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brIDGET

I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in my room daydreaming about Jaxon.

I could still feel the heat of his hands on my skin, the urgency of his kisses on my mouth and body, the thickness of his cock between my legs.

I'd been staying in my room a lot lately, but a growling stomach sent me out the door of my little sanctuary and down to the kitchen.

I froze halfway down the stairs when I heard Alex's deep, taut tone coming from Dad's office.

I hurried to the kitchen to grab a few snacks.

I planned to head down to the marina and sit on the boat and watch the sunset.

Constantly sneaking around my own house would have been comical if it weren't so damn tragic.

For a few years, I went along with the whole plan, the notion of marrying Alex and taking my proper place in my dad's society, but now I wanted nothing more than to be away from all of it.

Jaxon had done that. I realized how happy I could be no longer surrounded by wealth and privilege and people who only cared about those two things.

I stuffed some cheese and mayo between two slices of bread, wrapped the sloppy sandwich in a linen napkin and yanked a cold iced tea from the fridge.

My heart raced the entire time I made the sandwich.

It made me pause to wonder how my life had taken such a drastic turn—suddenly making a sandwich had to be a clandestine activity.

I raced to the front door and was sure I'd made a clean getaway, but as I ran across the yard, Alex called my name from the front steps.

I ignored him and hurried to the pedestrian gate, the gate where just hours before Jaxon and I had kissed for a good five minutes before we could tear away from each other.

The gate snapped shut behind me, and I ran toward the marina with my pathetic picnic dinner.

A glowing sun was just starting to drop down toward the horizon.

The ocean was agitated from an offshore breeze, and the resulting ripples glittered gold in the late afternoon light.

The ripples also caused the yacht to bob up and down in its slip.

I climbed on board and walked straight up to the helm.

I sat in the swiveling captain's chair and slumped down in an effort to hide.

The sandwich was simple and, after the long walk to the marina, warm and mushy, but it tasted good.

I washed it down with the tea. A text came through, and my newly filled stomach tightened.

I expected a nasty message from Alex, some curt lecture about ignoring him, but it was from Jaxon.

I laughed out loud about my physical reaction at seeing his name on the screen.

"I can't stop thinking about you." It was short and to the point, and it sent a shiver of excitement through me.

For the first time in my life, I was falling in love.

I was starting to understand the "head-over-heels" phrase.

It had been a few years since I'd hopped and flown across the gymnastics mat, but thinking about Jaxon made me want to run and do a front flip.

I dialed his number, and he picked up on one ring. "I can still feel you touching me," I said.

He sucked in a deep breath. "Shit, there I am again. Hard as fucking steel. I've got to see you tonight."

"Let me see if I can escape the castle and the ogre tonight. No promises." I added.

"Or I could just show up, carry you away and tell the ogre to fuck off."

"As much as I have dreamed about that exact scenario, let's try it my way first. Boring and staid, I know, but in the end, we could still end up very naked."

"Not sure if I have the patience for boring and staid, and I don't even fucking know what staid means, but I don't like the sound of it. Find an escape route, darlin'. Just let me know when and where to pick you up."

"You drive a hard bargain, Jaxon Stone. I'll talk to you later." I pushed the phone into my pocket just as footsteps landed on the deck.

I ducked down but then realized it was futile.

"Bridget? I figured you came down here to the marina." Alex had on an obnoxiously green Polo shirt and white shorts. He worked hard to always look as if he was just walking off the set of a Ralph Lauren commercial. I'd really grown to hate the pampered, rich boy look.

I stood from the captain's chair. His eyes swept up to the helm. "There you are. We need to talk."

"No, we don't." Before I could get down the stairs to the deck, he climbed onto them to come up.

"Bridget, stop being so fucking unreasonable.

This marriage will be good for both of us even if we never sleep in the same bed again.

" He stood in the way of the steps, effectively blocking me from getting down to the deck and off the boat.

"And we've been talking. We need to get married fast. Possibly this weekend.

We can have your big, expensive wedding later in the year, but we should get this wrapped up legally soon. "

I stared at him in disbelief. "Oh 'we've' been talking, have 'we'? I wasn't any part of that crazy conversation. Who is 'we'?"

Alex pulled his gaze away rather coyly. "Your dad and mine … and me. Look, there's some things going on that you don't know about and—well—all you need to know is that we need to get married this weekend. It'll be better for all of us."

"Except me. It'll be a lot worse for me because I'm not marrying you … ever. I don't care if after the ceremony we both drive off to different sides of the country, never to see each other again, I'm still not tying myself to you in any capacity whatsoever."

"You stupid spoiled brat." His face reddened. "You don't understand." He grabbed for my hand and I tried to squeeze past him. He snatched hold of my arm and held it tightly in his grip. I stared down at the red marks his fingers were making on my skin.

"Let go. You're hurting me."

He pushed his face close to mine. "We will get married this weekend, and if this has anything to do with that tatted up asshole, then know this—he's going down. His whole fucking family is going down."

I swung my hand to slap him, but he blocked it.

He gripped my arm even harder then let go with a push.

My sandal slipped off the landing. I flailed my arms toward Alex, but he made no attempt to stop my fall.

My cheek hit the hand railing, knocking me momentarily senseless as my right leg collapsed.

My body fell forward down the metal steps.

I threw my hands out and managed to flip myself up and over, landing on my feet on the bottom step.

Aside from a deep cut on my right knee and the throbbing ache on my cheek, I managed to avoid any real injuries.

Alex's shadow fell over me. "Still the great gymnast," he said snidely. "I'll get you ice for that cheek."

"Don't fucking bother!"

I straightened myself up and got off the boat as fast as I could.

I felt shaky and unsteady as I hurried along the uneven planks of the dock.

Boats became a shiny, lacquered blur as I raced along, my eyes filled with tears as salty as the ocean breeze.

I reached up and winced when my fingers landed on the tender bump forming on my cheek.

Warm blood dripped down my shin in thin rivers.

The fall on solid metal steps could have been so much worse if I hadn't thrown out my hands to stop my body from hitting each step.

Things had taken a turn for the worse, which stunned and sickened me because shit was already bad.

I had no idea what the new push was for an immediate marriage.

I'd been avoiding picking a date because I knew I wanted out of the whole engagement.

Alex hadn't pushed too much until recently, but moving the marriage up to this weekend meant something was up, something that had to do with business and money—their only motive.

I considered returning home to the security of my bedroom for all of a second.

I was sure if I told Dad that I fell down the steps on the boat and that Alex had a chance to grab me but didn't, he'd only tell me that I was being dramatic or exaggerating.

He'd never consider siding with his daughter and sending Alex on his way.

That would never even cross his mind. All I was to him was a constant source of irritation and trouble.

For the longest time, I'd believed that I was just that—a constant source of irritation and trouble, but I'd finally come to realize that my dad was a monster, and my rebellious behavior was a natural response to his terrible parenting.

I wanted nothing more than to be free of him and his ill-gotten gains forever.

It was at least four miles to Trayton, and I had no money for a bus. I reached for my phone, but when I pulled it out, I saw that the battery was dead. Useless. I stuck it back into my pocket. I had no choice but to walk.

The cut on my knee tried to clot, but each step broke it wide open. It kept bleeding because of the walk but I kept moving. I needed only one type of first aid. I needed Jaxon's strong arms around me.

What had started as a pink, dusky sky turned into a churning gray one about two miles into the walk. The breeze that had cooled my skin earlier morphed into a roaring, icy gale. It was exactly what I didn't need as I struggled along in my thin tank top and shorts.

The wind was bad. I doubled over and crossed my arms around myself to try and stay warm.

I was still at least a mile from Trayton and the Shack when the first cold drop fell.

Weather along the coast was always unpredictable, but this storm came out of nowhere and it was bad.

Lightning lit up the dark gray sky. The sea churned as if it might billow up and swallow the entire coast, and rain fell from the clouds in icy sheets.