Page 32 of Savage Prince
I can’t help feeling torn. I appreciate that Jamie took the time to gather my stuff and bring it, but I know it was Aiden who made him do it.
It’s just another way he’s trying to control me. As if Aiden wants to show me yet again that he can have my life put together or dismantled on a whim. That he can make things as easy or hard for me as he chooses.
At least I have fucking clothes now.
The thought makes me hyper-aware of the fact that I’m in nothing but an oversized shirt and underwear.
“Well… thank you,” I finally say, trying to surreptitiously tug down the shirt to cover more of my legs. “I’m sure you had more important things to do than pack for me.”
He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I search for something else to say and come up with, “Are you, um, still with Harper?”
The change in Jamie’s face is immediate. Even before he speaks, I know the answer isn’t good. His jaw clenches, the stormy color of his eyes darkening further.
“She died. A year ago.”
My stomach tightens, and I feel like an asshole for asking, even though I probably shouldn’t feel pity for any O’Reilly.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Jamie just nods. He lifts the suitcases beside him and starts walking up the stairs.
The tension that radiates from him makes it clear he’s done talking to me, so I go to throw away the last remnants of my breakfast and wait until I hear him come back down. I step out of the kitchen as he passes by, half expecting him to leave without uttering another word.
Instead, Jamie pauses at the front door and turns to look at me over his shoulder.
“Let me know if I forgot anything,” he says quietly. “And be sure to lock the door.”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
He nods, then steps outside. I lock the door and then go upstairs to take a quick shower before tugging a light sundress out of my bag and dressing.
Staring at the open bags on the floor, I chew on my bottom lip. There’s not a single part of me that wants to unpack. I don’t want my things in the closet next to Aiden’s things. I don’t want my clothes to smell like him. I settle for rummaging through the suitcases and refolding everything, organizing it all so I can live out of my bags for the next few weeks.
As for what happens beyond the next few weeks? I don’t know, and I’m trying not to think about it.
A little before noon, my phone pings with a message, and I almost jump out of my skin at the sound.
Fuck, I’m so on edge right now.
When I pick it up to read the screen, I see a text from Noah confirming that we’re still on for lunch today. I blink stupidly, trying to reconcile the plans I made with him just yesterday with the strange, terrifying turn my life has taken.
I bite my lip and stare down at the little text bubble. Aiden never said I couldn’t leave. I may be stuck marrying him, but I’m not a prisoner.
I make up my mind before I can chicken out and text Noah to let him know that I’ll be there. Then I use a rideshare app to call for a ride. I wasn’t given rules, and I’m not going home, so it shouldn’t matter that I’m going out.
The car arrives after just a few minutes, and no one stops me from walking out the front door, although I half expect a man in a black suit to tackle me on my way out of the house. Instead, I slip into the back seat and we take off down the road.
Noah is already at the restaurant when I arrive, sitting on the patio that borders the sidewalk. He smiles when he sees me, and I feel a relief unlike anything I’ve experienced before.
He’s still here, still real, still normal.
Maybe that meansI’mstill normal.
“Hey. I picked a spot outside. I hope that’s okay,” he says, shoving his phone into his back pocket.
I grin, slipping through the opening in the small black fence that wraps around the patio. “This looks perfect.”
