I'm scrolling through a sea of baby pictures and engagement announcements when I see it.
It's some kind of ad, judging by the "sponsored" tag at the top of the little box, but it must be an ad for a gossip site, because there's a splashy, obnoxious headline beneath the picture.
It's a picture of Jax.
He has his hand raised in front of his eyes, but the photog got a lucky angle, because his face is clearly visible. He's looking down into the face of a woman with gorgeous red hair and a killer body, and she's looking up at him, her eyes full of charm and focus.
I check the date.
So that's where he went last night, after he left me.
My body feels numb.
It's a ridiculous reaction. The agreement Jax and I have is explicit when it comes to the fact that there will be no relationship.
Stabbing my thumb against the screen of the phone, I back out of the app and stare out the window at the empty early-morning sidewalks instead.
This woman will have no effect on our deal. Not if I can help it.
One minute before 5:00, I take measured steps down the hall to Jax's office, slip inside, and stand next to the opaque inner doors that separate us.
His voice seeps through the crack in the door-a phone call? I turn to leave, to give him his privacy, but something keeps me in my spot. He's not trying to be quiet.
"Mom, it's all right. This is where-"
A pause.
"He's gone, Mom."
Another pause.
"He's not gone, he's just … unavailable. No, I don't know when he'll be back. You can't-you have to stay there. It's the safest place for you."
Several long moments.
"All right. All right. I'll be there to visit soon, but he can't come with me. I'm sorry. Yes. Chocolate. I love you, too."
I wait, standing perfectly still, for at least a minute, then knock.
A few second pass before I hear his voice. "Come in."
He remains seated as I approach his desk, his blue eyes locked on my face.
This is the moment.
I spent most of today planning out what I'm going to do, what I'm going to say. Instead of hovering in front of the desk, waiting for his instructions, I step around to the side, a few feet from his chair.
His eyes don't betray even a hint of confusion.
I lower myself to my knees on the floor and look up at him, my breaths fast and unsteady. It's like looking into the sun, but I force myself.
"Mr. Hunter," I begin, my voice clear and strong, "I've made my decision, and-"
"Stop." He holds up a hand, cutting me off.
"But I-"
"This arrangement is over, Ms. Schaffer."
My cheeks go hot as the pit of my stomach freezes.
He can't mean it.
He doesn't mean it.
I can see it on his face, the way his muscles tense around his mouth, like he's trying to keep his stony expression in place.
I'm open-mouthed, silent.
"It's a risk for you professionally … and it's not something I can continue."
"But-"
"It's over."
My knees are shaky, weak, as I rise to my feet. "But why?"
He pushes himself to standing, his fingers spread wide on the desk in front of him. "I can't continue it. Neither can you. It's over."
I bite my lip, my chin quivering in spite of the herculean effort I'm putting in to keep the tears from spilling down my face. My shoulders tighten, burning. I needed the release he was going to give me, but I craved his closeness, his touch, even more.
He says something too quietly to hear.
"What?"
"Go. Go back to work. Just go."
Chapter 23
Jax
It doesn't take fifteen minutes for me to realize that I've just fucked up royally.
What clues me in is the raw, throbbing pain that settles in my chest when Cate walks out the door, her back perfectly straight, her chin up, her breathing even. The only thing that gives away her devastation is a single tear that clings to the edge of her eyelashes. A younger version of myself would have found something cynical to say about it, something biting, something caustic-women, and all their emotions-but I feel gutted, and I shouldn't.
It was just supposed to be sex. Orgasms. Never this. Never this hook-line-and-sinker feeling that blooms outward from my gut. She wasn't supposed to have such power over me.
But she does. She does.
The look in her eyes when she walked in told me that she saw the pictures from last night. I don't know how she could have missed them. It was New York City news on one of the internet's biggest gossip sites, and those fuckers run ads on every social media feed in the nation. She had to have known, had to have seen it. It was online before Peter parked the car outside of my building.
She knew, and she came anyway.
She bent her earth-shattering legs and got down on her knees, ready to beg for another chance at our deal.
That's when I knew.
I couldn't go through with it.
The phone call with my mother had been hard enough. She had worked herself up into an uncontrollable agitation, and the nursing home staff's last resort is to get me on the phone.
I fucking hate it.
I hate hearing her voice, so confused, filled with so much pain. I hate having to explain to her that my piece of shit father can't come pick her up, won't be visiting, can't come to the phone. I've long since given up trying to explain that he's in prison, for god's sake, for stealing other people's money like a common thief. My mother doesn't remember.
Alzheimer's has ravaged her brain, chewed it up and spit it out.
It's goddamn terrible to say it, but things are better when she's not aware enough to know that she's not at home, that my father isn't with her, that I grew up and left home a decade ago.
For me, anyway. I'm not sure that things will ever be better for her.
So when I looked at Cate kneeling on the floor, all I could think was that this is wrong.
No woman who just wanted sex, just wanted my money, would do what she was doing. Not with that look in her eyes. Not after the pictures she had to have seen. Cate is nothing like Vivian. If she was, she would have thrown herself at me the moment she found out who I was.
There's something wild and sexual between us, and neither of us can deny it … but underneath it all there's a current of something deeper than that, and it pisses me off that I can't explain it. Can't control it.
What the hell is it? The way she looks? The way she's so confident in the office, but has moments of such breathtaking vulnerability? The way she never flinches when Sarzó hands down another list of things for her to do?
The way she's breaking from the pressure, but doesn't realize it?
The way she folds so fucking gracefully?
I don't know.
All I know is that I've been kidding myself. I need so much more from her than a few thirty-minute sessions. If I have to spend the rest of my life without her, I …
My mind recoils from the thought of being pinned down, trapped under the influence of a woman who might turn on me. Can I afford to be blinded by love?
What the fuck are you thinking, Hunter?
If I could scream out loud without attracting attention, I would.
Going to the window, I run my fingers through my hair and force myself to take five long, deep breaths.
Control yourself.
Think through this logically, carefully.
Set the emotions aside.
The only problem is that I can't set my emotions aside. They've embedded themselves so deep that I can't get away from them.
All I can do is hold them at arm's length.
When I do, all I can see is how real they are.
How the hold Cate has on me will never break.
Fuck.
I know it's true. I know it is. I know this a kind of raw aching love that already has its claws fixed so deep into my life that I will never get free. I am just like my mother, who loved my father so completely that even though her mind has deserted her, she still wants him. For her, he is still the charming, handsome devil she married all those years ago.
I'm out by the street before I realize I've called Peter to bring the car around. I open the door and fall heavily into the seat as soon as he pulls to a stop.
"Where to, sir?" he says over his shoulder.
I stare straight ahead.
"Drive, Peter. Just drive."
While he circles the city streets, making careful turns and doubling back, again and again, my mind turns over and over. What do I do? What do I do?
Find her. Take her. Have her.
It's the only answer that makes sense.
Energy surges through me and I snap forward, Cate's address on my lips.
"As fast as you can, Peter. As fast as you can."
The heat hangs thickly over the city while Peter does his best to navigate the Friday night traffic. Now that I've made up my mind, it seems unbearable to wait for other cars to stop and go, to make ill-advised turns, to be in my fucking way.
Finally, finally Peter pulls up into an illegal spot in front of Cate's building. I scramble out of the car, stopping only to straighten my shirt, which is wrinkled from sitting slumped in the car.
The doorman behind the desk sits up when I come in, rushing for the elevators.
"Sir? Sir."
I don't have time for this shit.