I lean forward, trying to get a better look. The waves grab the object, slam it into the rocks, then drag it back out to sea before hurling it forward again. After a few rounds, it disappears beneath the water.
My breath hitches. Would it be so bad? To just let the sea take me?
Gil’s face flashes through my mind. How he looked at me like I was garbage after his boss threw me out of the mansion. How he chose them over me again and again despite his sweet words.
I take a shaky step forward, almost mesmerized by the ocean. Maybe I’d be better off down there with the rocks and waves. Then I wouldn’t have to keep running, keep lying, keep looking over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
The voice cuts through my thoughts like a blade. I whirl around, my heart slamming against my sternum.
Edward Rochester stands in the gap between the hedges, his hands clasped behind his back. Sunlight catches the silver at his temples, contrasting with his dark eyes. He stares at me with an intensity that makes my mouth go dry. The man is even more devastating in the daylight—sharp angles and masculine grace wrapped in a tailored suit.
My breath quickens, partly from the shock of seeing him here. Mostly from how his features look carved from marble.
“I was just...” My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and his gaze follows the movement. “Just looking at the view.”
“I know what you were doing.”
Fear punches me in the gut. My fingers go numb. Has he found out about the cop already?
“What do you mean?” The words tumble out in a panicked rush.
He takes a step closer, and the breeze carries his scent. It’s the kind of expensive cologne that once made my knees go weak. “I stood at this very ledge when mywife died, wanting to smash my head on those rocks and end it all.”
“No.” I shake my head, trying to deny what he’s suggesting, but he raises a hand and offers me a gentle smile.
“Grief makes us all consider things we shouldn’t. I assure you, there’s no judgment.”
My shoulders sag with relief. I don’t even know why the first thing I thought about was him discovering my secret. “How did you...” I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. “How did you cope with losing your wife?”
Something flickers across his features. It’s a shadow deeper than pain. “Celine wouldn’t have wanted me to grieve forever. She once told me that time can heal even the most shattered heart.”
He places a hand over his chest. My pulse jumps. It’s the exact same gesture the masked man made last night in the garden. I stiffen, too frazzled to work out what it means.
Without thinking about it, I also place a palm over my chest. “Does grief ever get better?”
The smile he gives me is wistful, warm, even welcoming. “After all this time, I’m finally ready for love.”
My heart skips several beats. The way he’s looking at me makes heat pool low in my belly, causes me to forget why I came to this cliff. Surely, he can’t be talking about me?
“Come away from that ledge.” He offers me the crook of his elbow.
I’m mesmerized. Mesmerized by his authority, the way his muscles strain against his jacket sleeve, the promise in his dark eyes. I step away from the cliff’s edge and slip my arm through his.
He’s tall enough that I have to tilt my head back to look at his face. When I do, I find the tension melting from his features, giving way to relief.
We walk back toward the gardens in silence, my arm tucked against his side. Heat rolls off his hard body through the fabric, making my head spin. I would bet my last casino chip that beneath the gentlemanly exterior, beneath that strong physique, beats the heart of a man who could ruin me in all the right ways.
As we pass the end of the hedges, he asks, “What brought you to such a remote estate?”
Panic claws up my throat. Shit. I thought we’d moved past this subject. I force myself to breathe, to think. “The job prospects looked good.”
He chuckles, a rich sound that vibrates through his chest. “It’s rare for a young woman your age to leave the bustle of Beaumont City for Helsing Island.”
And he would have a point. Nobody in their prime would leave a vibrant metropolis for a backwater.
“Bad breakup,” I mutter, keeping my eyes fixed on the stone path.
