Conquer Your Love (22 page)

“That’s not exactly three
requests but five,” I pointed out.

“It’s either you do what I
say, or nothing.”

Talk about an inability to
compromise.

“Brooke?” It wasn’t a
question; it was a warning, magnified by the determination in his eyes and the
stubborn line on his forehead. He was back to his alpha male ways, trying to
protect me, or whatever his male hormones drove him to do.

“Okay,” I said, already
regretting giving in so easily. “Will you drive me back?”

“Sure, baby.” He winked, back
in his good mood. “Just hold on tight.”

I rolled my eyes at his
choice of words. They seemed to form one of his
favorite
phrases.

***

On the drive back home Jett
kept checking the
rearview
mirror and the more he
did, the more my nervousness increased. If it weren’t for the car chase
yesterday, I would’ve thought he suffered from paranoia. Jett drove slowly,
maybe because he wasn’t used to the rental car he picked up in the morning.
Or maybe because he didn’t want to draw any attention to us.
Either way, I felt bad for his
Lamborghini.
Not that it meant anything to me, but because I knew how much he loved it.

“I’m sorry about your car,” I
said.

“It’s not that bad. She’ll be
as good as new in no time.” Jett winked amused and focused back on the road.

His car was a
she
?

Wow! I didn’t know whether he
was laughing at me, or trying to annoy me. In the end, I decided to keep my
mouth shut.

Less than half an hour later,
the car stopped in front of Alessandro’s house. Turning to say goodbye was the
difficult part. It always was. Leaving him, not knowing when I’d see him again,
a part of me missing him already even though I hadn’t even left the car yet.

“Thank you for the date,” I
said. “I’m glad I came.”

He shot me his dazzling smile
and ran his hand through his hair before settling on the wheel. “I’m thankful
for the second chance.”

“So am I.”

He leaned over and our lips
met in a short but heated kiss. “Remember, I want you to keep the phone
switched on at all times. If you find anything suspicious—no matter how
minuscule or ridiculous it might seem—call me and I’ll be there.”

“Got it.” I nodded. My eyes
remained glued to him, soaking him in. The words ‘call me’ triggered a memory.
“Jett, did you call me two days ago, about half an hour after you dropped me
off at the spa?”

His frown showed me he
didn’t.

I pretended not to notice. “I
thought I’d ask because the number was private.”

“I don’t hide my number.” I
heard the tension in his voice, the mistrust, and the suspicion. “Did you pick
up?”

“Yeah, but no one replied.” I
bit my lip. He studied me for a moment.

“Maybe I speed-
dialed
you by accident,” he suggested. “Or maybe it was a
friend.”

“Maybe.” I really wanted to
believe it because it was a possibility, and yet I couldn’t. In my book
coincidences didn’t really exist. “You’re probably right and it was a friend,
though with the time difference, it would’ve been early morning back home and I
don’t know anyone who’d be up at that hour.”

I felt stupid for bringing
this up and dragging on the conversation for longer than necessary. I grabbed
my handbag from the backseat, when my eyes fell on something half covered by
Jett’s leather jacket and stashed in a holster. I had seen a gun before but
never touched one in real life.

“Jett?” I moistened my lips,
surprised at the calmness in my voice compared to the frantic beating of my
heart. “What’s a gun doing in your car?”

“What gun?”

I stretched to lift his
jacket when his hand grabbed mine, stopping me. “Don’t touch it.” His eyes
locked with mine.

I knew. He knew that I knew.
And yet he remained silent, probably preferring I had never seen it.

“What are you doing with a
gun and where did you get it?” I asked slowly, my angry gaze demanding an
answer.

“Brooke, you’re not safe.” He
shrugged and trailed off, leaving the rest open for interpretation. “ I don’t
want anything happening to you.”

Oh, sweet Lord!

“So you got a gun? Is that
your answer to our problems?”

Because if
it was, I had no idea how to react.

He didn’t answer straight away. “Why not? If keeping you safe involves
breaking a few rules, then so be it. You don’t need to know more than that.” He
moistened his lips and turned to stare out the car window.

I regarded his profile. Strangely the thought of him having a gun didn’t
shock me, not after the few things he shared about his life. What outraged me
was the knowledge that I
wasn’t
afraid.

As long as nobody got killed and Jett didn’t get into any trouble, I was
fine with it.

***

 
I looked at the watch on my wrist. It was
1.15 p.m.
In spite of a good night’s
sleep and a nourishing breakfast, I felt lightheaded, as though I was floating
in a vacuum, unable to focus on more than taking a step after another. So much
had happened since I left Sylvie. The date, the proof Jett was on my side, his
past, the sex, the pursuit,
the
discovery of his
weapon, his declaration that he cared about me—which wasn’t really that
of a surprise because he had said it before. But, with all the drama and
emotional baggage gone, it felt different.

Real
.

Yet I couldn’t tell my best
friend a word about it. It was time I cleared up the misunderstanding about
Jett, so I wouldn’t have to hide my blossoming relationship from Sylvie
anymore. But how I was I supposed to explain everything without sounding like I
had a screw loose? And—even worse—how I was I supposed to handle
her reaction? Sylvie wasn’t just overprotective; her vices included the
inability to forgive when she felt betrayed. I had a nagging feeling that after
all the bitching we did about Jett back in New York, dating him would feel like
pure betrayal to her.

Taking a deep steadying
breath, I unlocked the front door and entered. The house was deadly quiet,
which felt strange. Unnerving. I checked the living room and kitchen, and then
walked upstairs to her bedroom, and knocked.

No answer.

“Sylvie?” I opened the door
and peeked inside. Her clothes lay scattered all over the floor. Her handbag
was on her unmade bed. I peered inside. Except for her phone and credit card,
nothing seemed to be missing.

An ice-cold knot twisted
inside my stomach. Sylvie never left the house without her makeup. Did
something happen to her? If something happened, I’d never forgive myself.

I dashed down the stairs, and
double-checked the obvious places—the living room, kitchen, veranda, and
backyard.
No one in sight.

“Sylvie?” I called as I
descended the stony stairs leading toward the woods. Just as I opened my mouth
to try again, I spied her on the other side of the pool. She was clad in a
bikini, lounging on a chair, her fingers clasped around a cocktail glass. Where
the heck did she get that
one from?

I heaved a sigh of relief.

She looked well and safe.
Heading for her, I noticed she had her eyes closed and music blaring through
the earphones. I leaned over her, figuring she’d notice my presence. She didn’t
stir.

“Sylvie?” I squeezed her arm
gently.

Her blue eyes flew open and
she almost jumped in her lounger. For an instant, fear crossed her face before
she recognized me and then she smiled, which was quickly replaced by a mask of
anger. She was truly madly furious.

 
“What the fuck, Brooke! You scared the
living shit out of me. Where have you been?” she shouted.

I pointed at her earphones.
She removed them but her angry expression didn’t change.

“Where have you been?” she
repeated. “I had to call the police. I didn’t know what to do.”

Her eyes were wide with fear
and there were dark circles beneath them.

“Oh my god. You did what?” I
sat down and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, fearing the worst—
that
someone threatened her and hurt her. “Are you okay? Did
something happen?”

 
“What are you talking about? Of course
I’m not okay.” Pausing, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as though
to calm herself. “When your best friend goes missing in a place God-knows-where
and you’re expected to communicate in a language you don’t speak, obviously
you’re scared out of your mind.” Her finger jabbed my chest as her eyes spew
fire at me. “You call. You act like an adult and let your best friend know
where you are. You don’t freaking
bail.
”

I had never seen her like
this. Angry. Hurt. Vulnerable.

“You have a funny way of
showing,” I said, pointing at the cocktail in her hand.

“Yeah, well. Whatever shit
you’re going through, it’s easier when you’re half drunk.” She wrapped the long
cord of her headphones around her iPhone, her voice still raw with emotion.
“Music’s the only thing that helps me switch off from imagining all the things
that could have happened to you.”

Drawing her close to me, I
hugged her whispering, “I’m sorry.” I truly hoped she could hear the remorse in
my voice. I was horribly sorry for inflicting that much worry upon her.

Sylvie shook her head
angrily, rubbing away the moisture in her eyes. “I thought something bad
happened to you.” She sounded upset but her tone had calmed down a little.

“I’m so sorry, Sylvie. I know
I should have called but you were supposed to get a text message and—”

The hard edge in my voice
made her look up.

 
“I got a text message which sounded
nothing like you. What happened?” She eyed me up and down suspiciously. Her
X-ray gaze brushed over my face and crumbled clothes. “Where were you?”

The moment I had been
dreading had come. Okay, where to start?

Good question, Stewart. What about the beginning?

I took a long steadying
breath and let it out slowly. Her eyes fell on the watch and sure enough her
jaw dropped.

“Oh my god.” I could almost
see her brain working. The moment she put two and two together, her frown
changed into a scowl. “You went out with a guy! Please tell me I’m wrong.”

She narrowed her eyes at me
as she scanned my face, her jaw dropping further.

“You didn’t, Brooke.”

I nodded.

“You little –
britch
. Who is it?”

Whenever Sylvie was extremely
happy or angry with me, she called me ‘
britch
.’ It
all dated back to the day we were invited to her boring cousin’s wedding. It
was all a big traditional yawn, so Sylvie and I had the idea to ditch the party
in
favor
of Sylvie’s backstage passes to a
gig—and a musician guy she had been dying to meet. Happy with my offer
but also feeling guilty to miss her cousin’s party, Sylvie had combined the
words ‘bride’ with ‘bitch’, calling me a ‘
britch
.’ It
was a whole different story or maybe not so different now, considering I
ditched her to meet Jett in secret.

“Uh.” I couldn’t even look
into her eyes. “There’s a lot I didn’t tell you.”

Fighting for words, I almost
expected another of Sylvie’s famous outbursts. What I got instead was a stare
with a glint in her eyes that screamed trouble.

“Oh my god.” Her voice was so
low I wasn’t sure I heard right. “Oh my god. You’re dating
him
again.”

“Sylvie—” I raised my
hand to stop her and let me explain but she cut me off.

“The signs were there. I should
have known no one changes
their
depressed mood out of
the blue. All this time I thought you were moving on, while you were hooking up
with
Jett
.”

I could pretend she was wrong
and bide myself time, but was the point in lying?

“How did you figure it out?”
I asked, grinning. I should have felt guilty, but I couldn’t help myself. Just
hearing Jett’s name coming out of Sylvie’s mouth and her look—her
priceless scorn—made me smile.

“Come here.” She wrapped her
arms around me. “You silly, silly cow! How could you think just for one minute
I wouldn’t notice how deeply and madly you’re in love with him?”

“Is it that obvious?” I
whispered.

Nodding, she laughed. “Even
if I was blind, I’d still sense that stupid grin on your face every time you
think no one’s looking.”

I laughed with her because
she was right. Jett did that to me even when he wasn’t around.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

She shrugged, not asking what
for. There were so many reasons. Like the fact that she kept proving time after
time that she was the best friend in the world. We laughed until our eyes
shimmered with tears—and still couldn’t stop. It was almost like it used
to be when were younger and in my case careless. All the stupid things we did
and how we stuck together through every single mistake.
The
good, the bad, and the
outrageous
.