Page 107 of Bitter Heat

She sagged to the floor and put her hands over her face as she sobbed. She could still hear the heart machine, smell the sterile scent of his hospital room, and feel his hand growing cold in hers. She rocked, trying to soothe herself, but knew it would do no good. Guilt savaged her insides. His voice whispered in her ears, which made her cry harder. She had her ups and downs with her father, but he was the only parent she’d ever known, and in the end, he was there when she needed him most. Their time together was a gift, but it had been too brief.

When the storm had passed, she forced herself up and hobbled out of the kitchen. She stole a duvet from one of the bedrooms and dragged it into the living room. She lay on the couch facing the windows and let out a shaky sigh. At this height, no buildings obstructed her view. She was a part of the endless blue. She could be anywhere in the world. No one would believe she was in the heart of the city. She buried her face in the pillow as another wave of sorrow crept up on her. She cried until her eyes were swollen shut and she was limp.

When she was disowned, it hurt, but it was nothing compared to this. Not talking to her sisters and father wasn’t an impossible feat because they didn’t have a relationship, but now… Now, she knew what she was missing—support, guidance, love… It was all gone, just like that. Losing Maximus was a cruel blow that knocked her to her knees. The Thalia Crane series was intrinsically intertwined with her life, which meant she would have to relive her father’s death on the page. The readers would think it was a cruel plot twist, but it was just life. Her father was a fan favorite with all of his flaws proudly on display. The readers would mourn him with her. Maximus had been an extreme father, but what did one expect from a man who had been raised to excel at everything he did? He wanted what was best for her and assumed that he knew what that was. Maybe he did. Maybe marrying Ford would have led her down a much more contented path. She wouldn’t be a writer, but maybe she would have found joy in her children or some other hobby. Who knew?

The sky turned to gold as the sun began to set. Drawn to the beauty, she left her position on the couch and curled up on the window seat and watched the clouds creep in, concealing the city below. If she could get through this window, she would fall right into heaven… She splayed her hand on the glass, wanting to be a part of something stunning and tranquil instead of being herself. She preferred to be in an alternate universe because she didn’t fit in the one she had been born into. Roth was the one person who made living in the now worth it, and he had damaged her so badly that a part of her was still trying to piece herself back together. For a short time, she’d had her father, and now she was back to being alone.

Her hand dropped from the window. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye as she rested her head on her arm and tucked herself as close to the glass as possible. She closed her eyes and imagined the soft brush of central air were clouds caressing her face.

The ding of the elevator interrupted her snooze. It was dark now, and as the lights came on, the window reflection showed a large figure entering the penthouse. Roth was back. She willed him to go to his office or the bedroom, but he came straight toward her. She closed her eyes and tried to even out her breathing. He brushed the duvet down.

“Jasmine.”

The sound of his soft murmur nearly broke her. To cover the fresh burn of tears, she made a grunting noise and pressed herself against the glass to hide her face. He wasn’t having it. He gripped her shoulder and pulled, so she rolled into his arms. She kept her eyes closed as he picked her up with the duvet still wrapped around her.Leave me alone, she chanted in her head. She had turned to him in Colorado, but she would never do so again. She wouldn’t give him the opportunity to fling her pain back in her face when he felt like it. No matter how considerate he appeared at times, it was only skin deep. He didn’t really feel anything for her. It was a painful lesson she had finally learned.

He settled her on the couch and hovered over her. What the hell was he looking for? Her breath stuttered when he brushed his finger against her damp eyelash. What the fuck? She felt a whoosh of air as he walked away. She relaxed and tried to think of what to do when she heard his footsteps coming back. She jostled when he sat beside her. She heard a familiar whirring sound as his laptop booted.

“Yeah?”

When she jerked, his hand rested on her hair.

“Yeah,” he said again.

Oh, he was on the phone. The person on the other end sounded like Mickey Mouse. His hand disappeared as he typed and then returned to play with her tangled hair.

“Mm. Get back to me.”

She heard a thump as he set the phone on the table. That was how he ended his calls? She played dead as she felt his eyes skim over her. Ten seconds later, she heard him tapping keys.

His presence diluted the pain, and thoughts of her father began to dissipate as her mind focused on the rhythm of his typing. She didn’t know how to get out of this. If she opened her eyes, he’d see how swollen and bloodshot they were. There would be no hiding the fact that she had a crying fest. Her thoughts drifted as he worked, taking two more phone calls and giving one-word answers. She wasn’t sure if that was how he normally talked or if he was trying to be considerate. Between phone calls, he worked on his laptop and occasionally stroked her hair.

When she calculated that thirty minutes had passed, she fake-stirred. Instantly, the typing stopped.

“Jasmine?”

She shifted the duvet to cover her face. “You’re back.”

Once more, his hand landed on her hair. “A little while ago.”

She pulled away and sat up with her face turned away from him. “I’m going to shower.”

Before she could stand, she was dragged onto his lap.

“Let me go, Roth,” she said and kept her eyes closed.

He clasped her face. “Look at me.”

She ducked her head as her eyes burned. “Why?”

He forced her face around. She reached out blindly to push him away.

“You had a hard day,” he murmured.

With all the attention he had paid her, she had begun to suspect he knew, but the confirmation made her swallow hard.

“How?” she whispered.

“Security cameras.”

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