Burn (Breathless #3)

That wasn’t going to be him. It would never be him. And now, if he had anything to say about it, neither would it be Brittany.

It remained to be seen if she’d really have the fortitude to make a clean break and slip out from under the control of their parents. But he was more than happy to help her if that was truly her goal. She was young and beautiful. She was smart even if she’d made some spectacularly bad choices. She had more than enough time to turn it around and get her life on the right path.

Everyone made mistakes, and everyone deserved the chance to make up for them. He just hoped to hell Brittany would turn it around now and get her head on straight.

He opened his drawer to look at the box of jewelry he’d hastily shoved inside when Eleanor had buzzed him about Brittany’s arrival. He brushed one finger over the edge as he thoughtfully stared down at it.

Brittany was squared away, and now it was time to focus on his primary preoccupation.

Josie.





chapter five





“What do you mean you sold them already?” Josie asked, her voice rising as she stared at the pawnbroker she’d visited several days earlier to sell her mother’s jewelry.

He surveyed her calmly. “I sold them. Had a customer who liked the stuff.”

Josie twisted her hands in agitation. “Can you give me an address? A name? Phone number, anything? I’d like to buy it back.”

“You had the option to pawn it, Miss Carlysle,” the man said patiently. “I specifically asked if you preferred a loan with the option of getting your items back.”

“But the loan wouldn’t have been enough,” she argued. “I needed the money then. I couldn’t wait. But it’s different now. I have the money and I have to get my mother’s jewelry back! It’s all I have left from her. It was my grandmother’s. Oh God, I can’t believe you sold it so quickly.”

The man shot her a look of sympathy but remained silent. Josie was sure he thought he was dealing with a crazy woman.

“Can you give me the information of the person you sold it to?” she asked again in desperation.

“I think you know I can’t do that,” the man said.

She wiped a hand over her face in agitation. If only she’d waited another day. But how on earth could she have predicted that someone would walk into the art gallery and fall in love with her work—all if it—and buy it for more than the dealer was asking for? It was all so crazy. Not that she wasn’t extremely grateful for her good fortune, but if only she’d waited one more day she wouldn’t have pawned her mother’s jewelry and she wouldn’t be standing in a pawnshop desperate to get it back.

“Will you at least contact the person for me and give them my phone number? You could ask them to call me. Tell them I’ll pay double what they paid for it. I have to get it back.”

He sighed and then shoved a piece of paper with a pen across the counter toward her. “I can’t promise anything, but write down your info and I’ll pass it along. I don’t normally do this kind of thing. Once it’s sold, it’s out of my hands. You relinquished any claim when you sold the jewelry to me.”

“I know, I know,” Josie said as she hurriedly jotted down her name and number. “I’m not saying it’s your fault or that you’re to blame. I have only myself to blame for acting so rashly. But I’d really appreciate it if you could just give the person a call and let them know how desperate I am to get the pieces back.”

He shrugged as she shoved the paper back to him. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

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