Page 78 of Driving Him Wild

With every fibre of my being I wanted to screamyes.

My heart dropped to my stomach, acceptance that our agreement was officially over, that I was no

longer his mistress, or he my sub, blinding me with pain so acute, I nearly gasped.

It if hurts this much, then why are you leaving?

Because what I wanted didn’t matter. Because...

You’re not enough. You’ll never be enough.

My mother’s words echoed and re-echoed in my head. And the heart I thought had shrivelled to

uselessness after being steeped in years of pain and bitterness started to bleed.

‘I’d stay if there was something worth staying for,’ I forced out. ‘It’s been fun, but we both know that was all this was ever going to be.’

Gentleness evaporated and the cold scorn returned. ‘Bullshit. Cut the lies and say it like it is.

You’re going to board your chopper and run away because you’re scared.’

He waited, eyes fixed on me as a minute ticked by. Two.

I remained silent, holding my tattered emotions inside because I was terrified of opening my mouth.

Petrified I would scream that, yes, everything he said was true.

With a tight curse, he left the room and jogged downstairs with my bag. I followed, mourning the

sight of my bag propped beside the door. Avoiding the taunting images of a Graciela who apparently

lived inside me but wasn’t strong enough to reach for what she wanted, I perched on the farthest end of the sofa, staring into the fire and fighting the tears that threatened.

Stealthily, I watched Jensen prowl around the room, tugging on his thick coat and boots. When the

ominous sound of a helicopter approaching shattered the silence, he strode to my bag, picked it up and opened the door.

A chill wind blew in, but it was nothing compared to the cold seizing my insides at the thought of

leaving this rustic cabin. Leaving Jensen.

‘You’ll hear from me shortly,’ he said, his voice stony.

My heart leapt, then the true meaning sank in. He was talking about the project. The work I’d given just fleeting thought to over the past three days. ‘My assistant will put you in touch with the editorial team.’

His jaw clenched and he shook his head. ‘You’re not fobbing me off on your assistant. You hired

me. You’re going to deal with me. I won’t have my time wasted going back and forth with

subordinates who’ll feed me second-hand information. I’ll be in London next week with the finished

project. We’ll meet, then hopefully we can be rid of each other.’

His words were firm, forceful, any hint of the earlier pleading and deep craving gone. I wanted to

step back in time, accept the extra day, see where it led. But I already knew the outcome. Two more broken souls. More anguish that would keep me up at night. I couldn’t take that. Not any more.

And yet, I couldn’t make my feet move. Couldn’t step off his frozen porch and climb the chopper

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