Chapter 221
I clear my throat, trying to shake the haze. “It’s about Sara.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “As in your ex–wife?”
“Yes. She’s out on parole.”
“Hold on,” he says. “Didn’t she get like ten years?”
“Fifteen,” I correct him. “It’s been five. She’s out.”
“Wow.” His tone shifts. “That’s… unexpected.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I say. “Why is she out?”
$
There’s the sound of typing in the background, Jerome’s fingers flying across a keyboard, most likely. “Hang on. What’s her last
name
again?”
“González.”
“Got it. Sara González. Child endangerment, vehicular manslaughter, reckless driving. Hmm.” He pauses, and I can hear him exhale. “Got out on the 11th of November. Says here: Good behavior.”
The words hit like a freight train. “What?”
“Good behavior,” he repeats, like he’s reading off a grocery list.
“That’s the biggest bullshit I’ve ever heard,” I snap, my grip tightening on the phone. “Good behavior? That’s the reason?”
“Don’t kill the messenger,” Jerome says. “Look, it’s unusual, sure. But not unheard of. Could be connections. Maybe someone pulled some strings.”
Connections. Of course. It had taken an expensive lawyer and a damn miracle to get her convicted in the first place. Her family had been out for blood back then; it shouldn’t surprise me that they’d managed to worm their way into her release.
“I need her address,” I say.
“Luke…”
“Don’t start.”
“It’s illegal to disclose that,” he says. “And before you argue, let me remind you that you’re my boss, but that doesn’t mean I’ll risk my license for you.”
I grit my teeth, frustration boiling over. “I just want to talk to her.”
“And in your heart, you might mean that,” he says. “But it’s different when you’re face to face with the person who destroyed your life. It takes one second, Luke. One second of anger, one bad decision, and boom–you’re in court. And the company? Under attack.”
“Why is everything always about the company with you?”
“Because the company is you, Lucas,” he says. “You can’t separate the two. Not in the public’s eyes.”
I want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words won’t come. He’s right, and I hate it. “Fine,” I mutter. “Just give me something. A phone number. Anything.”
There’s a pause, and I can tell he’s weighing his options. “Alright. I’ll text you her number. But listen to me–you are not permitted within fifty miles of that woman. That’s not a suggestion; it’s an order.”
The line goes dead before I can respond. A moment later, my phone buzzes with the text. I glance at the screen, then at Julie, who’s been watching me the entire time.
“I’m definitely calling my PI,” I say, more to myself than to her.
“Luke,” she says, taking the phone from my hand before I can do anything else. “I’m with your lawyer on this one. I can’t let you see her in good conscience.”
“Not you too,” I groan, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t want to hurt her. I just want to talk. She never told me why.”
Julie’s quiet for a moment. Then she says something I don’t expect. “Let me go to her.”
“What?”
“You tell me what you want to say,” she says. “And I’ll meet her.”
11:26 AM d
Chapter 221
It’s like all the oxygen’s been sucked out of the room. I stare at her, my lips parted, and I can’t decide if she’s a saint or completely insane. Probably both. The soft glow from the bedside lamp catches in her hair, making her look almost otherworldly. She sits there, calm and resolute, her hands resting in her lap like she didn’t just throw my entire world into chaos with one sentence.
“You’d do that for me?” My voice is hoarse, quieter than I mean for it to be.
She shrugs, but there’s a warmth in her eyes that makes my chest ache. “Yeah. Just find a way to get the address. I like the Luke who’s not incarcerated.”
I huff out a laugh. “So you’re saying if I’m in prison, you won’t like me?”
“Well… maybe,” she says, but there’s a teasing glint in her eye. “Prison orange isn’t your color.”
“Is that so?”
She nods, her lips curving upward just enough to make me want to kiss the smirk off her face. “Oh, absolutely.”
I don’t know what it is about her–maybe it’s the way she’s looking at me, like she’s won whatever game we’re playing, or maybe it’s the fact that she’s willing to face my demons head–on when I can barely stand to acknowledge them–but I feel myself leaning closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
I tilt my head, brushing my nose against the curve of her neck, and then I bite her. Not hard, just enough to make her gasp.
“Say it,” I murmur against her skin. My lips graze the spot I just bit. “Say you wouldn’t like me if I was in prison. I dare you.”
She throws her head back. A soft whimper escapes her lips, and I feel a surge of satisfaction that’s equal parts primal and possessive. Her something sweet and intoxicating–floods my senses, making it hard to think straight.
“Luke…”
“Say it,” I repeat, raising my head to look at her.
scent-
Her breath hitches, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me, her eyes wide and unguarded, and I can see the conflict there. It’s like she’s torn between giving in to the moment and keeping whatever walls she’s built in place for today.
“You’re impossible,” she says.
“And yet here you are.”
Her checks flush, and she mutters something under her breath that I don’t quite catch, but I don’t care. All I care about is the way she’s looking at me, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.
I take advantage of the moment, pulling her to me and capturing her lips in a kiss that’s intense and consuming. She tastes like sweet temptation, and I can’t help but deepen the kiss, my tongue dancing with hers.
It’s like the world around us fades away. All that remains is the two of us, lost in the moment, our bodies pressed against each other. The kiss grows more intense with each passing second. Her lips are soft and warm, yielding to mine as I explore their every curve.
I can feel her hands on my skin, her fingers tracing the contours of my muscles. My hands explore her body too.
I break away from the kiss to stare at her. “I don’t know, Julie. There’s something different about you. Is it just my eyes, or are you glowing?”
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