us all evening. It’s a living, breathing thing between us. My walls are hanging on by a tether. This kind of ease so soon isn’t normal. I shouldn’t feel relaxed enough that I have to remind myself not to mention Freya. I haven’t so much as dared utter her name aloud when I’m alone, never mind share her with someone else. But Johnathan has me wanting to spill my every secret, my every hope and dream.
“Thank you for humouring me and letting me take you out tonight,” he murmurs.
“It’s been a beautiful night, but I’m still not sure this is a smart idea,” I confess, looking up at him from under my lashes.
“What can I do to convince you to let me prove to you this can work?” He leans his elbows on the table, imploring me to give him a shot, and it’s with a twist in my gut I realise I want to. I want to take this for myself. I want a chance to be wined and dined again, to feel like I’m the only thing he sees.
“We’d have to keep things quiet. I don’t want the office talkingabout us.” The words have barely crossed my lips before he’s nodding along.
“That can be arranged. We’ll have to tell HR to keep things above board, but that doesn’t mean it has to go any further than Donna. Secret is her middle name.”
“True.” I fall silent, weighing my options.
Is it so wrong to want something for myself for once? For so long, my life was controlled, my freedom non-existent. Even now, when I’m technically free of the Clan’s control, I’ve still spent more time hiding than living. Isn’t it time to live a little?
“Fine. I’ll give you a chance. But I’m warning you now, Mr O’Neill: I won’t be easily won over.” The heat in his eyes as I tease him has me curious to know what would happen if we were truly alone right now. Would he make a move? Tease and taunt me some more?
“Sweetheart, I’ll have you begging for mercy soon enough. Just remember, you’re the one who issued the challenge.” With that dark promise, he rounds the table. Bathed in candlelight, he leans down, caging me between the chair and him as he claims my mouth for the second time. More than a little eager, I reach up and circle my arms around his neck as I open for him with a moan. The chemistry between us is unlike anything I’ve ever known. Everywhere he touches me feels like I’m on fire, like I could burst from my skin at any moment. If this isn’t worth the risk, then what is?
Chapter 19
The way life passes in a blur when things are going well truly is a crime that should be studied. For the first time in my life, I wish I could hit the pause button to soak up every second of it. But every day since our first date has flown by, and before I know it, a month has passed. A month filled with secret looks, heated touches, and all manner of luxury dates. A month of Jonathan carving a space for himself inside my walls. A month of shared laughs and not an ounce of regret for my choice. But like all good things, it comes to a screeching halt in the most abrupt way.
The morning started like any other, with the largest coffee mug I could find while answering the influx of emails that appeared overnight. No matter how empty I leave my inbox at the end of the day, it’s always bursting at the seams by the next morning. But as time ticked on, and eight turned to nine and nine turned to ten with no sign of Jonathan, unease started crawling through me.
Not showing up is not his MO. Being late isdefinitelynot his MO. Not texting or ringing me to tell me he wasmaking a detour or had a last minute of site meeting? Highly unlikely. Something’s not right. Firing off the last of my emails, I head up to Donna’s office. If anyone here would know what’s going on or where he is, it would be her. Only, her office is empty too, and going by the scattered paperwork on the floor of her otherwise meticulous office, it wasn’t a planned exit. With anxiety crawling through my veins, I run back to my office to grab my phone. I’m already halfway to the exit by the time Jonathan answers.
“Helen… My Da…” Three words, and yet they convey everything. The pain in his tone, the broken whisper, says it all. Something is drastically wrong. I need to get to him.Pronto.
“I’m on my way. Just please hold on,” I beg as I flag down the first taxi I see. Stumbling my way through giving the man Jonathan’s father’s address, it’s all I can do not to shout and demand he hurry. The last thing we need is to be pulled over by the police, but Jonathan needs me, and he needs menow.
As the car pulls into the driveway, it dawns on me I don’t have any cash, but before I can work out a plan, the car door is being yanked open to reveal a frantic Donna. In my four months of working for the firm, never once have I seen her look anything less than polished perfection. Yet, here she is, her hair looking like she’s been running her hands through it for hours, her feet bare, throwing cash at the driver as she pulls me after her.
“Thank God you’re here. I should have known to grab you when I got the call. Go on up. He’s in Senior’s room.” Her words are a hoarse whisper that speaks of her own grief, and, not for the first time, I question just how she’s connected to the Four Points. It’s glaringly obvious that she is, but that’s a question for another day.
Bracing myself, I head up the stairs, following the path we took the last time I was here. As I brush my fingertips over the framed photos that tell the story of a happy childhood, my heart breaks for what I know lies ahead. The grief clings to every corner of this house like a weighted blanket, determined to suffocate everyone inside. I draw closer to the bedroom, the eerie silence solidifying what I’m walkingin to. There’s no wheezing breaths. The gentle whir of the oxygen tank is silent. When I cross the threshold into the room, the sight that greets me nearly sends me to my knees. Grief is something I’ve never been exposed to, and as I take in Jonathan, on his knees at his father’s bedside, with his head resting on the sheet while clutching his father’s motionless hand, I pray I never have to experience it firsthand. This is gutting enough, and as my heart breaks for Jonathan, my resolve to be there for him in whatever manner he needs it only strengthens.
“Hey there, handsome,” I breath out as I edge closer to him, laying a hand on his shoulder and feeling him lean into it with a whole body shudder. He reaches up to link his hand with mine, drawing strength from me.
“Thank you for coming. I’m sorry, I...”
