Page 18 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)

He’ll be in touch. Is that like date code for I’ll call you ?

I look back over my shoulder to the restaurant doors, wanting to go in there and upend Jude’s table.

I can feel that crazy part of me I never knew existed until I met Jude Harrison rising, my blood boiling. I ended it. I have no power here.

Power?

What the hell am I thinking?

I quickly pick up my feet and head for the Tube station before I let them take me back into the restaurant and rain holy hell on Jude.

But I only make it precisely five steps before I stop and turn, yelling at myself not to go back but unable to stop my legs from taking me there.

No, Amelia! I keep walking, feeling out of control in every way. Stop, Amelia. Go to the Tube!

I swing the door to the restaurant open and run straight into a chest, bouncing back.

The moment I take a breath, I know it’s Jude. I can smell him. I find his eyes and see the beast inside. “You are not going home with that man,” he seethes, looking past me for said man.

“And you are not going home with that woman!”

“I don’t want to!”

“Then what the hell are you doing on a date?”

“What the hell are you doing on a date?”

“He’s a client! And he’s twice my fucking age, Jude!”

He recoils. “A client?”

“I don’t play stupid fucking games like you do.” I shove him in his chest. “Who the hell is she?”

“It’s Rhys’s publicist.”

“What?”

“It’s Rhys’s fucking publicist, Amelia. I’m firing her.”

“Well, I suggest you communicate a bit better because she appears to think you want to fuck her.”

“Fuck!” he yells, raking a hand through his hair and swinging around.

Then he grabs my arm and walks me out onto the street and up the road a little to a quieter spot.

Easing me up against a wall, he comes close.

“It’s all about you, Amelia,” he says quietly.

“I can’t control Katherine or her gob, but I can make sure you know that she means nothing to me. ”

“But she did once,” I whisper, hearing the need in me and hating it.

Moving in even closer, he crowds me. “It pales compared to how I feel about you.”

I look away, and he curses, grabbing my face and making me look at him. His eyes scan mine. His are questioning. Mine are tearful. I’m so fucking confused. So tired of arguing and making up again.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” I whisper, my voice broken. “And now I’m caught up in this whirlwind of euphoria and drama and I’m questioning everything.”

“Questioning what?”

“Everything. You, us, what’s happening, whether I should let it happen.”

Jude flinches, my words wounding him, and then he steps away, putting space I didn’t ask for between us. It doesn’t help my unease. But when he clenches his temples with his hands and his expression turns pained, I’m no longer uneasy. I’m scared. What the hell is he going to tell me now?

Instinct has me turning and walking away from him, unable to sustain another blow. Another one of Jude’s truths.

“I’m in love with you,” he says gently, almost with regret.

I stop dead in my tracks, the words hitting me like a wrecking ball to my chest. So hard. Could they destroy me? I bite down on my lip, shaken, staring forward, a bit dazed. My head is a riot of confliction. I don’t want to turn around. Am scared to look at him.

“I love you, Amelia.”

I breathe out a rush of air I hadn’t realised I was holding.

“I’ve been trying to tell you.”

I slowly turn on the spot, struggling to hold back more tears.

He sighs, heavy and tired, and moves to a nearby bench, resting his arse down, his upper body curling over his thighs, his elbows on his knees.

He puts his face in his hands. Hiding. He’s said that, and now he’s hiding?

I need him to hold me. Tell me everything will be okay. That my heart is safe.

“I know it’s happened fast,” he continues.

“I know it’s intense and crazy and a lot to take in, but it’s also really fucking brilliant, Amelia.

” Glancing up at my stunned form, he smiles a little, but it falls when he sees the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“You don’t believe me,” he says, his voice as broken as I feel in this moment.

And isn’t that a worry in itself? That I feel broken?

Isn’t love supposed to heal? “Fuck, you don’t believe me.

” He stands abruptly and drags a hand through his hair.

Then a sense of urgency seems to come over him and he rushes to me, taking my wet cheeks in his palms. “I love you,” he says, kissing my forehead.

“I love you.” Then my nose. “I love you.” And my lips.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Pulling away, he gives me his eyes, and I can’t mistake the sincerity in them.

I can’t believe a man would be as cruel as to say that, look like this, and not mean it.

“Are you hearing what I’m saying to you? ”

Yes, I’m hearing, and it’s terrifying. “This isn’t very slowly,” I murmur like an idiot, and he smiles.

“I will do life slowly with you, baby. Make love to you slowly and softly. Stroke your back slowly and softly while you drift off to sleep, lick champagne off your body slowly. But my love is fast and hard, and it’s fucking unstoppable, and I’m praying you accept it, because without you I am just a lonely man with a lot of money and no substance. ”

My heart doesn’t crack. It melts. “You don’t always have to make love softly and slowly.”

Jude’s eyes shine so brightly, and he hauls me into his chest, his arm hooked around my neck holding me tightly to him. I close my eyes and hear his heart beating. “I love you too,” I whisper, diving in deep. The deepest. I lift my arms to his wide back and cling to him, feeling his torso deflate.

“Say it louder,” he demands, removing me from his chest and pushing my hair back so he can see the whole of my surely red and blotchy face. “And to my face.”

I don’t hesitate. “I love you.”

His smile is small but stunning. “Thank you.” He slowly lowers to his knees on the hard concrete. “I’m in love with you, Amelia Gracie Lazenby. I’m tired of all this ambiguity between us.”

“Me too.”

“So it’s official.”

“Our love?”

“And that I now have myself a girlfriend.”

I laugh over a strained sob, and he flashes an adorable, lopsided grin. “Jude—”

“Don’t you dare put an obstacle in my way.”

“I’m not. It’s just, you’ve not even met my parents.”

“Well, that’s not true.” He stands again. “I’ve met your mother.”

It’s not my mother I’m worried about. “You hardly know the girls, and they’re not exactly your biggest fans.”

“I’ll fix that. We’ll do dinner with your friends. And meet your parents.”

Christ. That fills me with all kinds of dread. “Let’s start with my friends.” I feel a lot less anxious about that.

“Anything else?” he asks.

I shake my head, because there is nothing else. I’m going with this. We can work through the rest. I trust him. The fighting and making up are part of who we are, because our feelings are so strong.

“Good.” He swoops in and kisses me slowly and softly. The impact, though? It hits me as fast and hard as it always does, and I breathe easy for the first time since I walked away from him last night.

“I’m staying the night,” I mumble around his lips.

And he smiles.