I grabbed a glass from where it had been drying on the rack beside the sink. My eyes focused on the single plate, the mug—I was a tea drinker now—the single set of cutlery.
It was the ordinary things that hurt me now. The evidence of me living my life alone. Spinsterhood.
“Jesus Christ, I sound like Bridget fucking Jones,” I muttered to myself, opening a bottle of red and filling the glass up, right to the top. I didn’t fuck around with the half empty bullshit.
The native birds sang as I walked out the sliding doors off the living room, breathing in the salty air that rubbed in all of my open wounds. It was cold, cold enough that I should’ve gone back in to grab a sweater, but I kept walking down the sun-bleached wooden steps that travelled down to a sandy path which led to the beach beyond.
My beach.
My ocean, it seemed.
This little cottage—bach as it was fondly called in New Zealand—was nestled between acres of farmland that the owner refused to sell despite lucrative offers. This meant that the only resident of this beach for many miles was me. It was rather breathtaking, looking at the way the land bent in front of me, mountains looming in the distance, seeming to plunge into the turquoise sea. The last of the sun pressed down on me just as hard as the ocean breeze.
I sipped my wine, walking slowly, looking at nothing and trying very hard to think about nothing.
“I’m a sinner, pet. You know this. My job is lies. My very existence, inhaling and exhaling, are a series of mistruths, secrets and betrayals. There was no way I could admit to you, or myself, that I was capable of loving. Because I knew I was, and I knew that my love would be your curse. Knew that it was an inevitability to fall for you. Knew I’d ruin your life loving you. So I lied. Like only a sinner can.”
The memory burned hot, even as the air chilled my exposed skin.
He was right. His love was a curse.
“Nice night for it.”
I jumped, twisting around in the direction of the voice that just spoke.
Standing in front of me was a man. A man holding a gun.
Chapter 2
Jay
Jay was staring at his computer screen when the elevator doors opened.
His hand automatically went to the gun he had sitting in the open drawer to his left.
“You’re still here,” an irritated female voice declared.
Jay let go of his gun and settled his gaze on the irritated female in question. Though he’d never met her in person, he recognized Wren Whitney from the intelligence he’d had done and from the photographs of her on Stella’s social media.
She was more beautiful in person, which was saying something since she photographed incredibly well. Short, petite, angled cheekbones. Good hair. Eyes that held fire which made even Jay flinch internally.
He got why Karson was tangled up in this one.
“Why are you still here?” Wren demanded, storming up to his desk on six-inch heels before laying her palms flat on the surface in front of him. She leaned over to glare at him some more in a power move the head of the Italian Mafia wouldn’t even be brave enough to pull off.
Jay was amused. Or he was almost amused. He was too fucking miserable to be anything else.
“I’m here because this is my office,” Jay replied evenly. Normally, people who stormed into his office without an appointment and without respect pissed him off and were not long for this world. This was different, though. This was someone directly connected to Stella.
The elevator dinged. Karson strode in looking more flustered than Jay had ever seen the man look. His eyes narrowed on Wren’s back, resting on her ass for a second because, despite the situation, Wren was his woman, and she had a nice ass.
Wren did not look back, her eyes were narrowed on Jay.
“I’m sorry sir,” Karson uttered, walking hurriedly up to where Wren was hunched over, shooting Jay daggers. “I’ll get rid of her.”
Now Wren looked at Karson, her glare transitioning and one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. “Pray tell, Karson, honey, tell me how you plan on getting rid of me.” There was a challenge there.
Yeah, Jay got why Karson was tangled up in that.
Because that challenge, that determination, that fire … that’s what Jay had been tangled up in. That’s what Jay had lost.
Jay almost wanted to grin, looking at the two of them. Almost. As much as he wanted Karson to have a good woman, the way he was feeling, Jay would be absolutely gleeful to see everyone else as fucking miserable as he was right now.
“It’s okay, Karson,” Jay stated, saving the man, an uncharacteristic mercy. But all he wanted was to get them out of his sight so he wasn’t taunted with what he had thrown away.