Page 99 of Power
And I knew just how to do it.
As I guided her gently from beneath the desk, her fingers tightened around mine like a lifeline. A silent plea not to let go. And in that moment, I made a silent vow that I wouldn’t.
Not today, not ever.
50
SCARLETT
For the record, I wasn’t silent on the long drive to wherever the hell Jace was taking me because I was upset he’d taken control and insisted I come with him. I was silent because I was furious with myself for allowing Marcus to reduce me to that pathetic little girl who hid under furniture. I’d sworn I would never be her again. I’d been proud of the woman I’d become.
A professional woman paying her own bills and matching powerful men in conference-room showdowns. And let’s not discount how I’d handled my best friend, Tessa, dating a very powerful man. Blake was an emergency room physician who made serious money and lived in that ridiculous penthouse, taking control of her medical care. Did I warn her away from that? No, I did not. Because I recognized that my own demons weren’t mine to spread like an infection through society and certainly not into my best friend’s heart. And during my encounters with Blake, was I nervous? Hell no. I leaned into my confidence and sarcasm with ease, comfortable around his presence because, deep down, I sensed he was a good man. That my best friend had nothing to worry about.
I’d made so much progress becoming the Scarlett I wanted tobe, stuffing down that pathetic, whimpering version of my childhood self.
And then it all just evaporated right in front of me with one wolf in a suit. One. I was so angry with myself. So disappointed for letting him break through that invisible wall and yank out my inner scared child by her hair. And beneath that anger and disappointment was a giant fresh wave of fear.
What if I would never be whole, would never be one hundred percentnew Scarlett—the Scarlett I chose to be rather than the one I’d tried to leave behind? What if this vulnerable version of me would always be lying beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break through? I thought I had shoved her down deep enough where that could never happen.
So, why then did it happen today?
Because some pathetic excuse for a man had attacked me? I was safe when it happened. All I had to do was scream, for crying out loud. The building had security, so logically speaking, there was no reason to let myself feel that afraid. It was pathetic.
Maybe I’d fallen into the dark hole of vulnerability because tonight was the first time in years my resolve had been tested to the breaking point. After all, other than my father, I had never had a man lay hands on me.
Still, I hated myself for it.
In fairness, I guess it was only human to be rattled by that whole Marcus attack. It’d probably rattle anyone, let alone someone with my past.
I took a deep breath, forcing my shoulders to relax. What I needed was clarity. Focus. I needed to pivot away from this spiral of shame and think about my next move.
Marcus was going down.
In. Fucking. Flames.
“You don’t need to look at me like I’m some broken person because I’m not,” I said. It was the first thing I’d said in almost an hour. Pathetically, it had taken that long for this shock, or whatever the hell it was that silenced my voice, to finally break.
“I cantell you’re not,” Jace said softly.
He flipped his hand open on the space between our seats, while he alternated between looking murderous and worried. I glanced down at his palm, surprised by how much I wanted to take it. Even more surprised by how soothing it felt when I finally laced my fingers with his.
His hand was warm, steady. Strong in a way I needed right now.
“My mom didn’t intend to get pregnant with me,” I rambled, the words tumbling out now that the dam had broken. “She got married really young. By the time she realized her husband was a raging asshole, two pink lines appeared on a pregnancy test. She stayed for me. She wanted to make it work, wanted to go to therapy, wanted to get help, but you can’t fix somebody who doesn’t think they need fixing. He’s an arrogant asshole, but I’m not a victim. I’ve never been a victim. I’ve simply been the daughter of a complete raging narcissist.”
I glanced out the window, watching the lane markings blur beneath the car as we sped along the highway. The sky was beginning to take on that golden-hour glow, making everything look deceptively peaceful.
“I’m not weak.” Maybe if I said it enough, it would feel true tonight. “It’s very important to me that you see that I’m not weak.”
“Scar,” Jace said, shifting in his seat, gripping the wheel with only one hand. His other remained firmly entwined with mine, his thumb absently tracing circles against my skin. “We’ve talked about this. I don’t see you as weak.”
“Yeah, well, we talked about that before tonight.” Before I’d cowered under a desk, trembling like a child.
“Can we talk about what happened?” His voice was careful, measured.
My heart thundered in my chest, nausea swirling in my gut. My throat tightened, and I felt the cold sweat break out across my forehead again.
He must have sensed my panic because he squeezed my hand gently and said, “It’s okay. Take some time.”
