Burn My Hart (The Notorious Harts 2)

The thing is, I really do want a normal life one day. I didn’t get to know my mom, and my dad never got over losing her. I always felt like a huge part of me, of my family, was missing, and I guess I want to know what it feels like to be whole again, to be part of a family that isn’t damaged and grieving.

And Theo-Sexual-Quicksand-Hart ticks enough boxes that, if I’m not careful, I’ll never look for anything beyond this. I’ll be sixty with a red-hot career and a fabulous fuck buddy but no husband and no kids, no grandkids, no family.

This has to end and the fact we’ve set the date for that relaxes me. It’s a kind of safety net, making it impossible for me to want more than we’ve got. Simple.

I pull away from the bed, grab my clothes and slink into the next room. I dress silently, risking one last peek at his sleeping figure before I go. He’s smiling and he’s hard. Good, he’s going to hate waking up and finding me gone...

In the kitchen, I paint my lips with Garnet and press a perfect red kiss to a piece of paper near his fridge, then write:

You were too beautiful to wake. See you soon.

I hail a cab as I step out onto the pre-dawn streets of Manhattan, slipping into the back seat, closing my eyes and replaying a night that went from bad to magnificent. I was furious when I arrived but he unpicked my anger, piece by piece, until I felt only pleasure.

A few hours later, I wake to a text.

You got home all right?

My heart turns over in my chest. It’s something he always does and it always makes me smile. I don’t know why he thinks he needs to check, given I’m twenty-eight and have therefore spent a large portion of my life fending for myself, but his consciousness of my safety fills me with something warm and gooey.

Except it’s just Theo. Part of having a God complex is convincing yourself you’re somehow responsible for the safety of every mortal who crosses your path. He’ll be like this with whoever he’s sleeping with after me, he’s no doubt been like it with every woman he slept with before me—it’s not about me and it’s not about us, that’s just him.

Yep. How’d you sleep?

Three dots appear to indicate he’s typing.

I thought you’d still be here when I woke up.

I bite down on my lip.

Sorry. Places to be, people to see etc. You know what it’s like when you’re busy and important.

So glad you could squeeze me into your schedule at all then.

Well, a girl has needs...

Yes, yes, you do. Speaking of which...

I wait, staring at the screen as the little dots keep dancing. It feels like it’s taking h

im a long time to finish his message.

The wedding is in thirty-one days, in Sydney. I have to be there a few days beforehand, and I’m not back till the middle of this week. So we have about twenty-four days left. I know we don’t usually see each other more than a couple of times a week but for the next month consider me fully at your disposal. Any time you have ‘needs’, I’m up for it.

My lips lift.

That’s very generous of you.

Generosity has nothing to do with it. My offer is completely self-serving.

I smile, pushing out of bed, weary but energised all at once.

Ah, I see. Are you saying you’d like *me* to be fully at *your* disposal for the next month?

Caught red-handed.

I smile again.

If only we didn’t both have full-time jobs...