Page 43 of My Destiny
“Hey.” He pulls me into his arms. “I’m not leaving you,” he says. “I have a home office on the other side of that door.” He points across the room. I wondered what was behind that door earlier today, when I was here on my own. “Do you want me to walk you to your room?”
“Please.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight back the tears as I bury my face in his chest. I’m trying my best to keep it together. He can’t see me cry; he’ll think I’m weak.
He picks up my bag before reaching for my hand. “Come.” Once there, he places my things on the bed. “Are you going to be okay?”
I shrug. “Eventually. I’m just a little spooked at the moment.”
“That’s totally understandable, but you know you’re safe here, right?”
I wrap my arms around my torso. “I don’t feel safe anywhere right now.”
He gives me a sympathetic look. “How about I work on my laptop in my bedroom, that way I’m just next door.”
I feel an instant calm. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll run downstairs and grab my briefcase.”
“Okay.”
I lock the bedroom door when he leaves, and sit on the side of the bed until I hear him return. Once I know he’s nearby, I gather what I need for my shower. I lock the bathroom door also. I hate how rattled this has gotten me.
The warm shower doesn’t have the relaxing effect I was hoping for. My mind is racing as I struggle to understand the reasons behind what’s happening. My heart tells me the Jake I fell in love with isn’t the one behind this, but my gut is conflicted. Who else would harbor such hatred towards me? The detective we spoke to earlier said they’re still trying to track Jake down. Apparently, the house we bought together has been repossessed by the bank, and there is no record of a forwarding address.
Walking over to the bedroom door, I make sure it’s still locked before climbing into bed. I leave the light on because I don’t feel safe in the dark right now. Even though Logan lives on the top floor in a secure building, I’m still feeling uneasy. Pulling the covers up around my chin, I stare up at the ceiling. Sleep won’t come easy tonight.
I lie there for the longest time—possibly hours—listening and internally freaking out with each sound. I jump when I hear a soft knock on the bedroom door. “Brooke, it’s me. Is everything okay?”
Throwing back the covers, I rush to the door. “Hey,” I say the moment I open it. He’s changed out of his suit into a T-shirt and sweats. Even casually dressed, he looks good enough to eat.
“I thought you might still be awake. I saw the light under the door.” His eyes move down my body, and even though I’m dressed in the least flattering thing I own—an oversized pink T-shirt—I’m suddenly feeling exposed. My skin prickles under the weight of his stare. There’s something in the way he looks at me. It’s not creepy, but rather predatory, but in a good way. His eyes snap back to mine when I tug on the hem, trying to cover myself.
My gaze drops to the floor. “I can’t sleep,” I admit.
“Do you want to come and sit with me for a while? I’m still working, but I have a TV in my room.
“Please,” I say, jumping at the chance to no longer be alone.
“I was just heading downstairs to grab a bottle of water; would you like one?”
“Sure.”
“Great. Make yourself comfortable,” he says, gesturing towards his bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come with you,” I blurt out like a stage five clinger, and he’s either oblivious to my eagerness or sympathetic to my plight, because he doesn’t bat an eyelid.
“Wow,” is the only word out of my mouth when I enter his bedroom. My eyes are everywhere, because I don’t know where to look first. On the far right wall, the rich mahogany door to the large walk-in robe is partly open, and I catch a glimpse of his suits meticulously hung in a neat row along the back wall. My gaze moves over the thick wooden posts of his king-sized bed. The chunky bedside tables and huge dresser match perfectly. Unlike the bright and airy room I’ve been staying in, this one is darker—moodier, even—and way more masculine. Like everything he owns, it reeks money and it suits him.
My eyes are drawn to the floor to ceiling windows to the left. There appears to be a balcony set off the glass sliding doors, the idyllic place for morning coffees. He wasn’t lying, the view from here is just as spectacular as the one in his main room.
He picks up a remote next to the bed and presses a button. I watch in awe as a large flat screen television rises out of the foot of the bed. “You can watch telly, or come sit with me over there.” He points to the leather winged back sofa.
As much as I feel the need to be as close to him as possible, I’m happy just to be in the same room. “I don’t want to disturb you any more than I have. I might just watch TV.”
“Watch whatever you like,” he says, handing me the remote.
