“I have no idea what to do now.” Jo had wandered back, still hugging herself.
The elevator buzzed.
“Those are my bags. One second.”
Emile brought the bags in, placing them right inside the door. He paused, his gaze sweeping to Jo. “Is there anything else you need, Kian?”
“No, thank you.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Take the night off.”
“Um…” Jo surged forward but stopped herself. Her hand covered her mouth. “Sorry.”
Emile frowned in her direction. He was wondering if he’d need to drive her home later or not.
I explained for both of them, “She can stay here, if she wants, or I can drive her home.”
His gaze snapped to mine. “Kian.”
“It’ll be fine.” I patted his shoulder again. “Go home. Go see your little granddaughter.”
My driver shook his head, giving me a rueful look. “I’m too young to have grandbabies, but—”
I finished for him, hitting the elevator button, “But you do, and I know you’ve been spending all your free time with them since we’ve been in town. It’s nice to have your family here.”
The doors slid open, and he stepped inside. “You sure I have the night off?”
A look passed between us. Emile was worried. He knew who Jo was, and he disapproved of her presence.
“Have fun tonight. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine,” I said.
“Kian—” he started.
The doors slid shut before he could say any more. I lingered there. Emile’s concern meant more to me than I’d let him know.
“He knows who I am.”
I nodded, turning around. Jo was leaning against the doorframe. One of her arms was crossed over her chest, holding on to her other arm. It was like she was shielding herself from me, but she had come to me.
That said so much.
“Kian?” The corner of her lip dipped down.
“Yes, he knows who you are.”
“And he doesn’t approve that I’m here?”
My eyebrow rose. “Anyone in your camp approve of you being here?”
Her cheeks pinked, and she looked away. “Stark is my camp.”
I raised my eyebrows.
She laughed a small little laugh. “Point taken.” It wasn’t much, but its power spread through me, warming every coldness inside me. I felt myself thawing in places that I hadn’t realized were there. That was the effect she had on me while in my presence, while in my penthouse, where I would be living for the next few weeks.
“Kian?”
She bit into the other side of her cheek. I was almost mesmerized, taking in all her little details. Every tiny gesture said so much about her. I wanted to learn all of them. I wanted to understand everything about her—why she kept herself from speaking sometimes, why she was still shielding herself from me, why she’d reached for my hand and had no clue about it.
I forced out a deep breath of air. One thing at a time. “I trust Emile. He’s been my driver since I was little.”
She frowned. “You make it sound like he was the nanny who raised you.”
“He did, in a way.” Hearing the door, I moved past her for the front entrance. I murmured, “He’s the only one who would put up with me. My nannies all hated me.”
“Why?” She laughed, turning so that she could still see me as I went through the living room.
Pausing before I moved down the hallway that went to the front entrance, I flashed her a grin. “They were hired for my father’s bedroom, so I liked to call them does.”
“Does?”
“The plural form for doe. I thought I was so smart, adding Daddy and hoe together.”
Two seconds later, she burst out laughing. I went for the door and opened it to find the food and beverages had been brought up. The manager started to push the cart all the way inside, but I stopped her because Jo had taken my hooded sweatshirt off.
“I can do that. Thank you for bringing all this up yourself.”
The manager moved back from the cart. “Oh. Of course.” She went back to the door. “Is there anything else you’d like?”
“This is fine. Thank you again.”
She lingered before leaving, glancing over her shoulder to me. If I’d been standing beside my father, I would’ve assumed she was hitting on him. I wasn’t, though, and the sexual interest was evident. My eyes flashed a warning. She needed to go. Registering it, she gave me one last professional smile before slipping through the door.
Jo was leaning against the kitchen counter when I brought the cart in. “Let me guess. She slipped you her number?”
I shook my head, lifting one of the covers to reveal a platter of vegetables and fruit. “Uh, no.”
“She was young enough to be interested.”
My eyebrows furrowed together. “I’ve learned that age doesn’t matter. Lots of older women are seduced by my family name.”
“Even though you went to prison?”
“Jordan.” I reached out and touched the bottom of her chin. I couldn’t help myself. I’d been holding off from using her given name, but as it slipped past my lips, it felt good. It felt natural.
A small cleft was there, and it became accentuated when she was worried. I remembered watching her during the entire court proceedings and noticing it.
I said softly, “Sometimes, I think the prison thing turns them on even more. They know I’m not a psychopath. I killed one man, and it was to save a girl.”
She held still, her eyes holding mine.
My gaze fell to her lips. “They’d like to delude themselves into thinking that I’d do the same for them.”
“You wouldn’t?” Her chest rose but never went back down.
I moved closer to her. “No. I did it only for one person.” I looked back up, right into her eyes. “And I’d do it again.”
Her throat constricted, swallowing. Her chest fell abruptly down and jerked back up. I was breathing heavily, too.
Her phone started going off then.
Of course. It was like clockwork.
“Sorry,” she exhaled out, raking a hand through her hair. Crossing the room for her bag, she gestured to one of the bedrooms. “I’m going to take this in here.”
I nodded and waited until she closed the door. She wasn’t the only one who needed to take a call. I went to the back patio and pulled my phone out.
The elevator buzzed.
“Those are my bags. One second.”
Emile brought the bags in, placing them right inside the door. He paused, his gaze sweeping to Jo. “Is there anything else you need, Kian?”
“No, thank you.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Take the night off.”
“Um…” Jo surged forward but stopped herself. Her hand covered her mouth. “Sorry.”
Emile frowned in her direction. He was wondering if he’d need to drive her home later or not.
I explained for both of them, “She can stay here, if she wants, or I can drive her home.”
His gaze snapped to mine. “Kian.”
“It’ll be fine.” I patted his shoulder again. “Go home. Go see your little granddaughter.”
My driver shook his head, giving me a rueful look. “I’m too young to have grandbabies, but—”
I finished for him, hitting the elevator button, “But you do, and I know you’ve been spending all your free time with them since we’ve been in town. It’s nice to have your family here.”
The doors slid open, and he stepped inside. “You sure I have the night off?”
A look passed between us. Emile was worried. He knew who Jo was, and he disapproved of her presence.
“Have fun tonight. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine,” I said.
“Kian—” he started.
The doors slid shut before he could say any more. I lingered there. Emile’s concern meant more to me than I’d let him know.
“He knows who I am.”
I nodded, turning around. Jo was leaning against the doorframe. One of her arms was crossed over her chest, holding on to her other arm. It was like she was shielding herself from me, but she had come to me.
That said so much.
“Kian?” The corner of her lip dipped down.
“Yes, he knows who you are.”
“And he doesn’t approve that I’m here?”
My eyebrow rose. “Anyone in your camp approve of you being here?”
Her cheeks pinked, and she looked away. “Stark is my camp.”
I raised my eyebrows.
She laughed a small little laugh. “Point taken.” It wasn’t much, but its power spread through me, warming every coldness inside me. I felt myself thawing in places that I hadn’t realized were there. That was the effect she had on me while in my presence, while in my penthouse, where I would be living for the next few weeks.
“Kian?”
She bit into the other side of her cheek. I was almost mesmerized, taking in all her little details. Every tiny gesture said so much about her. I wanted to learn all of them. I wanted to understand everything about her—why she kept herself from speaking sometimes, why she was still shielding herself from me, why she’d reached for my hand and had no clue about it.
I forced out a deep breath of air. One thing at a time. “I trust Emile. He’s been my driver since I was little.”
She frowned. “You make it sound like he was the nanny who raised you.”
“He did, in a way.” Hearing the door, I moved past her for the front entrance. I murmured, “He’s the only one who would put up with me. My nannies all hated me.”
“Why?” She laughed, turning so that she could still see me as I went through the living room.
Pausing before I moved down the hallway that went to the front entrance, I flashed her a grin. “They were hired for my father’s bedroom, so I liked to call them does.”
“Does?”
“The plural form for doe. I thought I was so smart, adding Daddy and hoe together.”
Two seconds later, she burst out laughing. I went for the door and opened it to find the food and beverages had been brought up. The manager started to push the cart all the way inside, but I stopped her because Jo had taken my hooded sweatshirt off.
“I can do that. Thank you for bringing all this up yourself.”
The manager moved back from the cart. “Oh. Of course.” She went back to the door. “Is there anything else you’d like?”
“This is fine. Thank you again.”
She lingered before leaving, glancing over her shoulder to me. If I’d been standing beside my father, I would’ve assumed she was hitting on him. I wasn’t, though, and the sexual interest was evident. My eyes flashed a warning. She needed to go. Registering it, she gave me one last professional smile before slipping through the door.
Jo was leaning against the kitchen counter when I brought the cart in. “Let me guess. She slipped you her number?”
I shook my head, lifting one of the covers to reveal a platter of vegetables and fruit. “Uh, no.”
“She was young enough to be interested.”
My eyebrows furrowed together. “I’ve learned that age doesn’t matter. Lots of older women are seduced by my family name.”
“Even though you went to prison?”
“Jordan.” I reached out and touched the bottom of her chin. I couldn’t help myself. I’d been holding off from using her given name, but as it slipped past my lips, it felt good. It felt natural.
A small cleft was there, and it became accentuated when she was worried. I remembered watching her during the entire court proceedings and noticing it.
I said softly, “Sometimes, I think the prison thing turns them on even more. They know I’m not a psychopath. I killed one man, and it was to save a girl.”
She held still, her eyes holding mine.
My gaze fell to her lips. “They’d like to delude themselves into thinking that I’d do the same for them.”
“You wouldn’t?” Her chest rose but never went back down.
I moved closer to her. “No. I did it only for one person.” I looked back up, right into her eyes. “And I’d do it again.”
Her throat constricted, swallowing. Her chest fell abruptly down and jerked back up. I was breathing heavily, too.
Her phone started going off then.
Of course. It was like clockwork.
“Sorry,” she exhaled out, raking a hand through her hair. Crossing the room for her bag, she gestured to one of the bedrooms. “I’m going to take this in here.”
I nodded and waited until she closed the door. She wasn’t the only one who needed to take a call. I went to the back patio and pulled my phone out.
