Page 46 of The Good Girl Effect
I meant what I said in that letter. I can separate work from pleasure. But pleasure from love? That sounds harder.
If anything romantic were to grow between us and it didn’t work out, I would be forced to leave, and it would crush that little girl. And after everything she’s been through, that would haunt me forever. Not to mention it would ruin my grand plans of getting out of Giverny and starting a new life.
So I can keep my heart guarded. It shouldn’t be hard with such an emotionally unavailable man. He would never let me in anyway.
In just a few short weeks, I’ve seen a new side of Jack. He was so elusive and grumpy to start, and now I’m seeing this softness in him. I see the desire and humility that he thinks he’s hiding so well.
Jack is just a man. And I may never know the pain he’s endured, but I can still see who he is underneath it all.
I imagine what it must be like to see all of him. To have Jack St. Claire without restraint. Even if he shuts out the world, I love the idea of him letting me in. And for someone who is not supposed to be getting romantically attached, it does sound awfully nice in my head.
When I get back to the apartment, it’s quiet and empty. Jack had meetings today, as he said during breakfast. So I have the house to myself.
And while I do need to do some shopping for supper, I also desperately need a nap to recoup the sleep I lost last night.
I quickly clean up the kitchen and set my list on the counter where I can find it later. Then I go to my room.
Distracted by the promise of a nap, I nearly forget about the letter I left Jack last night. So when I walk into the room and find a folded piece of paper on my pillow, I let out a gasp.
Of course he’s responded. These letters appear to be the only way we can truly communicate.
I open it quickly and start reading.
Camille,
I am not afraid of anything. It’s become clear to me that neither are you.
But since you are so intent on proving your ability to separate your role as my employee from your role as my submissive, then I will give you the opportunity.
There will be rules.
Rule #1: You cannot tell anyone about our sessions.
Rule #2: We will meet for one hour each night at midnight upstairs.
Rule #3: No sex.
I can prove my restraint if you can prove yours. I lost control last night, and I will not do it again.
If any of these rules are broken, the deal is off. No punishment. No second chances.
Let’s see if you can prove just how good you are.
Jack
Biting my lip, I smile down at the letter. The promise of more sessions fills me with excitement. Now I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep at all.
Dropping onto the mattress, I hold the handwritten note against my chest as I close my eyes. With thoughts of ropes and blindfolds and the scent of his spicy cologne, I drift off to sleep.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Bea asks with her hand in mine as we walk home from school. She prances along the sidewalk, trying to jump over cracks in the pavement.
I laugh as I smile down at her. “I am already grown up.”
She sneers up at me in confusion. “No, you’re not.”
“How old do you think I am?
“I don’t know,” she replies with a shrug. “This many?” She holds up both of her hands, showing ten fingers, and it makes me giggle.
