Gambling For The Virgin:A Dark Billionaire Romance(56)

Of course, life never does what you fucking expect it to do.

Worry turns into a sinking feeling in my stomach the moment I get home;  Jocelyn is leaving my father's office, looking down at the floor with an  expression that tells me there's bad fucking news coming my way. She  shuts the door behind her and heads down the corridor, not even noticing  I'm here. I reach for her, gently grabbing her arm and pulling her to  me.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong? Something happened with my father?" She stops,  dead in her tracks, but doesn't even fucking look me in the eyes. "Are  you okay?" Slowly, she raises her eyes and faces me; her pursed lips a  distant impression of her smile.

"Everything's okay, Lance," she says, ice coating each one of her words.  She takes one step back, forcing me to let go of her. "I just don't  know how to tell you."

"Tell me what?" I ask, not liking the fucking direction this conversation is taking. What the fuck is going on?

"It's over, Lance. It was good while it lasted, but … " She licks her  bottom lip, pausing while she tries to find the right words, but then  just repeats herself. "It's over."

"Over? What the hell are you talking about?" I reach for her again,  pulling her into the kitchen and slamming the fucking door behind us,  making sure that we're out of my father's earshot. We can't be over!  What is this fucking nonsense?

Looking at me, Jocelyn manages a faded smile. "We're over. It's time to  put an end to it. I know you can't, so I'm doing it for you."

I stand there like a fucking asshole, looking at her with an expression  of pure disbelief on my face. Why is she saying all these fucking  things? This doesn't seem like her.

"Why?" I ask her, the sound of my fucking voice sounding foreign to my  own ears. This can't be fucking happening. She opens her mouth to speak,  but then closes it again, almost as if she doesn't know what to say.  Running one hand through her hair, she bites down on her lower lip, and I  see her eyes starting to water. I try and reach for her, but she turns  her back to me, looking out the window. I don't even know what to  fucking say, so I just wait for her to regain her composure.

"Just go, Lance. You wanted to leave, didn't you? To go to Europe? So  go. There's nothing holding you here." She couldn't be any more fucking  wrong about that. How can she even say this when she was the one that  asked me to stay?

"I can't leave. You know that …  I can't leave you," I say, my heart  racing, and this time it isn't a pleasant fucking feeling. There's fear  in my bones, fear of what's happening right now. Fear of losing the best  fucking thing that has ever happened to me.

"Not anymore, Lance. Just face it: this was fun, but it's time we both  face the real world. You're just a kid, and I'm your stepmother. What  did you think would happen?"         

     



 

I take one step toward her, and grabbing her arm, make her turn to me.  There are fucking tears streaming down her face, and I brush the back of  my hand over her wet cheek. Just seeing her cry makes my heart fucking  tighten up, rage coursing through me. I just want to punch whomever or  whatever is making her feel like this, and the worst fucking part is  that I don't even know where to direct my rage.

"Do you want to know what I think? I think that I love you. I think that  I want to be right here, close to you." She shuts her eyes, and I feel  her close to the breaking point. Somehow, she manages to hold her own,  even though she's on the verge of sobbing. I pull her into me, putting  my arms around her and holding her tight, my hand on the back of her  head. We remain like that for a whole minute, standing in silence as I  hear her heart steadily beating against my chest. "It'll be okay," I  whisper, not knowing if I believe my own fucking words. "Whatever it is,  it'll be okay …  I love you, that's all that matters."

She remains in silence, but then two heartbeats after my words, she  pushes me away. Brushing away her tears, she looks me in the eyes, an  icy kind of determination there. I feel as if the whole world is  crashing around me and I can't do a fucking thing about it. I'm fucking  powerless.

"But I …  But I don't love you. I never did," she says, the words cutting  through me like a fucking knife. My heart tightens inside my chest, and I  feel my blood turning into ice. It can't be true …  It's just not fucking  possible. She loves me, I know it.

"You're lying …  Why are you saying these things?" I ask her, feeling as  if someone was trying to pull the ground from under my feet. This can't  be fucking happening.

"Lying? You're just a kid, Lance. I never loved you," she repeats, the  words hitting me like a brick again. If someone ran over me with a  fucking tank and then shot me in the chest I wouldn't feel half as bad  as I do right now. "You're nice to look at, and you sure know what  you're doing between the sheets …  But that's all there is to it. What do  you think I was going to do? Throw away a stable life because of a fling  with a kid?"

I stand there, my feet fucking glued to the floor as I take in her  words. I'm listening, but I do not comprehend any of it. Why the fuck is  she saying all this? And why the fuck is it getting so hard to breathe?

"Then …  why did you pretend? Why did you fake it all this time?"

"I never thought you'd actually believe all that. It was just …  a fling.  Something to keep myself busy. A fantasy. Nothing less, nothing more.  And now, it's time for it to be over."

With that, she walks past me, hitting me with her shoulder. I don't turn  as she leaves the kitchen, not even bothering to close the door. I  remain there for what seems like forever, not knowing what to do.  Everything was going so great …  And now this.

I think of going after her, but to what fucking end? She seems hell bent  on crushing what we had, and I can't force her to fucking love me.

I take two steps toward the counter and uncap one of the whisky bottles  my father keeps around. Reaching for a glass, I pour myself a hefty  dose, downing it in one single gulp. Then I pour myself another, giving  it the same fucking treatment. It doesn't take long for the alcohol to  rage through my veins, a soothing sensation taking over me.

What the fuck do I do now? I was a fucking idiot! What the fuck was I  thinking? She's right …  Whatever we had between us, it was doomed right  from the fucking start. She's my stepmother, for fuck's sake! Did I  expect my fucking father to give us his blessing? Did I expect the whole  world to fucking applaud as we broke all sorts of taboos? How could I  be so fucking naive?

But then I remember the first time I saw her, every curve in her body  calling to me, her beautiful face like a fucking mirage …  Maybe it was  wrong, but it was fucking bound to happen.

I leave the kitchen and head to my room, walking up the stairs as if I  was in a fucking daze. There, I close the door and sit on the edge of  the bed, my eyes wandering to the corner of the room: the suitcase I  thought of taking with me to Europe is still there, staring back at me  as if it were fucking mocking me.

Maybe she's right …  Maybe I should just fucking pack up, leave, and put  everything that happened behind my back. London, Paris, Berlin-all  cities brimming with beautiful women …  I can go anywhere I fucking want.

But it's not that fucking simple and, deep down, I know it. I can't wipe  my memory clean and go on about my life as if she had never crossed my  life. Because she did. She fucking did...

And now that's she gone, I'm fucking lost.





47





New York Daily Journal





From the Desk of Amanda Adams, the Professional Gossiper of Page Two.



Welcome to Page Two Gossip, here's what we're hearing around the halls of power:



Well if you ever wondered whether the stork that brings babies had any  party affiliation, we now know he may very well be a Republican. That's  all because of the rather timely press release from the Mayor's office  today that he and his wife, Jocelyn Anders, are expecting a child.

That's right, New York. Hizzoner is going to be a father.

The news of Jocelyn Anders being pregnant is expected now to burnish an  already stellar view that the city has of him as a devoted family man.  Who can resist a tiny baby wrapped up and looking cute?

It also comes with the added bonus of being impervious to any of the  attacks that Mayor Anders' rival, Jim Jenkins, has thrown at him in the  past in terms of politicizing his family just to score points with the  voters. You can bet that Michael Anders isn't going to hesitate bringing  out a pregnant Jocelyn to every ceremony and campaign stop now.

But what about the other male Anders in the family? The hot, bad boy? My  sources in the Anders campaign confirm he hasn't been seen in the last  couple of days, but here's a bit of juicy gossip for you. Deep cover  sources tell me that there was some sort of blow-up between the now  pregnant Jocelyn and Lance. Can the pregnancy of his stepmother be  vexing for the Mayor's prodigal son? Well, we don't know for sure, but  it sure looks like it. Is someone possibly getting jealous that they  won't be getting all the attention from his parents? Well, New York,  I'll tell you this; if Lance ever needs attention or thinks he's being  neglected, I'm sure there are a million women in this city who will be  more than happy to show him a good time and take care of his every need.