Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 202770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1014(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 676(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 202770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1014(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 676(@300wpm)
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“It’s bred in me, man. I can’t help it. Do you want me to find out for you?”
“No,” I say. “She’ll tell me. Focus on finding out what’s really going on here, because it’s more than an affair.”
“Understood. You want her to trust you. Just don’t trust too much.”
“You don’t need to keep delivering that warning, Savage. I know what I’m doing with Emma. Focus on getting me answers.” I disconnect.
Chapter thirty-five
Emma
The nightmare haunts me even now, sitting at the room service table with Jax. I sip my coffee and listen as Jax tells me about the castle’s history that dates back a hundred years, but even so, even as interested as I am in what he’s saying, I can’t shake this nagging, ominous feeling that nightmare produced.
Still I ask questions, I engage. I want to know this man, I want to know about his life. “And the whiskey is produced right there?”
“The actual whiskey production is in Portland. We have two thousand employees there. At the castle, we run the business office, and there’s a facility for new product development. The attached land has a storage facility for the whiskey.”
There’s no way my family doesn’t know this, not if they were scouting the property. I open my mouth to say as much, but Jax’s cellphone rings. He grabs it from the table and glances at the number. “Jill. My operations manager.” He answers the line, and they begin talking about the event he’s invited me to attend this weekend.
“We are not blindfolding customers for a taste test,” Jax says, pushing to his feet in obvious agitation. He walks toward the balcony and just that easily, I’m flashing back to the past.
There’s a blindfold on my eyes and I want it off, I want it off so badly, but I can’t get it off. My hands are bound, and oh God, I’m naked. I try to do what he told me to do, to sink into the darkness, to lose myself in the darkness and forget everything else, but I can’t. It’s as if pins are prickling my skin. I shift from a past memory to the nightmare and all I can remember is falling into the darkness, certain that I will hit the ground and die any moment.
“Emma.”
At the sound of Jax’s voice, my gaze jerks up to find him standing by the side of my chair, towering above me. “Yes?”
“Why are you holding the butter knife like you’re about to stab the croissant to death?” He goes down on a knee in front of me, turning my chair to face him. His hand closes around the knife, and he sets it on the table. “Talk to me. What just happened?”
I swallow hard, in a place right now with Jax I don’t want to be. “I remembered the nightmare or part of it. I was falling.”
“Falling,” he says softly, his fingers flexing on my knee, just under the navy-blue skirt I’m wearing. “You said that earlier. Tell me. You were falling?”
There is something in this question, something sharp and hard, and yet his voice doesn’t change, his expression doesn’t change. “Yes, I told you, it’s a control thing. It’s this meeting with Marion and York showing up. Not to mention having my own apartment become a hazard. Triggers. These things are triggers. I’m actually looking forward to my Germany trip in two weeks. I need out of this city.”
“Start by coming home with me. Don’t make it a maybe like you did when you were packing. Make it a sure thing.”
Am I really going to do this? “When?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that. When can you leave?”
“I’ll know after the meeting,” I say.
“Does that mean you’re going with me?”
I breathe out, “Yes. Yes, I do believe I am.”
The hardness in his eyes evaporates, replaced by warmth. “Then let’s get you to that meeting.” He offers me his hand and helps me to my feet, his hand settling possessively at my hip. His hand that has been all over my body these past few days, memories heating my skin. “I want you with me when I leave, Emma.”
“I want to be with you, Jax.”
He leans in to kiss me when his phone buzzes again. He grimaces, his lips brushing mine before he retrieves his phone from his pocket and glances down at the messages. “I’m going to grab my purse,” I say, and I do just that, rushing to the bathroom, scooping it up, as well as my briefcase. My gaze shifts and somehow lands on the journal where it rests on the nightstand, the memory of Jax refusing to read it hitting me in all the right ways. He wants to read it. He’s holding back for me. I don’t remember the last time anyone sacrificed for me and I know that’s a sacrifice. I know Jax is looking for what pushed his brother over the edge. I know he thinks that’s my family and still, he didn’t read the journal. I decide to leave it on the nightstand. I just don’t want to risk leaving it in my office or apartment right now.