Chapter 75

“No, sir, Nora said she skipped dinner and went straight to bed.” It feels weird listening to people talking
about me in that way. As if I’m a broken child and not really here.

“That’s all … Thank you.” He dismisses him and I slide back along the hall to my room to stand by the
door; my room is at the opposite end of the apartment to his, he won’t come here so I’m sure I’m safe. I
lean my head back against the cool surface and close my eyes. I want to wrap myself around him and
forget everything but the feel of him, close out everything else including the red head. I remember how
that feels. I need it more than I ever imagined I would; I miss his touch and even while he’s close, I feel
alone still.

“Emma?” Jake’s voice is alarmingly near. I snap up and catch sight of him standing a few feet away.

Shit.

He never ventures down here.

“Uhuh” I answer nervously, my heart pounding from the fright at being caught like this and overcome
with awkwardness.

“I came to see if you were still asleep … Why are you standing there?” There’s only normal Jake in his
voice. Jake my friend. As though the past week hasn’t happened.

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to come through or not.”

So, I’m Miss. Honesty now, am I?

I’m too drained to pretend.

“How are you feeling?” he coaxes gently, coming to stand only two feet from me. His closeness making
me antsy and we both seem uneasy. My nerves rising up, now that he is really here and appraising at



me.

“Detached,” I utter shyly; he frowns, evident even in the shadowy hall and I glance away and sigh. This
is harder than I thought it could ever be.

“You look tired … Go back to bed.”

“I’ve slept enough. I can’t sleep anymore.” I sound drained and empty; I pull my hair across my cheek
and twirl it absent-mindedly, the soft touch on my skin comforting me. Partly trying to conceal my
nervousness, now he’s here.

“I was worried about you, Miele.” He moves closer, narrows his eyes, and gently tugs my hand from my
hair, keeping his fingers wrapped around my closed fist and pulls it down between us to hold. His skin
on mine is like coming home. It breaks my heart. He has no idea that he can do this to me.

“You would have been impressed … I think I left a permanent handprint on his face.” I smirk quietly,
covering the way his touch makes me weaken, sobering my melancholy.

“How’s your hand?” he turns it over in his grasp, using his other to flatten my fingers open while he
examines it, seeing nothing there. His thumb crosses the skin of my palm lightly, achingly gentle. His
touch like a balm.

“Sore.”

He glances up at me. It does throb still. A burning reminder, yet there are no marks.

“Do you want painkillers?”

“Not that sore.” I attempt a smile and chew on my lip.

“Do you want to talk about it?” his brows narrow, a small, encouraging smile tugging his mouth.



“Not really. I just want to forget.” I let out a slow sigh and shrug it off hinting that he shouldn’t push.

“Do you want a hug?” his eyes never leave mine. I dart up, startled at his question and flush shyly; I
shrug awkwardly, amazed that he would even offer, after everything; days of being that way toward me
and yet here he is. As though nothing has happened.

He pulls me by my wrist and wraps me in his arms solidly, molding me to him. He rests his lips against
my temple as I sag into him. This feels too good, but this is what I need, this is what I’ve missed. I
snake my arms around his waist, fully enveloped in one of the best hugs I’ve ever felt in my life. I could
stay this way forever, inhaling him, his warmth around me like a security blanket. It just makes all the
anger, pain, and chaos drift away like a dream. Forgotten.

We both exhale heavily, releasing the tension fully.

“I hate fighting with you, Emma.” He croons into my hair, and the tug of tears come back.

Oh, no you don’t! No more, I’m done with all that. I’ve poured enough emotion out this week and I don’t
think I can handle anymore tonight.

I mentally shake myself to pull it together.

“I hate it too.” I nuzzle into him as he tightens around me reassuringly. Inhaling him slowly.

“How was your vacation? Even though you bailed a week early?” His voice is low and husky, it does
things to my insides and I bury my head against his chest. My hair falling over my face to conceal my
expression.

“Lonely.” I admit and he sighs again.

“You weren’t alone though.” There’s a tinge of regret and I can’t stay mad at him anymore. He’s always
had this ability to make me forgive him. No matter what. The curse of Carrero and his damn spell over



me.

“I guess … I like Leila.” I admit with a shrug, staring down at his flat stomach.

“Me too … We’ve been friends since forever … She’s probably one of my few female friends.” He
admits.

“You have lots of female friends.” I tease, finally lifting my chin to look at him properly, our eyes meet as
all the awkwardness slowly disperses and there’s just us…. Back to normal.

“No. I have dates … I have very few female friends, and no, I haven’t slept with Leila … She’s my
friend, nothing else.” He moves his forehead to mine, resting easily against me, it feels so natural.
Natural, yet agony to be this intimate again.

“You don’t sleep with your friends?” I’m surprised, considering we almost …

“No, I don’t, Leila is like a kid sister to me. She was around a lot when I was young … It wouldn’t feel
right.” He shrugs it off.

Did that mean that sleeping with me might have felt right?

I push it out of my head along with the warmth rising up my cheeks.

“She said you had a proper girlfriend, when you were young … fifteen?” I don’t know why I’m even
bringing this up … Somehow, I want to hear it from him. I want to know if he had ever loved. Despite
the warning pain in my stomach.

“Good old loose mouthed Leila! … I did …” He watches me warily and I glimpse evasive Jake. I was
right, the times I thought I imagined this, he was hiding this little piece of history from me.

Why?



“You don’t want to elaborate?” I coax gently but my heart rate has elevated.

“There’s nothing to elaborate on … I had a first love … We dated for a year, she wasn’t my first sexual
encounter, and then it was over.” He shrugs, still holding me, but loosely now.

“So, it was love though?” My ribs constrict painfully.

“I guess … maybe.” He deflects again, his hand coming up to my hair and plays with a wavy strand.
Distraction as focus which means he’s uncomfortable talking about this.

“So why didn’t it last?” I hate that I’m asking, that his evasiveness is making me question him, but
something in me needs to know. Obsessively so.

“I was sixteen … she was fifteen … do the math. Kids playing at relationships.” He slides his fingers
down the length of hair he’s playing with, rubbing its softness between his fingertips. I wonder if he’s
doing it to distract himself, or me.

“Do you still talk to her?”

Why do I even care?

I guess knowing there has been someone he loved bothers me more than it should.

“Can we not do this, Emma?” he inhales deeply, the definite peek of tension in him again. “Go to bed …
We have a busy day if you’re up to it?”

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, but he pulls me close again, hugging me tightly one more time. His arms around
my shoulders now, so my head is mostly squished with a squeeze then he relaxes. Kissing me lightly
on the top of the head, the way a sibling would or a parent. He turns me slowly then shoves me back
into my room with a playful force, catching me off guard so I stumble. Reluctance across his face,
replaced with that sudden cheeky Carrero grin.



“Hey!” I yelp and swat at his hands, instantly outraged.

“Feisty!” He grins. “Slap one shithead out, and suddenly you’re karate kid?” He laughs at me and it’s
the best noise in the world. I mock glare at him, but he just tweaks my face in a juvenile fashion and
pushes me further into my room with an easy motion, following with his head around the door, pulling it
against him to keep me trapped in here. “I’m glad you’re okay … I didn’t know what I was coming back
to … You sounded … Not like you.” There’s apprehension as he speaks but he smiles reassuringly. If
only he knew that I have been that way in his absence, on the boat, that whole time.

“I’m made of tougher stuff, Carrero.” I bow lightly.

“I never doubted that, Miss. Anderson … now go back to bed. We have work tomorrow if you’re sure
you’re okay?”

I nod with a convincing smile, but then I remember leggy red head waiting out there and it’s sobering …
He wants rid of me, so he can go play in his bedroom and left off “steam”. We’re back to old Jake once
more and our previous relationship – just like he wanted! All the happy bubbles inside of me pop and
dissipate as I realize that this is how it is always going to be.


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