Chapter 200
“How is your hand?” He reached out and took her right hand. The palm was bruised a deep purple where the handle of the riding crop had dug into her skin.
“It’s stiff,” she admitted.
He picked up a bottle of lotion from the side table, squeezed a measure onto his fingers, and began working it gently into her palm.
“You need to be careful,” he murmured, pressing the knot out of her muscle with slow, deliberate circles. “Violence has recoil.”
“I’m not sorry I did it,” Jocelyn said.
“I know,” Gaston said. He looked up at her. “And I’m proud of you for fighting back. But next time, let me be the weapon.”
𝘕𝖾𝘸 𝖼𝗁𝗮𝘱𝗍e𝘳𝘀 𝘦𝘃е𝘳y w𝖾𝗲k o𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗹ո𝘰𝘷𝖾l𝗌.𝖼𝗈𝘮
He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the bruised palm. His mouth was warm and unhurried.
Jocelyn flushed. The sensation moved straight to her chest.
At Kieran’s office, Aspen barged in without knocking. She was no longer limping.
“Daddy says we’re ruined! You have to do something!” she shrieked.
Kieran pressed his fingers to his temples. The migraine that had been building for two days sharpened.
“I can’t stop Collins, Aspen. He’s a leviathan. He has more money than God.”
“Then hit him where it hurts!” she screamed. “His reputation! He’s a pervert — make people believe it!”
Kieran looked at her. At the twisted set of her face, the shrill certainty in her voice, the entitled rage that answered every obstacle with destruction.
This was the woman he was supposed to marry.
A cold wave of revulsion moved through him.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
He just needed her to stop talking.
The hospital garden was a small oasis of green amid the concrete. Gaston wheeled Jocelyn along the path in the cool morning air. She was wrapped in a blanket, looking better but still fragile.
“The doctor says Grandma will recover,” Gaston said, steering the chair along the path. “But she needs peace.”
“I can’t take her back to the Schneider estate,” Jocelyn said, twisting the blanket in her hands.
“She isn’t going back,” Gaston said. “I’ve arranged a suite at the Collins assisted living facility on the Upper East Side. Top tier. Twenty-four-hour security. No Schneiders permitted.”
Jocelyn looked up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “You think of everything.”
“There is one thing we should discuss,” Gaston said, slowing the chair near a fountain. “The wedding ceremony.”
“The big public event,” Jocelyn remembered.
“With everything happening — the scandal, your health, Grandma — perhaps we should delay the celebration,” Gaston said.
Jocelyn felt a quiet pang of disappointment. Does he want to back out?
“Delay?” she asked softly. “Or cancel?”
Gaston walked around the wheelchair and crouched in front of her. He took her hands in his.
“Delay the party,” he said, his eyes steady on hers. “Not the marriage. I’m not letting you go, Jocelyn.”
He smiled. “We’ll hold the ceremony when you’ve healed. When you can dance.”
Jocelyn nodded, relief moving through her. “Okay. No dancing yet.”
He squeezed her bandaged hand gently. “And next time you want to whip someone, wear gloves. Blisters are unbecoming on a Collins.”
She laughed. “Yes, sir.”
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Message from Noa: Have a great Tuesday dear readers. God loves you and Noa wishes you all the best. (=◡=) /