“But Sylvie’s all alone in that house. I know her. She’ll freak out if I’m not back soon.”
“She’s fine.”
I took in his set jaw and the determined glint in his eyes. The more time I spent with Jett, the more I realized I had found my match in him when it came to demonstrating an unhealthy amount of stubbornness. Under any other circumstances I might have given in for the sake of preserving harmony, but not when it came to my best friend’s safety.
“I need to see it for myself,” I said.
Something flickered in his green gaze. Was that annoyance? “I’d rather you stay with me at my house.”
His offer sounded tempting. His house was huge, beautifully decorated, and not too far from Alessandro’s estate. But—
I shook my head. “Not happening. I’m not leaving Sylvie alone in that old house. She’s my best friend, Jett. If someone means me harm and I’m not there, they’ll take it out on her.”
“I can send someone over,” Jett said.
Something told me he could keep this conversation up all day.
“What do you mean?” I frowned. “A bodyguard?”
“Sort of.”
I shot him an unconvinced frown. I got it. Jett had money. And lots of it. But a bodyguard—for Sylvie? How would he accomplish that without my best friend’s noticing? Sylvie wasn’t stupid. The moment she’d find out a killer might be after us, Jett might as well hire a bodyguard for himself, too, because Sylvie would end up screaming and blaming him. And when Sylvie was angry I couldn’t vouch for her sanity, or actions.
“Not working for me.” I shook my head and finished the last drop of my coffee. “I’m sorry, Jett, but…I can’t stay. You have to accept that. Now please drive me back.”
“Then let me come with you.”
I almost spilled my coffee. Okay, maybe I didn’t spill it because it was already empty, but you get my point.
“Yeah, that’s not possible either.” I grimaced, struggling with my words. How the heck was I supposed to tell him my best friend didn’t like him anymore and I didn’t want to have to face that storm?
“Why not?” Jett’s eyes narrowed on me.
Oh, for crying out loud.
“Sylvie’s—” I grimaced again “—out of sorts with you.” I peered up at him and almost flinched at the flicker of anger in his expression.
“You didn’t tell her about us.” His eyes were scrutinizing me.
“No, no…” I shook my head, then stopped. What was the point in lying when he already knew it? “Yes, maybe, a little. I didn’t think it’d make a difference.”
He frowned, but didn’t comment. My fingers wrapped around his hand in the hope he might feel my turmoil.
“You broke my heart, Jett, so naturally you’re the bad guy. She made me promise I’d move on from you and date others. So—” I shrugged and laughed nervously “—she’s thinking I’m moving on from you.”
A few moments passed during which he remained silent. I tried my hardest to read his expression, and failed.
“Okay.” Eventually, he heaved a sigh and got up, helping me to my feet.
“You’re okay with it?” I blinked back my surprise. Just like that? During the short time I worked for him, I quickly realized Jett never gave up. What he wanted, he got. And what he couldn’t have, he tried to get nonetheless. “No conditions, no requests?”
“Actually, now that you’re mentioning it, I’m taking you home on three conditions.”
“Of course.” I regarded him amused. Three conditions, huh? “What are they?”
“First, you call me when you’re there and have your phone switched on at all times. Second, I’ll send someone over to watch over you. He’ll keep to himself and you won’t even notice his presence. And there’s no arguing about this condition.” He paused and I raised my brow, choosing not to comment because he seemed quite determined and I just wanted to get home and check on Sylvie, no matter what. “Third, you’ll have to keep your visit short. So tell Sylvie whatever story you need to tell her, but you’re not staying and neither is she. Otherwise I’ll have you both picked up and I’ll use force, if need be.”
“That’s not exactly three requests but five,” I pointed out.
“It’s either you do what I say, or nothing.”
Talk about an inability to compromise.
“Brooke?” It wasn’t a question; it was a warning, magnified by the determination in his eyes and the stubborn line on his forehead. He was back to his alpha male ways, trying to protect me, or whatever his male hormones drove him to do.
“Okay,” I said, already regretting giving in so easily. “Will you drive me back?”
“Sure, baby.” He winked, back in his good mood. “Just hold on tight.”
I rolled my eyes at his choice of words. They seemed to form one of his favorite phrases.
On the drive back home Jett kept checking the rearview mirror and the more he did, the more my nervousness increased. If it weren’t for the car chase yesterday, I would’ve thought he suffered from paranoia. Jett drove slowly, maybe because he wasn’t used to the rental car he picked up in the morning. Or maybe because he didn’t want to draw any attention to us. Either way, I felt bad for his Lamborghini. Not that it meant anything to me, but because I knew how much he loved it.
“I’m sorry about your car,” I said.
“It’s not that bad. She’ll be as good as new in no time.” Jett winked amused and focused back on the road.
His car was a she?
Wow! I didn’t know whether he was laughing at me, or trying to annoy me. In the end, I decided to keep my mouth shut.
Less than half an hour later, the car stopped in front of Alessandro’s house. Turning to say goodbye was the difficult part. It always was. Leaving him, not knowing when I’d see him again, a part of me missing him already even though I hadn’t even left the car yet.
“Thank you for the date,” I said. “I’m glad I came.”
He shot me his dazzling smile and ran his hand through his hair before settling on the wheel. “I’m thankful for the second chance.”
“So am I.”
He leaned over and our lips met in a short but heated kiss. “Remember, I want you to keep the phone switched on at all times. If you find anything suspicious—no matter how minuscule or ridiculous it might seem—call me and I’ll be there.”
“Got it.” I nodded. My eyes remained glued to him, soaking him in. The words ‘call me’ triggered a memory. “Jett, did you call me two days ago, about half an hour after you dropped me off at the spa?”
His frown showed me he didn’t.
I pretended not to notice. “I thought I’d ask because the number was private.”
“I don’t hide my number.” I heard the tension in his voice, the mistrust, and the suspicion. “Did you pick up?”
“Yeah, but no one replied.” I bit my lip. He studied me for a moment.
“Maybe I speed-dialed you by accident,” he suggested. “Or maybe it was a friend.”
“Maybe.” I really wanted to believe it because it was a possibility, and yet I couldn’t. In my book coincidences didn’t really exist. “You’re probably right and it was a friend, though with the time difference, it would’ve been early morning back home and I don’t know anyone who’d be up at that hour.”
I felt stupid for bringing this up and dragging on the conversation for longer than necessary. I grabbed my handbag from the backseat, when my eyes fell on something half covered by Jett’s leather jacket and stashed in a holster. I had seen a gun before but never touched one in real life.
“Jett?” I moistened my lips, surprised at the calmness in my voice compared to the frantic beating of my heart. “What’s a gun doing in your car?”
“What gun?”
I stretched to lift his jacket when his hand grabbed mine, stopping me. “Don’t touch it.” His eyes locked with mine.
I knew. He knew that I knew. And yet he remained silent, probably preferring I had never seen it.
“What are you doing with a gun and where did you get it?” I asked slowly, my angry gaze demanding an answer.
“Brooke, you’re not safe.” He shrugged and trailed off, leaving the rest open for interpretation. “ I don’t want anything happening to you.”
Oh, sweet Lord!
“So you got a gun? Is that your answer to our problems?”
Because if it was, I had no idea how to react.
He didn’t answer straight away. “Why not? If keeping you safe involves breaking a few rules, then so be it. You don’t need to know more than that.” He moistened his lips and turned to stare out the car window.
I regarded his profile. Strangely the thought of him having a gun didn’t shock me, not after the few things he shared about his life. What outraged me was the knowledge that I wasn’t afraid.
As long as nobody got killed and Jett didn’t get into any trouble, I was fine with it.
I looked at the watch on my wrist. It was 1.15 p.m. In spite of a good night’s sleep and a nourishing breakfast, I felt lightheaded, as though I was floating in a vacuum, unable to focus on more than taking a step after another. So much had happened since I left Sylvie. The date, the proof Jett was on my side, his past, the sex, the pursuit, the discovery of his weapon, his declaration that he cared about me—which wasn’t really that of a surprise because he had said it before. But, with all the drama and emotional baggage gone, it felt different.
Real.
Yet I couldn’t tell my best friend a word about it. It was time I cleared up the misunderstanding about Jett, so I wouldn’t have to hide my blossoming relationship from Sylvie anymore. But how I was I supposed to explain everything without sounding like I had a screw loose? And—even worse—how I was I supposed to handle her reaction? Sylvie wasn’t just overprotective; her vices included the inability to forgive when she felt betrayed. I had a nagging feeling that after all the bitching we did about Jett back in New York, dating him would feel like pure betrayal to her.
Taking a deep steadying breath, I unlocked the front door and entered. The house was deadly quiet, which felt strange. Unnerving. I checked the living room and kitchen, and then walked upstairs to her bedroom, and knocked.
No answer.
“Sylvie?” I opened the door and peeked inside. Her clothes lay scattered all over the floor. Her handbag was on her unmade bed. I peered inside. Except for her phone and credit card, nothing seemed to be missing.
An ice-cold knot twisted inside my stomach. Sylvie never left the house without her makeup. Did something happen to her? If something happened, I’d never forgive myself.
I dashed down the stairs, and double-checked the obvious places—the living room, kitchen, veranda, and backyard. No one in sight.
“Sylvie?” I called as I descended the stony stairs leading toward the woods. Just as I opened my mouth to try again, I spied her on the other side of the pool. She was clad in a bikini, lounging on a chair, her fingers clasped around a cocktail glass. Where the heck did she get that one from?
