Page 30 of Strict Confidence (Rochester Trilogy 2)
“I don’t even know if he hit Paige. The diary didn’t say.”
My throat feels swollen shut. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. It’s my fault she’s dead. I should have taken Emily out of that house. I should have claimed Paige as my own. I should have—”
“No.” There are butterflies with wings made out of razor blades in my stomach. I clutch my hands around my middle as if to hold myself together. “Don’t blame yourself for that. You didn’t know what was happening in that house.”
“She came to me, that weekend that Paige might have been conceived. She asked me to run away with her. I sensed a desperation in her, but I thought she had finally realized her mistake choosing Rhys. I thought she wanted me. I thought she wanted my money. I thought I could prove a point by fucking her and then sending her away the next morning.”
I flinch. “You didn’t know.”
“That’s the problem, Jane. I should have known.”
I’m shaking my head. “Your brother is the one responsible for his actions.”
“The only reason he pursued Emily was because I wanted her. Because of our rivalry. Any way you look at it, I’m the reason she’s dead right now.”
“Beau.”
“I’m not Beau whenever you want, sweetheart.”
“Mr. Rochester. It wasn’t your fault.”
“One woman is dead because of me. You might be next.” He moves as if to touch me, and I flinch back. I can’t let him touch me again. It will feel too good. It will always feel too good, except when I face reality. That’s when it hurts. “I’m a monster who destroys everything I touch. And you and I both know I touched you. Thoroughly.”
“Stop trying to scare me.”
“Is it working?”
“No, God help me. I trust you anyway.”
“Jesus Christ. When you are going to see? I’m the boss. You’re the nanny. We’re fucking because it’s easy. It’s convenient. Like eating leftovers because they’re in the fridge.”
I flinch. “No. You don’t mean that.”
His face goes dark and cold, almost the way he looked when I first met him. “You thought we were going to be a couple? That we were going to get married?”
“No, but I thought we cared about each other.”
“You don’t give a fuck how I feel about you when I have my thumb against your clit.”
A slightly manic laugh escapes me. “That’s true enough. I would have thought I was a strong person. A principled person. And I am, except when you touch me. Then I become someone I don’t even recognize.”
“Is it so fucking wrong, then? Having sex?”
“It is when I’m locked in for a year. I can’t leave, but you can fire me anytime. You told me that, remember? You can fire me anytime you want if I don’t do a good enough job.”
“You think I’ll fire you if you don’t suck my cock?”
I look down. “Why can’t it be more? Why can’t it be a relationship?”
His eyes have always been unnaturally opaque. Now they look as hard as granite. “Is that what you want? A public declaration? Maybe a little article in the tabloids?”
“I don’t give a shit about the tabloids.”
“What about the money?”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Everyone wants my money. That’s the one true constant.” When I make a sound of dissent, he snorts. “Even you. Do you want me to pay you the full amount right now?”
I press my lips together. Of course I do. Except there’s no right answer here.
Everything is wrong, wrong, wrong.
“You aren’t taking care of Paige out of the goodness of your heart. This is a transaction. It has always been a transaction. So don’t bullshit a bullshitter. I see right through you.”
Tears prick my eyes. Maybe he can see right through me. I feel like I’m made of tissue paper that’s gotten wet with sea spray. I’m going to tear in half. He will see everything I’m afraid of—being left alone, having no family, going hungry. All of my fears exposed for him to ridicule. “Beau, I do care about you.”
“Which one is it, sweetheart? Am I Beau or Mr. Rochester? Are you going to get down on your knees or are you going to spread your legs? Either way I’m getting what I want.”
Pain lances through me. “Stop.”
“No, you were right. I should be asking these questions. What are we doing together? As a nanny you’re doing a great job, but as a fuck partner, well, let’s just say I’m used to a little more excitement. So which one are you getting paid to do?”
Water and salt. I don’t know whether it’s the ocean or my tears. I lick my trembling lips. “We can’t have sex again. I can’t feel this way again.”
A cold smile. “That answers my question.”
“Beau—”
“What if I were to terminate our contract?”
“No.”
“The irony is that it would be for your own good. Mateo warned me. He even warned you, not that it did anything. You thought you could make me fall in love with you.”
