Page 65 of Power

“Scarlett, you were there for her; she’ll want to be here for you.” Blake applied butterfly bandages to my cheek.

“Tessa’s heart stopped. My sperm donor slapped me. There’s a big difference. Please. I don’t want to talk about this right now. I promise I will call her and set up a drink for later. Okay? Just not tonight.”

But Blake didn’t say anything. I was about to shift the stance of my argument when Jace stepped forward.

“Don’t tell her,” he said.

Blake shot him a look.

“She’s asking you not to tell her, so don’t,” Jace continued. “If you need a reason, you can cite those pesky HIPAA laws that’ll have your nuts in a vise if you do tell her.”

The doctor took an annoyed breath, standing up.

“Take a seat, Jace,” he said. “I’ll examine you next.”

“So, you won’t tell Tessa, right?” I touched his handiwork.

Blake took his latex gloves off with a snap and tossed them into a canister.

“Fine,” Blake agreed. “But you’d better call her soon.”

34

SCARLETT

My cheek throbbed as I opened the door to my apartment. Jace had insisted on escorting me home, inside, no less, to ensure I was safe. Police had found my dad and arrested him. I was shocked by how quickly a second restraining order was filed, this time on my behalf, but I was grateful for it all the same.

With Jace’s tie now off and his shirt unbuttoned at the top, the exposed hollow at the base of his throat drew my attention, making my fingers itch to trace the smooth skin there.

Not helping this rush of unwanted feelings, by the way.

He looked around my microscopic apartment, which was approximately the size of a postage stamp. The living room was only big enough to fit a couch, a two-seater at that, and a television, and the kitchen brandished seriously small appliances that hummed and clanked at times, like a paper clip was doing backflips in them. It wasn’t uncommon for Chicago residents to have a space management issue, but I could see the question circling in his eyes as he scanned the place. As the owner of many companies, he would know that someone in my position would have a salary that far exceeded these living arrangements.

“It’s not much,” I said. “But it’s the only one I could afford right now.”

He cocked his head, like he was beyond curious, but didn’t want to offend me by asking about my financial distress.

“I pay for my mom’s housing,” I explained.

He swiped his lower lip with his thumb, and, God help me, that was sexy as hell.

“You pay for your mother,” he repeated, making it half statement, half question.

“It’s a long story.”

“One I’d like to hear.”

I sighed, trying to process everything that had happened.

“I don’t normally tell people about this, but I guess you can pretty much piece together what’s going on after what you witnessed downstairs …” Which led me to question number one. The one that I’d been wanting to ask since the moment he showed up, the one that I sensed I wouldn’t get a real answer out of him until we were completely alone.

Why did he witness one of the most intimate moments of my life? Strange that I didn’t feel mortified by it. Somehow, in his presence, I never felt judged. Not in the car ride, not at the ER. Never.

“Why did you come here earlier?”

Jace’s eyes met mine, uncertainty flickering across his face. “I told myself it was the NDA. But the truth is, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Scarlett.” The raw honesty in his voice made my chest warm against my will.

I shook my head. “But you have to. Company policy states?—”