Jake's POV (Chapter seven)

I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why the hell life is so twisted. On the outside, I have the perfect life. Multi-billionaire before 30. Engaged to the perfect woman (perfect woman my ass. If I had the chance, I'd run so far away from Clare). Son of a dragoness, as the press call her, but it's not really like that. It has never been and never will be.

I just need some peace, is that too much to ask for? I slide my eyes to the wall clock next to my bed frame and my thought wanders to her. Tessa. The woman who has not been able to leave my mind ever since that night. Damn best night of my life. I'd forever be grateful to Lucas for making me go to that place. He doesn't know I've gone back there. In hopes that I'll see her. All fire and ice. Hot and beautiful, supple and sweet. Tessa. I can still remember what it felt like to have her under me. The arch of her back, the numerous sweet little moles she has on her body and how I'd take my sweet time to kiss them all slowly, making her moan out loud and arch even harder. I'd have given anything to hear her moan my name on those succulent lips of hers. My name, I'd give anything to hear my mention my name when I'm inside her. I still remember every thrust I drove into her. The feel of her under me. Her perfect breasts, her skin. I remember everything about that night.

And most of all, I remember the pain, the fear, the heart-wrenching fear I'd felt when I left her in the room that day. I'd looked at her, looked at her with so much in my heart, it felt like it'd burst out, and I'd laid back on the best, kissed her brows, her forehead and her damp nose and whispered, "I'm Jake. Thank you for the best night of my life." And I went on to do the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life—walk out.

Everything. Every fucking thing in me pulled me to go back, haul her out of there and run to New York, I had a secret house there, or Vegas, Elvis will get us married in no time, or to England, I had a house there that mom didn't know about. But why in the world would she want to go with me? That further proves that I was just out of my mind.

Mother would not kill her if she found out I had a secret love. She'd start with her family—dead or alive. She'd torture each and every living family Tessa had, and finally, if Tessa is still there to witness, she'd torture her as well till she went flying for the hills. Yes, my mother is that wicked. But nobody can ever know. "The Fleggs have to be perfect, as always." That's my mother's favourite mantra. And perfectionism is her watchword. She'd give anything. Yes, anything, to make us remain that way forever, perfect, moulded in her hands, doing her bidding and untainting the family name. 

Fuck! I yell as I get up from the bed. I want nothing more than to leave the hellhole I live in–in the name of a mansion. It chokes me. I want nothing more than to cut my engagement and all ties with Clare, I can't even stand the sight of her for Christ's sake. For goodness' sake, I don't want to get married to just keep the succession going. I don't. I don't think I care for marriage at all. All I want is to just have her in my arms again. Just have her. Kiss her and make her squirm and moan–the throaty sound she made that was more of a groan than a moan–in my arms. I want her so bad I can't think straight. I haven't been able to since that night. I want her, and beyond the amazing lovemaking, I want her to just have another conversation. I've never been able to have a conversation for that long, and still not want it to end. But that happened with her. So I want Tessa so bad, more like need, beyond it all. I want to see her, so beautiful and fierce. Most beautiful woman I laid my eyes on. 

Funny thing is, if I wanted to, I'd have Tessa with me in less than 24 hours. That's how much influence I have. But I know that doing that will only make her more inclined to danger. It will only implicate her further, and I don't want that for her. That's why I haven't called my private investigator since that night. Why I've deleted his number, temporarily, just so I won't be tempted to call him.

In anger, in pain, and in frustration—frustration that I have to keep the perfect mask on, that I can't stand up to my mother and tell her to end this charade, that I can't do what the hell I want just for me without thinking of how it will affect everyone else, I barge out of my room and storm to my study. 

If I remember clearly, I haven't signed the contract from the new investors, and I have a shitload of work waiting for me. So instead of moping about what could be, I accept my fate that I'll never see her again and get right to work—it's the only thing that can take my mind off her.