Chapter 283
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Chapter 283:
Jocelyn stopped breathing. She watched him chew with absolute, shameless ease. The boundaries she had tried to rebuild overnight were already turning to dust.
Tuesday morning arrived beneath a heavy, grey overcast sky.
Jocelyn stood in the underground VIP parking garage of the penthouse building, wearing a sharp tailored black business suit and a pair of lethal stiletto heels. She was ready to face the executive board at the Wolfe Hotel.
Gaston walked beside her in a dark navy suit that made his shoulders look impossibly broad. He had insisted on driving her to work himself.
They moved toward his black Aston Martin parked in the corner spot, the garage silent except for the sharp, rhythmic click of Jocelyn’s heels against the concrete.
In the darkest corner of the garage, wedged between two concrete pillars, sat a cheap, unremarkable rental sedan. Kieran was in the driver’s seat. He had not slept. His eyes were sunken deep into his skull, ringed with dark purple shadows. His fingers tapped a frantic, erratic rhythm against the plastic steering wheel.
He watched Jocelyn walk. He watched the way Gaston kept his hand hovering just an inch behind the small of her back — a silent, territorial claim.
Jocelyn reached the passenger side of the Aston Martin and extended her hand toward the door handle.
Gaston moved faster. He stepped into her space and pressed his palm flat against the car door, just above her head.
Jocelyn gasped. She was instantly trapped between the cold metal of the car and the solid, radiating warmth of Gaston’s chest.
She looked up. His face was inches from hers. She could feel his breath brushing against her earlobe.
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“I need a good morning kiss,” Gaston murmured, his voice a low, unhurried demand. “I stayed up until 3 AM reviewing those tax documents for your hotel p>
Jocelyn’s face burned. She glanced around the empty, echoing garage. “Gaston, we are in public p>
“The garage is empty,” he countered, not moving his arm, leaning incrementally closer until his chest brushed against hers.
Fifty feet away, Kieran stopped tapping the steering wheel. His breathing went ragged. He gripped the plastic so hard it groaned.
Jocelyn hesitated. The memory of his confession was still a raw nerve, but the pull of his proximity was overwhelming. She swallowed and rose slightly on her tiptoes, intending to press a quick, dismissive kiss to his cheek.
As she leaned in, Gaston’s eyes flicked over her shoulder.
In the polished black paint of the Aston Martin, he caught a faint reflection — the outline of a man sitting motionless in a rental car half-hidden in the shadows.
A cold, unhurried smile touched the corners of his mouth.
Just as Jocelyn’s lips reached toward his cheek, Gaston turned his head. He captured her mouth cleanly.