Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

He turned to Cleo, letting all his vulnerability and longing show in his face.“I’m sorry you found that letter, and that it hurt you. But you need to listen to me, and really pay attention. I’m not a liar. I’m not a player. And, while I’ll always love Annette, I’ve come to a place of peace regarding her death. I am ready to move on with my life now, and you’re the one I want to move on with.”

He held his breath, trying to keep his heart, which threatened to shatter at a negative word from Cleo, in check.

Her lovely blue eyes widened, her mouth falling open. “A year ago?” she breathed. Her face flooded with color as her hands flew to her mouth. “You wrote that a year and a month ago? Before you even came back to the London Masters Club?”

“Yes! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Hope, relief and desperation to make himself understood jangled and clashed inside his brain. Taking a deep breath, he chose hope and barreled on.

“Even when I came back to the club, I wasn’t really ready. I thought I could anesthetize myself against my grief by hardcore play with faceless sub girls. But then there was you.”

He pulled her hands gently from her face and gazed into her eyes, keeping her fingers locked in his. “Seeing you again—scening with you again, this time without Annette—took me by surprise. I felt guilty because of my new, strong feelings for you. I know I acted like a dick back then, shutting you out and denying my own feelings. I’m sorry for that. I was confused and conflicted because I hadn’t really finished processing my grief. But I’m not that guy anymore, Cleo. This past week wasn’t some wild fling. I refuse to believe that.”

She said nothing, but she was listening now, giving him her full attention.

“I love you, Cleo,” he implored. “And I’m at peace with this new love, because I know in my heart that Annette would want this for me—for us.”

Jack held his breath as the world hung in the balance. He’d said all he could say. Now it was up to her.

~*~

Cleo didn’t react for several seconds, frozen in place as her brain struggled to catch up with her heart.

For the past hour, she’d been nursing her grudges and entertaining her resentments with such wild abandon it was hard to rein herself back in. As she’d sat in the café drinking her tea and brooding, she’d checked the flight schedule for airlines going to New York that day, along with her credit card limit and her bank account balance. She could definitely swing a one-way ticket back to New York, albeit in coach. She would return to the safe harbor of the New York Masters Club and put Jack and all his empty promises behind her.

Then he’d appeared, swooping into the café like a hero in a rom-com. Even in her fury, she’d noticed how sexy he was, with that blond hair falling over his eyes as he wove quickly past the small tables, ignoring the disapproving glares of proper matrons as he brushed past them. He’d looked so handsome and earnest as he’d approached her, as if he hadn’t just destroyed her world.

Even then, she’d been so convinced she was in the right, standing firm on the moral high ground. She’d girded herself against whatever smooth lies he would spew at her, determined to refuse any lame apologies he might offer.

Yet, it was she, not Jack, who needed to apologize. She’d snooped where she hadn’t been invited, and she’d leaped to all sorts of conclusions that now filled her with shame.

Instead of admiring the depth of his love and grief for his late wife, she’d thought only in terms of herself. She had expected trust from Master Jack, but she hadn’t been willing to trust him in return.

Jack was regarding her now with a fierce intensity, his warm, intelligent eyes bright with unshed tears. A fault line opened along the edge of her heart at what she’d done, or nearly done, to destroy their fledgling love connection.

It was she who reached for his hands now. She gripped them, more tears spilling down her cheeks, though this time they were from joy.

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I didn’t understand. I looked at something never meant for my eyes and jumped to conclusions without giving you a chance to explain. Can you ever forgive me? Can we try again?”

“Cleo,” he whispered. “Of course I forgive you. I love you.”

He held out his arms and she hurled herself into them, burying her face against his chest. “Oh, Master Jack, I love you, too.”

They embraced for a long time, rocking gently together in a soothing rhythm. Master Jack was the first to pull gently away. As Cleo looked up, he placed a finger gently under her chin, a sexy smile hovering on his lips.