Page 146 of Gilt

“We’re going to take off soon, Duchess.” Jameson guides me to a cushy leather chair, and I laugh when he begins to buckle my seat restraint.

“I can do that myself,” I assure him.

He does it anyway, kissing me on the forehead in the process. “I have to protect what’s mine.”

He isn’t saying it, but I know the last few days of separation nearly drove him crazy. If it hadn’t been for Josie, I’d probably be stark raving mad as well. It’s going to take more than a few serious conversations to heal the damage that’s been done to our relationship, but right now I think we’re simply relieved to be together. We can piece together the events of the last week later.

Jameson takes the seat next to mine, and I raise an eyebrow when he doesn’t buckle up.

“Do I need to buckle you in?” I ask.

He heaves a sigh and fastens the safety belt.

“Just protecting what’s mine,” I tease him. The butterflies in my stomach take flight as the jet begins to wheel down the runway.

“Are you okay?” he asks next to me, and I realize I’m clutching the arms of my seat.

“This isn’t how I saw my day going,” I admit. Heading on a romantic adventure hadn’t been on my radar.

“Monroe packed a bag of your things that you left at my house.”

I think that information is supposed to reassure me, but I’ve met his sister. I can’t imagine what she thinks is necessary for a weekend holiday. Beggars can’t be choosers, so I cross my fingers there are clean panties. Anything else is cake.

He holds my hand until we’re in the air. As soon as I feel the landing gear lock into place, I’m out of my seat, and scrambling onto his lap. Strong arms wrap around my waist as I straddle him, and I feel even safer than I did before.

“I missed you,” I murmur. I can’t seem to bring myself to meet his eyes because Jameson’s right. I didn’t have faith. I’d been the one to nearly give up on us. I can blame my crappy childhood all I want, but I chose to believe the worst.

“Look at me, Duchess,” he commands in a low voice, and I dare to lift my face to his. “It’s behind us now.”

Such simple words, but they carry so much meaning. We’d already faced what felt like an insurmountable obstacle. Whatever comes next, I know we will have each other.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper.

“No, you deserve more.”

I take a deep breath, a leap of faith, and choose to believe him.

“What have you been doing while you hid from me this week?” Jameson asks, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I nuzzle against his hand. This week has been full of terrible and right now, I want to be with him.

“Talk to me,” he urges. “When we were apart, I nearly went crazy wondering what you were doing.”

“I was hiding from my life,” I confess. My life had managed to intrude anyway, and it will keep doing so. “Let’s see, my mom is getting a divorce.”

Jameson’s eyes darken, and I know he’s thinking about the night he saved me from my stepfather. He clears his throat. “Because of what he did to you and your sister?”

I nod as I begin to feel tears pricking my eyes. “She refuses to take the information to the police.”

“I can handle that,” he practically growls.

“No,” I say resolutely. “I could, but this isn’t my battle anymore. I don’t want any more to do with it. Even though...”

I hesitate, because I don’t like bringing up money, especially not with a West.

“Out with it, Duchess,” he commands.

“She’s arranged for a trust fund in my name. Hans was more than happy to settle the separation quietly,” I say. I know Jameson can read between the lines. My stepfather paid my mother off. “It’s blood money.”