Page 42 of For Wrath and Redemption
He arches a brow. “Can the child within my heart rise above?”
When it dawns on me, I huff out a laugh. “It’s a lyric from the song you played, Jonah. Surely you know that.”
“Whythatlyric?”
He speaks calmly, almost indifferently, but something tells me my answer matters. It’s more than artistic curiosity. That caption hit a nerve, and the realization makes my heart race.Thisis the win I need.
I shrug. “No reason. I like that lyric.”
“Hmmm.” He hums, eyes bouncing between mine. I don’t back down.
“Why?” I ask innocently. “Is it a problem?”
The pause stretches, and I wonder if he finds comfort or protection in silence. Perhaps both. Or perhaps he wields it as a weapon—a way to control tone and direction. I smile softly. I am unbothered. I will not be manipulated.
“Well?”
“Nope. No problem.”
He shakes his head once, then takes a step backward, attention dropping to my lips briefly before lifting back to my eyes. He doesn’t smile, but there’s a softness in his expression that gives me pause. When he speaks again, his voice is low, intimate, and chills once again tickle my arms and neck.
“I’ll be ready for our full day tomorrow. Sleep well, Claire.”
“You too,” I say with a nod, and then he slips behind his side of the partition.
I watch his shadow move around his side of the room, and I pretendto busy myself with my phone until he disappears into the bathroom. The shower kicks on, and I release a sigh of relief as I crawl back into my bed.
Then I let myself smile.
Jonah’s reaction to the caption I chose for that video boosts my confidence. It tells me I’m starting to figure him out. I’m one step closer to understanding him, and that’s exactly the win I needed today.
I meant it when I said PR was like chess. It’s a complex game, and to win, I need to stay several moves ahead. I need to maintain the upper hand.
The biggest threat to Jonah’s public image is himself. To succeed in this job, I have to playforhim while also playingagainsthim. He’s his own worst enemy, which means as long as I’m here, he’s my enemy, too.
And what’s the first step in defeating your enemy?
Understanding them.
I’m going to take you down, Jonah Hendrix, and you’ll be thanking me after.
13
JONAH
“Doyou have any questions before we get there?”
I turn my head on the leather seat to look at Claire.
She’s got her straight, shiny brown hair pulled into a clip, a thin rose gold chain decorating her neck, and matching rose gold hoops in her earlobes. She’s wearing a pair of designer sunglasses, but I can tell she’s not looking at me. I’ve noticed that she keeps her eyes off me as much as possible. The only times she’s looked at me—really looked at me—were when we were arguing, and she was sizing me up. Everything else can be compared to a cursory glance at best. I can’t tell which I hate more—being seen or being ignored.
There’s something eerily familiar about her blue eyes. Reflective in a way that feels revelatory. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s also intriguing. I find myself oscillating between wanting to hide from her and wanting to do something that attracts her full attention.
When I don’t respond to her question, she turns her head toward me just as I knew she would. I can tell the moment her keen gaze lands on me. I dig my fingers into my thigh to distract from how my heart picks up pace.
“Jonah. Questions?”
“You’re taking me to volunteer at a youth center.” I shrug. “I assumed they’d instruct me on what to do when we get there.”
