Page 8 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)

I step out of the car and look up at Arlington Hall as Jude takes my hand. “Is this allowed?” he asks. I give him a tired look, and he shrugs. “I’ve never done this, Amelia, so you’ve got to help me out.”

He’s never dated? Is that what we’re even doing?

I sigh, exasperated by my own questions.

If I don’t know, how the hell do I expect Jude Fuckboy Harrison to?

I’d tell him we should just go with the flow, but I know the flow would take us straight to his bed and have us naked faster than Katherine can whip out her claws.

Speaking of which, is she still gracing the rooms of Arlington Hall with her toxicity?

I frown and pull my hand from Jude’s. I don’t know how to play this, which begs the question of why I let him bring me here.

All I know is that I feel vulnerable while feeling incredibly settled, and it’s fucking with my head.

“Ouch,” Jude murmurs, stepping back, shaking his head mildly. “Doesn’t this uncertain energy between us feel wrong to you?” he asks, appearing genuinely perplexed. “Our relationship started off with a bang, Amelia.”

“But it was a lie.”

“No, baby.” He rakes both hands through his hair before coming close again, dipping to my level. “It wasn’t a lie. It was incredible.”

I wince, my gaze low.

“You’re not letting yourself be fully present.” Jude hunkers down some more, forcing me to look at him without touching me. “You want to hold my hand, so hold my hand.”

I want to do more than hold his hand, but I’m so scared I’ll lose sight of my objective. Which is what? To punish myself? Punish him? Or simply to figure out if Jude Harrison is a man I should trust with my heart before I hand it over on a plate? It’s too late.

I look up at Arlington Hall again. I want to ask about Katherine. Where she is now, what was said between them. But I also don’t want to know. I can’t stand this uncertainty, swaying between happiness that he’s back in my life and fear that I’m setting myself up for heartbreak.

Jude’s hand appears before me, and I stare at it, desperate to take it.

I was a bet. But he won the bet and still came back for me.

And he’s here now. Apologetic. Determined.

And the frightening fact is, I will never know if I can trust him if I don’t throw caution to the wind and give him the chance to prove himself.

So, on a deep breath, I take his hand and watch as he threads our fingers, squeezing.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, gently encouraging me onwards.

The lobby is quiet, and so is the Library Bar when I peek inside as we pass.

Jude leads me to his apartment and escorts me inside. “I’m going to cook,” he says as we enter the kitchen. I notice a basket of fresh vegetables on the oak island, along with a parcel wrapped in greaseproof paper and knotted with twine. Meat?

“Did you call ahead and have this arranged?”

“I was being optimistic.” He slides a wooden chopping board out from behind a toaster. “How’s your hand feeling?”

My hand is fine. It’s my heart I’m worried about. “It’s okay. I’m going to use the bathroom.”

“Help yourself.” Jude plucks a few courgettes from the basket and a knife from the stand. “I’ll be here grinding away over a meal for two, instead of grinding into you.”

“Ha. Ha.”

He quirks a brow. “I’ll do dessert too. It sounds like I’ve already exhausted my optimism for this evening.”

I roll my eyes as I walk away, heading for the bathroom. And, naturally, as I pass through his dressing room, I falter by the sliding door where I found those gorgeous green shoes. I try so hard to carry on walking. And fail.

I slide the door open, and my heart sinks when I see they’re still there. I can’t ignore this. Inhaling, I pluck the shoes out, walking back through to the kitchen and putting them on the island. Jude pauses chopping. Looks at the shoes. Peeks up at me.

“I’m just wondering how you’d feel if you found something that belongs to another man in my wardrobe.”

He sets the knife down and slowly wipes his hands on a towel. “Well, for a start, I wouldn’t rummage through your wardrobe.”

“I’m a little bit sorry.”

He huffs under his breath, resting the towel on the wood and bracing his hands there. “You’re wondering whose shoes they are.”

“Maybe.”

“Then let me enlighten you.” He circles the island and collects me, leading me back out of his apartment and down to the hotel lobby.

He stops and motions to the portrait of his mother, and I frown, looking too.

Not that I need reminding. She’s divine in her cream Chanel dress and cute blue suede kitten heels.

“Wait.” Jude pulls out his phone and starts working the screen fast, eventually turning it towards me.

And there on the screen is his mother in the same dress.

But different shoes. Emerald-green kitten heels.

“Oh God,” I whisper. “They’re your mother’s?”

“Yeah, they’re my mother’s.” He tucks his phone away.

“She was wearing them the day she stumbled upon Arlington Hall and lost one as she was wading through the brambles and overgrowth.” His face is pained, and I positively hate myself in this moment.

Jude holds his hand out, and I take it immediately, letting him walk us back to his apartment.

“We tried to find it when we started the work. I had excavators, groundsmen, everyone looking for that damn missing shoe.” He smiles across to me.

“They were her favourites. My dad brought them back from Paris for her. When she had that portrait done during the work on Arlington Hall, she was devastated she couldn’t wear the green shoes. ”

“They’re beautiful shoes,” I murmur, so disappointed in myself. “I’m sorry.”

“And that’s why my mother would love you.”

“Because we have similar taste?”

“No, because you can hold your hands up when you’ve fucked up.” He turns a sardonic smile my way. “You thought they were Katherine’s.”

I absolutely did, and I hate myself for that too, because thinking they were Katherine’s would put her in the same class bracket as Evelyn Harrison, and Katherine is miles off Jude’s mother’s league. “I’m not liking myself much at the moment.”

“Get over it. I feel like that most days.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

Oh no, he does not get to brush that statement aside. I stop him when we reach the top of the stairs and force him to face me. “What did that mean? Why don’t you like yourself most days?”

His shoulders drop. “Because I hurt you, Amelia. And I realise I don’t deserve a second chance, but by some miraculous act of God, you, you beautiful, graceful woman, have given me one.” He hooks his forearm around my waist and hauls me up his body so our eyes are level. “I won’t fuck this up.”

“This isn’t allowed.”

“Oh, sorry.” Much to my horror, and surprise, he puts me down and backs off.

What the hell is he doing? I dive at him and wrap every limb around his hard body, clinging to him, burying my face in his neck and getting a needed hit of his manly scent.

“So it’s one rule for you, another for me, is it? ” he asks, holding me under my arse.

I open my mouth and suck the flesh of his neck, bobbing up and down as he walks on. “It’s just a hug,” I whisper in his ear.

“Tell that to my dick.”

I chuckle, finding his face as he walks. “So you found the shoe.”

“A dog found the shoe.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, the farmer’s collie down the road dropped it off on the steps a few years ago.”

“That’s insane.”

“I know. Do you know what else is insane?”

“What?”

“I’ll show you.” I’m put on my feet when we reach the dressing room, and Jude slides another door open. “He found your shoes too.”

My jaw drops when I’m faced with the heels I wore last week and lost in the brambles. “Jude, that’s spooky.” I reach in and pluck them out. They’re spotless. It was raining, muddy. Did he have them cleaned up?

“Why were your shoes in the bushes outside Arlington Hall?” he asks.

“I lost them the night I ...” My lips twist, not wanting to relive that hideous scene. “The night I left.”

“I didn’t notice you were barefoot when you got in the car.”

I nearly crick my neck when I look at him. “You were there?”

“I needed to make sure you were safe. It was dark out there. Remote.”

He stood there in the rain watching me? Jesus, I was crying so hard.

“It shook me, Amelia,” he says quietly. “Seeing you like that, knowing I was responsible.” He turns into me and takes my hands, being careful of the dressing as he gently feels them. “I wanted to tell you about the stupid fucking bet. I had every intention of telling you, I just didn’t know how.”

“With words.”

“I’m not very good at talking.”

“You underestimate yourself.”

An adorable, lopsided grin adorns his face, and he nuzzles my cheek. “I underestimated you, actually.”

“This isn’t allowed.”

“Oh, sorry.” He drops me and moves back, and I grin, diving into his arms and smothering him with my mouth, kissing him deep and long, and with all the adoration I feel but can’t admit to him.

“You need to furnish me with the rules of this game,” he mumbles around our swirling tongues, “because I’m getting a bit confused with all these mixed messages.”

“Poor thing.”

“Hmm.” He carries me back to the kitchen and puts me on a stool, indulging my demand for his mouth. “Are you going to let me cook for you, or am I taking you straight to bed?”

“That’s not allowed.”

He chuckles and tears his mouth from mine, gazing at me as he braces his hands on my thighs. I pout and move in, wanting more. But he dodges my attempt to get another kiss. So I try again, scowling when he moves his head to the side to avoid my lips.

“That’s not allowed, Amelia,” he whispers, pushing off my legs and stepping back, unable to hide his smug smile.

So he wants to play that game? Fuck, I’ll lose. I already know Jude’s got some superpower that enables him to walk away from me during highly charged sexual moments.