“Do you?”

I do—it’s tenuous and fragile, but it’s there. Otherwise I never would have had sex with her without a condom or even shown up today. If I didn’t trust her, I would have been firm about that NDA from the get-go, but I’ve let it go.

“I don’t want her.”

“I’m not worried about her, Jack.”

Then why does she look so . . . wrong?

She needs reassuring, Jack. She needs you to . . .

But . . .

No, I can’t get into feelings yet.

It’s too soon!

It’s ridiculous and insane to think I might be—

Stop. Just stop. Take it slow. Slow.

So I ignore my thoughts and do what works. I tilt her head up and kiss her long and slow. She pulls back, her hands resting on my chest, big sea-green eyes clinging to mine.

I press my forehead against hers. “Baby, don’t let her get in your head. Kiss me back, please.”

“She isn’t in my head. You are . . .” She parts her mouth to say something else but doesn’t, a long exhalation coming from her.

We stand there, and she’s thinking, and I’m anxious, not wanting this to fuck us up . . .

She seems to come to a decision and smiles softly, tangling her hands in my hair as she reaches up on her tiptoes and presses her mouth to mine.

I groan, deepening the kiss, hoping she can see how I feel about her like this, with her in my arms. I sweep her off her feet and, never taking my mouth off hers, push past the kitchen and to her bedroom.

Chapter 28

JACK

Three days later, I walk into Milano’s at three o’clock in the afternoon. The place is dead—the lunch crowd gone, the early birds not here yet. All as planned.

Bernie, the ma?tre d’, points to my usual table in the back. “Your guest is already here.”

I grimace. Of course she is.

I walk to the back and see Lawrence and my lawyer, both lingering near the bar area. I give them a nod. I need witnesses in case this thing goes haywire. Lawrence got the papers from Sophia yesterday, all signed and perfect. Is it really possible that all her bullshit is behind me?

We had a phone call where Lawrence suggested that since I have the contract, I could stand her up, but that isn’t me. I’m a man of my word, and maybe a small part of me wants to see her, to get her confirmation for myself.

She stands as she sees me, elegant and tall in a short red dress with a deep-plunging neckline. Her white-blonde hair is long and wavy, her face perfectly made up, lips curved in a slight knowing smile. A silver-chain necklace is around her neck, bolo-tie style, two perfect diamonds dangling on the ends. Classy but not ostentatious. Expensive. I should know. I bought it for her on her birthday. We broke up four months later. Bitterness pulls at me, and I inhale a deep breath.

“Jack! It’s been too long,” she says with a wide smile and attempts to give me a hug, pressing her breasts against my suit jacket. There’s a brittle gleam in her eyes, part defiance, part . . . something else.

I untangle her from me. “Please, have a seat.”

She pouts red lips as she sits. “So cold, Jack. I expected it but thought you might be at least a little happy to see me.”

My teeth grind. I must have smiled, though, because she returns it.

“I knew you’d come. Aiden was very sweet, but you . . .” She laughs, the sound tinkling. “Well, we both know this was long overdue.”

I arch a brow. Did we? I would have been happy to never see her again in my life.

She takes a sip of her white wine, thoughtful, intelligent eyes watching me. I stare back, my face carefully blank. She’s the only daughter of wealthy, doting parents; status and power rule her world. I should have seen past the pretty face to the shallow girl underneath, but she seemed genuine when I first met her. Vivacious with an outgoing personality, she filled up the empty spots when I didn’t feel like talking. People gravitated toward her, her engaging laugh, the way she smiled, and I mistook it for sincerity.

“Indeed. You got me right where you want me.”

“I signed your papers,” she breathes. “I’ll never say another word about you.”

“You did.”

“Don’t you want to know why?”

I smile grimly. “I gave up trying to figure you out when you published that book, Sophia.”

“Money, of course. Half a million for that.” She pauses, her fingers drawing circles around the wineglass. “I was angry with you, Jack. I wanted you to commit to me.” Deep-brown eyes stare up at me.

“Yeah.”

“And then I met Rodney.”

“Heard that went south.”

She shrugs. “He isn’t nearly the superstar you are, but he kept me occupied. He wants me back, you know.”

“Good to have options.”

She flicks a strand of hair over her shoulder. “He’s not you, but I think he loves me.”

“Great. Lock him down. Isn’t that what you want? Marriage to a pro athlete? Money? The lifestyle?”

Her lips purse, her eyes remorseful. “I wanted that with you, but you never let me in, Jack.”

True. She never went to my apartment. I never took her to Lucy’s house. I never shared anything too deep. And I spent a year with her. There’s something not right about that, but I push it away.

“You’ve got serious commitment issues, Jack.” She sighs, brushing her gaze over my shoulders. “I imagine it’s hard and rather sad to never have the guts to fully commit to anyone.”

Her words sting because I hear the ring of truth in them.

A long sigh raises and lowers her slender shoulders. “Anyway, I wish . . . I wish we could have worked out.”

“Then why all the lies?” I snap. “Why do you want to talk to me, Sophia? You’ve gotten your revenge with the book. I didn’t think we had anything else left to discuss.”

She takes a long drink. With a shimmer of tears gleaming in her eyes, she raises them up to mine. “Jack, how can you be so immune to what we had? I loved you.” Her throat bobs, and a tear traces down her face. Seemingly embarrassed, she flutters her hands and dips her head as she reaches for tissues in her purse.

I inhale at those words. She threw them at me several times, especially those last few months, her face always begging me to return the sentiment, but I never did. I was good to her, I gave her my time and devotion, and I never looked at anyone else. I admit I might have come to love her, maybe, someday, if she’d been the person I thought she was.

Still.

Hearing her say I loved you makes me uneasy. She said I have commitment issues, and hell, she’s right about that, and part of me knows it goes deeper than just people betraying me and using my success for their own gain. All of my feelings of insecurity can be traced right back to Mama and Harvey. Love means making yourself vulnerable; it means giving power to someone to hurt you. Who needs that?

Was my inability to truly commit and love Sophia why she hurt me? No.

She did that herself; she made the choice. She’s shallow, and when something doesn’t go her way, she figures out a way to make it work.

I clear my throat. “Lies aren’t love, Sophia. You wanted to manipulate me when you left. You thought leaving me for Rodney would spur me to action. But it didn’t. And when that wasn’t enough, you hurt me. You knew how private I was.”

I think about Elena. She’s not a liar. She’d never do this kind of thing.

Sophia shakes her head, her throat bobbing. “I regret it. My family hates all the attention it garnered. Rodney hates it.”

Surprise ripples over me.

I sit back, frowning, trying to get a read on her.

She reaches out to touch my arm, and I pull back.

“What do you want?” I ask, my voice gruff. “Closure?”

She sniffs, dabbing at her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just we were together for a year, and you’d never had a girlfriend that long. I gave up on you too soon, Jack. I should have been more patient. I had to see you to see if . . . if . . .”

“What?” I say.

She winces. “If there was any feeling left for me? If maybe we could get past this and move on, maybe see each other sometimes.”

My mouth parts. “You’re joking?”

She bites her lip. Swallows. “No. I know you haven’t been seen with anyone since me—well, except for that video of you with some girl. I . . . I just wanted to . . .” She takes a deep breath and looks at me, longing in her eyes. “Jack, I still want to be with you.”

What? Confusion takes over. Does she actually believe that it would be that easy? She shredded my trust. I take a deep breath. “If we got back together, what would you do when everyone asked why you’re back with the man who hit you?”

“I’ve thought about that. I’m willing to say it wasn’t true.”

I feel off kilter. “And you think that’s all it would take for people to just forget about it?”

She nods, leaning in, her scent wafting around me, heavy and floral with a hint of jasmine. Perfume I bought her. “I do. I can say I was upset at our breakup. I can own it, Jack. For you.”