My fiancée.
My fiancée…
My. Fiancée.
Maybe if I say those words once more in my head, they’ll somehow make sense. But will they really?
I can’t stop staring at Jonathan as he uses the wet napkins Moses passes him to wipe my face and my clothes.
His jaw is set and he seems angry. It’s not even directed towards me, but I somehow feel it in my bones.
“Aurora!”
“W-what?” Was he talking?
“I asked you if you’re okay.” He’s studying me intently, as if that will manage to snap me out of my daze.
It doesn’t.
Since there’s no way I’ll be able to speak, I nod.
“I need words, wild one.”
“I-I’m fine.” But am I? I don’t think so. Not after the bomb he’s just dropped out there for the entire press to hear.
“Why the fuck did you even go in there? Why didn’t you tell me first?”
Because I thought he would pull something like this. I mean, not exactly, but yeah, something similar.
I’ve read about Jonathan’s brutal ways with the media. He shows them no mercy when they overstep their boundaries or try to get their noses in his private life — or his family’s. The more he blocks them, the more they become obsessed with him, though.
He wraps a hand around my throat and pushes me so my back is pinned to the leather seat. His woodsy scent rushes into my lungs and it’s all I can breathe. His presence is all I can see. His touch is all I can feel.
I love it when he does that.
“I’m waiting for an answer,” he insists, and I know his soft phase is coming to an end. Jonathan might be protective, but he also has a no-nonsense, ruthless streak that demands to be obeyed.
“I’m done running away,” I murmur. “I have no reason to hide. I’m not him. I’m not my father.”
His lips pull at the corners in what I assume is approval. “Still, you do not go behind my fucking back ever again. If Alan didn’t have acquaintances in the office, we might not have gotten here on time. Do you know what that means, Aurora? You could’ve been attacked.”
I gulp. “It wouldn’t have been the first time.”
“Fuck.” He hits the side of the seat. “It won’t happen under my watch. Never. Is that understood?”
I believe him.
No idea why, but I believe the words coming out of his mouth as strongly as Layla believes in her religion. He is my religion.
When he showed up earlier, all I could think about was safety. It’s weird, isn’t it? That the man I call my tyrant is also my safest place.
“I said, is that fucking understood, Aurora?”
I nod.
“There will be no more putting yourself down for others, whether it’s victims’ families or what-the-fuck-ever. They’re not your victims and you will not take their shit.”
“Okay.”
“No one hurts a fucking hair on your head, Aurora. No one touches you but me. Do you hear me? I’ll burn them all down before they put you through the hell from eleven years ago again.”
“Jonathan, don’t hurt them. They’re just in pain.” I have no doubt that he’ll crush them under his shoes if he chooses to.
“How about you? Aren’t you in pain? Weren’t you in pain eleven years ago? You were sixteen, for fuck’s sake. They had no right to blame you for Maxim’s crimes, and if they continue to do so, I will show no mercy. I’ll burn them until no one is left.”
“Jonathan…”
“That’s final, Aurora. You might’ve tolerated that and gotten fucking stabbed for it, but I’ll never let it happen. I will protect you.”
My heart warms at his words, at the force behind them, because I have no doubt he’ll do as he says. But I need to get a point straight, “You don’t have to protect me. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t protect myself.”
“I’m not protecting you because you’re a woman. I’m protecting you because you’re my woman.”
Holy. Shit.
My mouth hangs open for the second time today, but this time, my heart is about to go into overdrive. Jonathan just called me his woman.
His. Woman.
That should offend me in a way, but that’s the last emotion gripping my heart.
The car comes to a stop in front of the mansion before I can say anything. Jonathan releases my throat, only so he can carry me in his arms out of the vehicle.
I grip his shoulder. “I can walk.”
“And I can carry you.”
This man is a serious tyrant.
We pass by Margot and she watches us for a second, probably because of the tomato stains on my jacket. “May I get you anything, sir?”
“Food, Margot,” Jonathan says while breezing past her. “Leave it in front of my room.”
He doesn’t wait for her reply as he ascends the stairs, not caring about the weight he’s carrying. He really doesn’t have the stamina of an old man. I can only imagine what he was like young.
Or not.
That means imagining him with Alicia, and I feel so guilty towards her right now. I feel so guilty for wanting her husband for myself. For feeling safe with him like I never have with another human being.
He’s like the fortress inside of which I know nothing will come near me, let alone hurt me.
In the room, Jonathan lowers me to my feet and peels the jacket off me, then throws it behind him. “Those fuckers.”
“Jonathan…”
“Not a word, Aurora. I won’t stand by as they do this to you.”
“No, I meant…what you said earlier. Why did you?”
“What part?”
“The part about how I’m your fiancée?”
He raises a brow. “Aren’t you?”
“W-what?”
His expression remains blank, and I hate that I can’t see past it. “You are, in a way.”
“No. We had a deal, remember? I only have a few weeks left here, then each of us will go our own way. There certainly was no fiancée clause in there.” Even as I say the words, my throat closes around the part where we’ll separate.
Jonathan watches me for a beat too long, which makes me fidget. When he finally speaks, his voice is lethal, “Is that what you think?”
“That’s what it is. It’s what we agreed on.” I don’t know why I keep emphasising the point I hate. All I want is an explanation for the whole fiancée thing and why the hell he brought it up in front of the press.
It could be a camouflage tactic recommended by his solicitor, or even Harris. No clue why I’m mentioning the forgotten agreement. Maybe I want confirmation of it, because I sure as shit am starting to forget it exists. And when I do remember it, my stomach sinks at how little time there is left.
Jonathan continues his unreadable study of my face. I hate his closed features so much right now. Of all times, he can’t seal himself from me now.
“Huh.”
That’s it? Huh. What is that supposed to mean?
I see?
I agree?
It’s nothing?
We should talk about this?
Before I can ask him just that, he points at the bathroom. “Take a bath, then eat. You have to begin preparing for your trial with Alan starting tomorrow.”
Then he turns around and strides to the exit with his usual confident steps. The door closes behind him with painful finality.
My heart falls to my feet as I watch where he stood only seconds ago. He’ll return, right? He’ll just make calls, as usual, listen to Harris’s snobbish voice, and come back.
Right?
Refusing to think of the alternative, I drag my heavy feet to the bathroom and take a shower instead of a bath. It feels wrong to take a bath without him doing it for me.
Margot brings me supper and I barely manage to take a few spoonfuls of soup. Again, it’s weird to eat without Jonathan either sitting me on his lap or staring at me across the table with that raised brow so I’ll eat.
When I’m finished, I lie in bed and read Layla’s texts to distract myself from Jonathan’s scent that’s surrounding me like a vice.
The fact that he’s not here yet causes my stomach to dip.
Layla: Mate! Guess what? Jake the piece of S turned himself in.
My eyes widen.
Aurora: Jake, as in the accountant Jake, who stole our funds and ran off to Australia?
Layla: Uh-huh. That Jake. Jessica was notified a few hours ago about how he turned himself in. He spent the funds, but at least we’ll have our justice.
Aurora: But…how?
Layla: No clue, but I heard he was coerced into it. Whoever did it, I love him.
Jonathan.
This has his fingerprints all over it. This must be what he talks about with Harris in private, not wanting me to hear.
My heart aches at that realisation. He’s been searching for Jake all this time and finally made him pay.
The need to go to him and thank him, kiss him, hug him, hits me like a ton of bricks.
Layla: Anyway, enough about that sucker. Don’t think I didn’t see the news. Since when are you engaged to Johnny?
Layla: I need details, mate. And I’m totes not jealous that you have a Daddy and I don’t. *crying emoji*
I smile, but it’s sad at best. Layla doesn’t know that I might’ve ruined this entire thing with him altogether.
After we’re done texting, I toss and turn all night in bed.
Jonathan doesn’t return.
