Our gazes are locked when I hear Alexander’s voice—calm, eerily so—call me, “Firefly.”
Not a question. Not a demand. One word used as ammo against Jason. One word that clearly articulates his love for me.
Cruise yells, “What are you doing, Koster? Stop it. She’s King’s woman.”
Taking a step back, I blink, still surprised by Jason and his actions. He watches me, yet I see no remorse. I take another step, backing away before turning and tucking myself into Alexander’s side. Wrapping his arms tightly around me, he says, “I’m taking you to the manor. I’ll deal with him later.”
While wiping the side of his mouth onto his T-shirt, we head for the door. Once it’s opened, I can’t stop myself. I look back. Cruise is griping at Jason. I can’t hear what Cruise is saying, but I do see the smirk on Jason’s face.
What the hell is he doing? Does he have a death wish?
The door closes, and I snuggle closer to Alexander as we leave, not sure if he needs it more or I do.
What the hell just happened?
17
Sara Jane
Walking out to the terrace, I see April sitting in a chair overlooking the gardens. I’m not in the mood to chat, but she sees me before I have a chance to go inside. “Join me. It’s a lovely day.”
I look toward the manor’s gardens, trying to spot the lake. I smile when I see it, the memories made in innocence, something that seems so distant now. “It is. Blue skies.”
“It might rain.”
Glancing up, there’s not a cloud in the sky. Odd she would say that. I sit across the table from her, still unsure of her presence here and my place as Alexander’s fake wife.
“I get so tired in the late afternoon.”
“I’ve always loved a good nap.”
“How have you been sleeping?”
I slept well last night at the penthouse, but I’m not sure passing out counts. “Not too bad. I’m frustrated staying in bed all the time. I wish it wasn’t the middle of the semester. I’d be more than happy to return to my classes.”
“You’ve made good progress. Most people would still be in bed at least another week, if not two. Not you. You’re up and about.” She spins her mug around by the handle. “I heard you left the manor yesterday. All by yourself. Do you think that was wise?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“If you could, you wouldn’t need Alexander’s charity.” She sips her coffee while my mouth hangs open, stunned.
“Is that what you think I am to him?” I stand, almost laughing by how wrong she is. “A charity case?”
“I’m not sure what you are to him—a fixation or someone he thinks he can save.”
Pressing my palms against the cold metal of the heavy iron chairs, I endeavor to maintain a fa?ade of strength while trying to ease the stabbing pain. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not a passing fancy or a teenage crush he never got over. I’m the woman he will do anything to be with, the one who holds his heart and his love completely.”
“He’s one of the most powerful men in the country, maybe the world now. He needs—”
“Don’t tell me what he needs. You don’t know Alexander like I do. You barely know him at all.”
She flinches under the insult, but recovers quickly. “He’s changing. I watched him while you were gone. He’s a man now, not a boy. What you have is—I don’t know what it is, but he deserves something more than a childish fascination.”
“You don’t understand what we are because you’ve never had what we have. I suggest you mind your business, whatever business it is you think you have here.”
“Are you threatening me, Sara Jane?”
“I don’t have to threaten you. I’m not walking a precarious tightrope between his past life and the present.” I turn to leave, but stop to add, “As for the latter, is he saving me or am I saving him?” I go back inside. So much for fresh air. Thirsty, I make my way to the kitchen where I find Neely.
She smiles. “Sara Jane,” she says in a warning tone, though from her it’s from a place of true concern, “why are you out of bed?”
“I can’t take lying around all day. I’m starting to lose my mind in that room.”
“I can bring you anything you require.”
“Require. I really don’t like that word.” It’s one that Alexander Kingwood III used liberally when it came to his demands.
She laughs. “Does anything you want or need sound better?”
“I think it’s more the premise. I don’t want you waiting on me.”
Her eyebrows push so high that lines define themselves across her forehead. “It’s my job. I like my job and would like to keep it.” Her smile reassures me.
“I’m a bad patient and a bad houseguest. Batting two for two.”
“Let’s change that average. You must have come in here for something—drink? Food?”
My stomach growls, and I smile this time. “My body’s a traitor these days.”
“Ha. Let’s make you something. It will be my pleasure.”
April’s insinuation that I’m not enough for Alexander bothers me. What does she know anyway? Nothing. Nothing about me, and even less about Alexander. I sit at the bar and trace a black line that swirls through the expensive natural stone surface.
A glass of orange juice is set in front of me. “You seem to have a lot on your mind.” Leaning down, Neely rests her head on her hand, like me.
Neely’s young, not quite forty. No ring on her finger. Pretty, with her dark hair and deep-chestnut eyes. I put on a smile again for her. She doesn’t deserve to have her day burdened with my problems. “How long have you worked here?”
“Too long. Over twelve years now.”
“Twelve years. Neely, why have you stayed?”
“Where do I have to go?”
“Surely you could have found another job, rather than staying here.”
“Your Alexander was here, Sara Jane. I couldn’t leave him. I wouldn’t leave him alone.”
She sets a plate down with two homemade blueberry muffins on top, and then I see that Alexander did have an ally here. I’m glad, and while looking into her kind eyes, I think I just might as well.
*
I’m awoken with kisses down the length of my arm, ending on the top of my hand. I open my eyes lazily, enjoying the feel of Alexander consumed by me. “Climb in bed with me.”
He doesn’t hesitate. I reach behind me as he curls to my backside. “You’re naked. Were you waiting for an invitation?”
My shoulder is kissed, his tongue and lips trailing up my neck as his hand takes hold of my hip. He doesn’t touch the bandaged area. He’s always so careful with me, as if I’ll break. I’m sturdier than he realizes. While one hand gets a handful of my right breast, he says, “I will never get enough of you, Firefly.”
“I hope you’re always as needy for me as I am for you.”
“More. I’m always more, my queen.”
The endearment triggers flashbacks of being in the car on the way to the hospital. “You were born to be queen. My queen, baby. Stay with me.”
“I can’t make that promise . . . but the ride was good. We were good. So good.”
I squeeze my eyelids, hoping to rid myself of the memory, not wanting to relive my death.