Chapter 343
“`
– For each row, replace every instance of “Chapter 343” with “Chapter N” (where N is that row’s chapter number). Do not alter any other text, HTML attributes, or formatting.
Chapter 343:
“I don’t pity you!” Jocelyn cried, pouring every ounce of herself into the words. “I miss you! I miss you so much I cannot breathe! Come home right now p>
Gaston’s breath hitched.
“I love you,” Jocelyn confessed, the words tearing across the distance between them. “I love you, Gaston p>
The words hit him like a blow to the chest.
𝖸𝘰u𝗋 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝗍 fa𝘃𝗼r𝗂𝗍𝘦 𝗿еа𝗱 𝘪𝘀 on
All the years of waiting. All the agonizing pain of physical therapy. All the planning and plotting carried out in the shadows. It had all been building to this single moment.
A single tear escaped Gaston’s eye and tracked slowly down his cheek. A fierce, euphoric smile broke across his face.
“Say it again,” Gaston demanded, his voice a ragged, desperate rasp.
“I love you,” Jocelyn sobbed.
“Wait for me,” Gaston ordered.
He hung up, turned around, and kicked the boardroom doors open. The executives flinched in their seats.
“The meeting is postponed indefinitely,” Gaston announced, his eyes burning with a manic, brilliant fire.
He looked at his assistant.
“Get the jet in the air,” Gaston commanded. “Now p>
Sunday afternoon. The sky over New York was an ugly, bruised purple.
A violent thunderstorm had rolled in off the Atlantic, sheets of freezing rain hammering the concrete. Jocelyn did not wait in the warm penthouse.
She drove her Porsche straight to Teterboro Airport in New Jersey and stood on the edge of the private tarmac, holding a large black umbrella that the driving wind had already rendered useless. The rain soaked the bottom of her jeans and her boots. She stared up at the dark, churning clouds.
Most commercial flights had been grounded. Gaston’s Gulfstream G650 had demanded priority clearance.
A low, deafening roar cut through the thunder.
The sleek silver jet pierced through the heavy clouds and hit the runway hard, throwing up massive walls of water as the thrust reversers screamed. The plane had barely rolled to a stop before the cabin door popped open and the stairs unfolded.
Gaston did not wait for the ground crew. He did not grab a jacket. Wearing only a thin white dress shirt and dark trousers, he sprinted down the metal stairs and stepped directly into the torrential downpour.
Jocelyn dropped her umbrella.
She ran. She ran across the flooded tarmac as fast as her legs would carry her.
Gaston saw her. He stopped in the middle of the runway and threw his arms wide open.
Jocelyn launched herself into the air and crashed into his chest like a missile. The impact forced him back a step, but his arms locked instantly around her waist, crushing her against his body. The freezing rain soaked them both to the bone. Neither of them felt the cold.
Gaston grabbed the back of her head, tilted her face up, and brought his mouth down onto hers.
It was a brutal, desperate collision. He kissed her like a man dying of thirst, tasting rain and the salt of her tears. Jocelyn wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and surrendered completely.