He stopped at the back door, the only sounds following us were of the kitchen staff chopping and sautéing. The photographers were yelling at the kitchen door, but security held the door closed. Jack set me down gently, making sure my feet were firmly planted before pulling out his phone and hitting a number.
“In the alley! Now!” he growled before slamming the phone back into his jacket pocket. I kept holding onto him, my fingers clinging to the starched white fabric of his dress shirt. A car peeled into the alley and Jack opened the back door and hurried me out into the blustering winter night, carefully shielding me from the wind as we stepped to the car.
“Are you alright?” He asked once we were in the car, his voice low and gruff. I couldn’t see his face in the dimness of the car, but I could hear the anger in his voice. I nodded.
“I think so. I hurt my wrist, but, I think it will be alright,” I said as I held onto the offending wrist with my opposite hand. It had a dull ache, but nothing a couple of pain relievers and a night’s sleep wouldn’t fix.
“Let me see,” he said gently. He reached over and took my wrist in his hands. They were so warm compared to the cold outside. He squeezed gently, his fingers searching for any injury.
“You’re shaking. Carl, turn up the heat!”
“I forgot my wrap at the restaurant,” I said quietly, suddenly remembering I didn’t have it. With my free hand, I checked the earrings and necklace to make sure I still had them. I felt a small sigh of relief escape my lungs at finding the jewels still secured to my body. Jack kept running his fingers along the sensitive skin of my inner wrist, making me forget the pain. It didn’t hurt anymore, but I didn’t take my wrist back from him.
“I’ll send someone to fetch it later.” His fingers stopped but he held onto my wrist.
“What happened back there anyway?” I asked. I was finally starting to feel warm, the air blowing out of the car heater getting the winter out of the car. I couldn’t stop shaking though.
“I made a mistake.” His voice was gruff, full of anger under the surface.
“What do you mean? There’s no way you could have known those paparazzi were going to be there like that. I mean, they chase me everywhere.” I tried to put a smile into my voice, but I knew it was still shaky.
“I have eaten at that restaurant a hundred times. When I made the reservations, I didn’t even think about their security. I should have let my security check the place out, but the manager said they had sufficient security for us. I didn’t have Rachel do it because I wanted to do this myself.” He held my wrist up. “I should have let her set it up. It is my fault you got hurt.”
“Jack, it isn’t your fault that I’m a klutz and I tripped—”
“No,” he said, cutting me off. “This happened because of me. The paparazzi have been after you since the moment they found out about you. I made the reservations and didn’t get enough security. This never would have happened if I were anyone else. This could have been much worse. You got hurt because of who I am. This isn’t fair to you. I am so sorry Emma.” His words never faltered, coming out sure and smooth, but I could hear the guilt threatening to overwhelm him.
“Jack, I don’t blame you. This could have happened to anyone.”
He carefully placed my wrist back in my lap and then pulled his hands away from me, as though he were afraid he would hurt me again.
“I’m sorry I put you in this position Emma.” All I could see was his silhouette in the dark, but his voice was all business. He never used that tone with me.
“Jack, “I started but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to talk to the businessman side of him. I fell quiet as the car turned into the parking structure for the penthouse.
Jack slid out and opened the door, helping me out as I tried not to trip over the dress. He let go of my hand as soon as I was free of the car, dropping it like it burned. I stepped towards the elevators, turning to see if he was going to follow, but he climbed back into the car.
“I’m going to have Rachel increase your security detail. I don’t want this happening again.” There was a coolness to his voice that I didn’t recognize. I stepped back towards the car and tried to smile.
“Will you come up and join me for some dinner upstairs? I think I saw some soup in the kitchen,” I tried.
“No. I’m going to go back to work. I think I’ll be staying at the office again tonight.” He reached for the car door, preparing to close it.
“Oh,” I nodded. I ignored the ache growing in my chest. “If you get done early, you know where to find me.”
He nodded, avoiding eye contact as he closed the door. I stepped up onto the curb and the car turned and drove away. I couldn’t see him through the tinted glass, but I something inside of me cracked. I called the elevator and stepped in alone. What was supposed to have been a beautiful, magical, romantic evening, had turned into something sour, dark... and angry.
Chapter 17