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Chapter 348
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Chapter 348:
“I can let the deal burn,” Gaston whispered, his hands finding her waist.
Jocelyn shook her head. She guided his arms into the sleeves and began buttoning the shirt over his chest, her fingers working calmly from the bottom up.
“Mrs. Collins does not need a king who loses his empire because he cannot leave his bedroom,” Jocelyn told him softly. “Go to the airport p>
The rational strength in her eyes hit him like a blow.
Gaston grabbed the back of her head and kissed her so hard it stole the air from her lungs.
𝗥𝗼𝗺𝗮nс𝖾 a𝗇𝖽 p𝗮𝘀𝗌i𝘰n o𝗻 𝘨а𝘭ո𝗼𝗏𝖾𝗹ѕ.сo𝘮
“Three days,” Gaston promised against her lips. “I will be back in three days p>
Thirty minutes later, the suite was empty.
Jocelyn showered, changed into comfortable jeans and a cashmere sweater, and sat on the edge of the bed. Reaching to put her charger in the nightstand drawer, her fingers brushed against a heavy, leather-bound book. Her old St. Jude’s Preparatory Academy yearbook — a relic she hadn’t touched in years.
She pulled it out. The pages fell open naturally to a candid spread of the campus, and her eyes locked onto a photograph of the historic red brick wall behind the old gymnasium.
Her heart gave a strange, physical flutter. She remembered that wall. She remembered sitting there in her youth, and she remembered the words “Jocelyn + Kieran” she had foolishly carved into the rough clay. A sudden, overwhelming need for closure washed over her. She needed to see the physical proof of her past one last time, to finally lay that ghost to rest.
She grabbed her car keys.
Two hours later, Jocelyn parked her Porsche on the quiet, tree-lined campus of St. Jude’s on Long Island. The air was crisp and smelled of wet earth.
She walked behind the old gymnasium. The red brick wall was cordoned off with yellow caution tape. An old man with a shock of white hair was sweeping wet leaves near the base, wearing a faded St. Jude’s janitorial jacket. He looked up as she approached, squinting through thick glasses.
“I know you,” the old man said, his voice raspy. “You used to sit by this wall and read p>
Jocelyn smiled softly. “I did p>
The old man leaned on his broom and looked at the crumbling bricks.
“It is a shame,” he sighed. “A tall, terrifying young man with eyes like a wolf used to stand by that oak tree over there, just staring at you while you read. He even took a pocket knife and carved his own initials right next to yours. But the ivy grew over it years ago. Then, about ten years ago, the school ordered me to power-wash all the graffiti off this wall p>
He pointed a wrinkled finger at a brick bearing the faded inscription of “Jocelyn + Kieran p>
Jocelyn’s stomach tightened. “Why didn’t you p>
The old man chuckled and shook his head.
