He seemed different than last time, though. Colder.
Scarier.
Moving even closer, he placed his hands on the cupboard door behind her. Then he leaned in. “You trying to avoid my father?”
She knew better than to admit it.
“I don’t blame you if you are. You’re scared of him.”
It wasn’t a question. She still couldn’t answer.
Where was the Jared who had offered her a lock for her door? Sent her books to read?
This Jared made her heart race.
Even as she noticed how sexy he was in his white shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, displaying a smattering of chest hair and tanned skin.
He seemed so strong, so confident.
So gorgeous.
Jared ran a finger down her cheek before leaning in. “Do you want out yet, Angie?”
Yes.
Please.
But she forced herself to shake her head because she still had no idea if he was a spy for his father. And he was acting so different than before. When he’d smiled. When he’d seemed genuinely concerned.
He brushed a finger down her cheek. “I get it. Trust is hard. And I’m not exactly in a position to help you anymore, anyway.”
Then he leaned in, kissing her.
To her shock, sparks tingled across her lips and her stomach swooped in response. What the hell was that?
She almost leaned into him, but he abruptly pulled away. His face was cold again.
“I . . . you can’t do that. I’m your father’s wife,” she forced out, making herself stay still.
He smirked at her. “Oh, I’m well aware. Be more careful next time. You should always be aware of your surroundings.” Turning, he walked out.
That was weird.
And terrifying. She touched her finger to her lips.
Yeah. Weird.
Ding-dong the bastard was gone.
Fergus Bartolli was dead.
Fucking finally.
It was time they had some good news. Especially after what had happened in Colombia.
North pushed that thought to one side. What happened had changed Jared. It had made him harder. More ruthless.
Darker.
