Unbreak My Hart (The Notorious Harts 4)

o it, to feel comfortable and at ease. I’m not afraid of anything, but the more I learn about them the more real they’ll become and I just can’t say if I’m prepared for that yet.

He considers that for a moment, the sunlight glancing through the large windows catching his face in that golden light, and all I can think of, in that moment, is his effortless charm.

There is something compelling about him, something I noticed the night we met in a crowded bar, surrounded by handsome men who spent way too much time on their appearance. He stood out. He stands out now, and my stomach flips as though I’ve driven over the crest of a hill at speed.

‘In many ways the law is simple.’ I expel a breath of relief. I feel that talking about this is akin to having dodged a bullet. ‘It’s black and white, reliable and fair. It’s the backbone of society—something most people won’t need to rely on in their lives but it’s there if they do, a silent force of good, the ultimate protection.’ His words have magic in them. It wraps around my soul. ‘But it’s also complex and in a constant state of flux, alive and reflective of society and its values, the balance between legislation and judicial law creating a humming, buzzing rhythm to the system. I find it...’ he pauses and I hold my breath, entranced ‘...captivating.’

His eyes hold mine and the word seems to singe my skin, warm and mesmerising. My heart beats faster.

He seems to be waiting for me to speak but his words have temporarily robbed me of the ability to form my own.

‘Have you always felt like that?’ I over-compensate for how impressed I am by his answer, making my voice coolly inquisitive.

‘No.’ His grin is lopsided and—if it’s possible—even more charming than before. ‘I enrolled in law because I got great grades in school and was offered a place at Oxford. Initially, I studied it because I thought it prestigious and that it would make my parents proud.’ He sips his tea, his long fingers curved around the cup. Until then, I would never have guessed that a man sipping tea could be so sexy and masculine.

‘But that changed?’

‘Mmm. I bombed out of the first semester. University was...lots of fun.’ He lifts his shoulders and my heart skitters a little. I never went to college but I can imagine all the kinds of fun he means. ‘I was more interested in that side of things.’

‘Parties? Women?’ I tease, sipping my coffee.

‘Tick, tick.’ His eyes pierce me.

‘And you got over that?’

‘My dad made me get over it,’ he says with a small laugh. ‘I went home for term break. He called me into his office—and that place scared the shit out of me back then, let me tell you.’ He does an exaggerated shudder. ‘My parents’ home is really old. Stone, with marble floors and, while they modernised a wing for us to live in, dad’s office is in the medieval heart of the place. Huge walls, dark wood panelling, cold like an ice-box, with deer heads mounted across one whole wall—and they watch you with their big glass eyes—’

I laugh at the image he’s painting, but also curiosity pricks me because the kind of life he’s describing is so foreign to me. He really is aristocratic—oh, so ‘to the manner born’.

‘He was mad at you?’

‘Hell, yeah. He was livid. “You might think all this gives you a right to skate through life but think again, son.”’

I try to imagine what that kind of parental input would be like. It’s been a long time since I felt so aware of how much I lost when Mom died. ‘He was strict?’

‘He was right,’ Barrett corrects. ‘I wasn’t taking life seriously. I got good grades in school without trying. I thought university would be the same but I was really only attending skeleton lectures by the end.’ He shakes his head ruefully.

‘So did he threaten you with disinheritance or something?’ My voice is teasing.

‘Worse. He pulled out the D word.’

I frown, not understanding.

‘“Your mother and I are very disappointed in you, Barrett.”’ He shakes his head. ‘I’ll never forget the way that felt. To know I was letting them down.’ He runs his finger over the handle of his mug. ‘I went back to university and got serious and it was like being shaken awake. I paid attention and saw what the law is, the vital importance of it, and fell completely in love.’

I reach for my coffee, cradling it between my chest and my knees, staring at the waft of steam coming from the top. His words are powerful and somehow frightening. His passion scares me—so too his honesty in discussing it, and his clarity of thought. I move away from his love of the law instinctively.

‘They sound like good parents.’

‘They are.’

‘Do you see much of them?’

‘A couple of times a month.’

‘You don’t still live in the grand old stone house though?’

‘No. I have offices in London and Berne. I travel between the two and head home when I can. They’re getting older so...you know.’