Page 104 of Power
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to take a short break before this four-legged menace decides to test gravity with my body.”
I gave Buttercup a good rub between her ears. “Good girl,” I whispered. “At least one of us knows how to behave around pretty boys.”
After dismounting, I pulled some food from the satchel I’d secured on the back of my horse and gave the ladies something to munch on. Including Snickerdoodle, who, despite her antics, was still a very good girl.
“I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the ride,” I said as Jace approached me, his hair adorably disheveled from his battle with equestrian dignity.
“Wouldn’t go so far as to say that.”
I eyed him, smirking. “You seemed miserable.”
“With the horse’s behavior,” he clarified, his lips quirking into a half smile. “The company was perfect.”
My eyes stung again for the umpteenth time since Jace had brought me here.
“How did you know to bring me here?” I asked, handing a carrot to Buttercup, who accepted it like the lady she was. “How’d you know what it would do for me?”
Jace closed the distance between us, his strides rustling along the grass in his bazillion-dollar shoes that, before tonight, had probably never seen actual dirt.
“When you brought me here, you said horses never hurt you the way people do. I could see you had a connection to this horse that was deep. Healing.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “Figured after what you went through today …” Jace swallowed and clenched his eyes shut, like the memory of seeing me trembling under that desk was one he couldn’t bear. “I was hoping she would make you feel safe again.”
Sucking in a sudden breath, it struck me how well he knew me. And how, in that moment, he’d wanted to make me feel better. More than anything. I mean, my God, this was a CEO who had a predator in his company. Others in his position might’ve prioritized his needs: uncovering who had done this so he could protect his precious company image. But instead, he prioritized me.
Stepping even closer, Jace allowed his gaze to travel around my face, like it physically pained him, imagining what I had gone through. Then, he drew his knuckles up and traced them down my jaw, the touch sending my skin aflame.
“Are you okay, Scarlett?” He said the words softly, his voice a mixture of concern and something deeper, as if my well-being had somehow become crucial to his own.
When I nodded, his chest dropped a couple of inches. Relief, I guess, housed behind a breath he’d been holding this entire time.
“I don’t ever want to see you like that again,” he declared.
“Me neither.” I tried to say it lightly, but my attempt at humor was lost on him as he cupped my cheek, stroking my skin with his thumb.
“I have something for you,” I said, nervous energy suddenly fluttering in my chest.
“For me?” His eyebrows rose in genuine surprise.
I nodded, crossing over to grab my purse from the satchel, grateful Jace had grabbed it before we’d left the building. I pulled out a small package wrapped in simple brown paper and twine. Nothing fancy, but somehow, that made it feel more significant.
“It’s not much, but …” I trailed off as I handed it to him.
Jace carefully unwrapped it, revealing the worn cover ofThe Keeper’s Compass. His fingers froze on the book, and for a moment, I worried I’d made a terrible mistake. Then I watched his throat work as he swallowed hard. When he opened the coverto find the handwritten signature inside, his composure cracked just enough for me to see the boy who’d once found direction through its pages.
“eBay has everything,” I said softly. “Found this signed first edition and had it expedited. I ordered it as a thank-you for punching my father in the face and intended to give it to you sooner but …” I smiled. “This moment felt right.”
He ran his thumb across the signature, a gesture so tender that it made something in my chest ache. I’d seen Jace confident, powerful, even angry, but never vulnerable like this.
“You remembered.” His voice was hushed with wonder.
“Your mom used to read it to you when you felt lost,” I said, echoing his earlier explanation. “I worried you might already have a copy, but I thought maybe not a signed one.”
“I don’t—” His voice caught. “Didn’t.”
He looked up at me then, and I saw something shift in his eyes. This man who could buy anything, who controlled billion-dollar deals with a single word, was holding this battered children’s book like it was made of gold.
“Thank you, Scarlett,” he said simply, but the weight behind those three words felt heavier than any flowery speech could have been.
A silence fell between us. His expression shifted, like he was wrestling with some internal decision. Probably wondering if he should keep pressing me for a name or let me decide when to bring it up. After a sigh, I figured he’d opted for the latter, thank God, but a fresh wave of anxiety flooded his face. His eyes, usually so confident and direct, flickered away toward Snickerdoodle and then back to mine.
