Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“You’re playing by yourself?” I said, pushing down a smile.
He glanced up. “Do you play?”
“Yes, but very badly.
“Perfect, take a seat. My ego needs a boost.”
“I highly doubt that,” I replied, sitting in the armchair on the other side of his desk while he rearranged the chess pieces.
“I don’t know what else to say except I’m sorry. He’s always been possessive, but he’s never crossed the line that before.” Yannick large soulful eyes held steady. “He’s been under an extraordinary amount of stress lately.” I diverted my gaze, too embarrassed by what I heard coming out of my mouth. A bad excuse.
“Has he ever laid a hand on you.”
My eyes snapped to his. My expression of surprise switched to a defensive one almost instantly. “Never, never, he’s not like that. He’s…he’s emotional, yes…but he’s more likely to hurt himself,” I vehemently argued.
“I had to ask,” Yannick replied in the same low, butter soft voice he used to comfort patients. That said more to me than his words.
“I have to look for an apartment tomorrow.” The weight of his perceptive eyes was on me again while mine remained on the board. Yannick being Yannick, he didn’t ask any more questions.
“There’s a studio apartment on the top floor. I keep it for late nights and such. Move in there. It’s clean. I just had the bathroom and kitchen remodeled.”
“No. I couldn’t impose.” Any further objections were stalled by his words.
“You can and you will. I’m not discussing this further.” We drifted into silence for a while.
“Yannick, can I ask you something?”
“I don’t think I can stop you.”
“How did you raise the money to build this clinic? The machines are almost brand new.”
“I’m obscenely wealthy,” he deadpanned.
I glanced up to examine his face. “Are you joking? I can never tell with you.”
His intense gaze remained on the board. “I never joke about money. My grandfather owns a well known chain of furniture stores. I’m his favorite.”
“So modest,” I mocked, chuckling.
His eyes slammed into mine. “What has modesty ever done for anyone other than get them a place at the back of the line? The man who thinks like a pauper will never be king.”
That quelled my amusement instantly. I considered what he said and couldn’t find fault in it. In my heart, it rang true. “Who said that?”
“I did.” I studied the fascinating man sitting across from me. Dedicated, driven…a force of nature. If I didn’t know him personally, I would think he was too good to be true, a fictional hero in a romance novel.
“You know, Yannick, if you were just a fraction sweeter you’d be the catch of the century.”
He looked up then, his dark eyes bright and mischievous, his sensual lips curving up wryly. “Who says I want to be caught?”
“The harder you fight it, the harder you’ll fall,” I teased.
After a beat, his expression sobered, “Like you did?”
It was pointless to dissemble, Yannick had an instinct for people that was unrivaled––Maria Rossetti had been right about that. “Exactly.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Autumn happened all at once. Almost overnight leaves turned from bright green to deep orange. A crisp bite in the air. The smell of burning wood.
I received a text from Alek the subsequent day. We were so busy at the clinic, I managed to ignore it for an entire morning. The IPhone I carried in the pocket of my medical coat was suddenly ten pounds heavier, a physical reminder of what had to be dealt with sooner or later. By late afternoon, it might as well have been blasting cannon fire.
Part of me wanted to know what happened all those years ago. I’d berated myself for so long for having had bad judgment when it came to men that it was a relief to consider that I may have been right all along, that Alek was the person I thought he was when I fell in love with him. Reason said there was no harm in getting the whole truth. My instincts, however, told me to focus ahead, to put the past to rest. Caught between my past and my present, it felt like I was being stretched on a medieval rack.
I walked into the restroom and paced nervously. This was a man I’d known most of my life, had been intimate with. Rationally, I should’ve been able to meet with him, let him say his peace and, with a clear conscience on both our parts, walk away. But something told me it wasn’t going to be that simple. That there were land mines on the road up ahead…and I couldn’t shake the feeling.
I splashed cold water on my face and reluctantly pulled the phone out.
I really need to see you. Give me the opportunity to explain. I know you’ve moved on and I don’t blame you, but give me the opportunity to do the same. Give me closure and let me go.