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Authors: Michele Bardsley
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had been worsening every second. It ached so badly now, I just wanted to pop some Advil and go to bed. I resisted the urge to touch the wounded flesh again. I had no idea what would soothe a bite, but suddenly I was glad Jarred had called Dr. Ruthers. Surely the physician had some magical ointment that would fix me.
“You will continue to work for me,” said Jarred. “Or you’ll have to deal with the legalities of walking away from your obligations.”
I felt the blood drain out of my face. I’d agreed to three years as administrator and head therapist in exchange for Jarred paying off my debts, a generous salary, and this luxury apartment. “You would sue me for breach of contract,” I said flatly.
“As a start.”
I tamped down my anger. Jarred was probably expecting me to get upset, so I tossed aside my impulse to tell him to take a flying leap, and tried to appeal to his sense of reason. “We both know I’m not cut out for this job. The staff doesn’t respect me. The patients don’t trust me. Sven thinks I’m an idiot. And you have the gall to believe that I’ll fall into bed with you because you’re rich and smart and handsome.”
“What’s wrong with those qualities?” he asked, ignoring everything else I’d said.
“When you can buy anything, or anyone, then nothing truly has worth. How can you cherish what you hold, Jarred, when you did nothing more than pay for it?”
He didn’t look away from me, but he didn’t respond right away, apparently mulling over my words. Then he shrugged. “It’s the way my world works. Everyone, and everything, has a price. One I can always pay.”
“I suppose that’s true. There’s no doubt you bought me,” I said. “But you don’t own me. Every female within a hundred miles would warm your bed tonight, but in the morning, what would you have left?”
“Some very good memories.”
“I don’t want to be someone’s very good memory,” I said softly. “Is that all you aspire to, Jarred?”
He didn’t answer, and though I still wasn’t getting any real vibes off him, I believed I glimpsed into his soul—maybe just a teeny-tiny bit. What Jarred was seeking, either through his work, this clinic, me, or that fancy brandy of his, he would not find. He wanted what we all wanted, what we all sought from each other on a daily basis. Connection. If we were lucky, we found our equal, the partner who balanced our weaknesses with their strengths, who offered us companionship and faith and security.
Jarred Dante wanted love.
“You look pale,” he said. I detected the barest whisper of concern in his words.
It was as if his words sparked the reaction. Cold rushed through me, followed by a wave of prickling heat. My knees buckled, and he caught me. I stared at him, wide-eyed. “I don’t feel well.”
The room started to spin, and I clutched Jarred’s arms, trying to right myself. Instead, I tumbled into the awful vortex. I spun and spun … away from the light, the room, the man holding me … and into the thick, cloying darkness.
Down, down, down into the rabbit hole once again.
Chapter 3
“Y ou were quite unexpected.”
The woman’s lilting voice drew me out of the spinning dark. When I opened my eyes, I stood within a circle of trees so tall that their myriad thick branches nearly blotted out the moon overhead. Lights glimmered among the branches, and I had no doubt the flickering dots were fireflies—and there were certainly a lot of them. I wore a blue dress of the sort I associated with Greek goddesses, my hair loose and flowing over my shoulders. I clutched the soft fabric in my hands, wondering at the significance of being dressed in such a manner.
Before me, sitting on a throne carved out of beautiful polished wood was a woman so gorgeous, she couldn’t be real. She had long black hair that coiled in tight ringlets down to her waist. Her skin was as pale as cream, her features refined and delicate. Her dress was a dark blue satin,
“You will continue to work for me,” said Jarred. “Or you’ll have to deal with the legalities of walking away from your obligations.”
I felt the blood drain out of my face. I’d agreed to three years as administrator and head therapist in exchange for Jarred paying off my debts, a generous salary, and this luxury apartment. “You would sue me for breach of contract,” I said flatly.
“As a start.”
I tamped down my anger. Jarred was probably expecting me to get upset, so I tossed aside my impulse to tell him to take a flying leap, and tried to appeal to his sense of reason. “We both know I’m not cut out for this job. The staff doesn’t respect me. The patients don’t trust me. Sven thinks I’m an idiot. And you have the gall to believe that I’ll fall into bed with you because you’re rich and smart and handsome.”
“What’s wrong with those qualities?” he asked, ignoring everything else I’d said.
“When you can buy anything, or anyone, then nothing truly has worth. How can you cherish what you hold, Jarred, when you did nothing more than pay for it?”
He didn’t look away from me, but he didn’t respond right away, apparently mulling over my words. Then he shrugged. “It’s the way my world works. Everyone, and everything, has a price. One I can always pay.”
“I suppose that’s true. There’s no doubt you bought me,” I said. “But you don’t own me. Every female within a hundred miles would warm your bed tonight, but in the morning, what would you have left?”
“Some very good memories.”
“I don’t want to be someone’s very good memory,” I said softly. “Is that all you aspire to, Jarred?”
He didn’t answer, and though I still wasn’t getting any real vibes off him, I believed I glimpsed into his soul—maybe just a teeny-tiny bit. What Jarred was seeking, either through his work, this clinic, me, or that fancy brandy of his, he would not find. He wanted what we all wanted, what we all sought from each other on a daily basis. Connection. If we were lucky, we found our equal, the partner who balanced our weaknesses with their strengths, who offered us companionship and faith and security.
Jarred Dante wanted love.
“You look pale,” he said. I detected the barest whisper of concern in his words.
It was as if his words sparked the reaction. Cold rushed through me, followed by a wave of prickling heat. My knees buckled, and he caught me. I stared at him, wide-eyed. “I don’t feel well.”
The room started to spin, and I clutched Jarred’s arms, trying to right myself. Instead, I tumbled into the awful vortex. I spun and spun … away from the light, the room, the man holding me … and into the thick, cloying darkness.
Down, down, down into the rabbit hole once again.
Chapter 3
“Y ou were quite unexpected.”
The woman’s lilting voice drew me out of the spinning dark. When I opened my eyes, I stood within a circle of trees so tall that their myriad thick branches nearly blotted out the moon overhead. Lights glimmered among the branches, and I had no doubt the flickering dots were fireflies—and there were certainly a lot of them. I wore a blue dress of the sort I associated with Greek goddesses, my hair loose and flowing over my shoulders. I clutched the soft fabric in my hands, wondering at the significance of being dressed in such a manner.
Before me, sitting on a throne carved out of beautiful polished wood was a woman so gorgeous, she couldn’t be real. She had long black hair that coiled in tight ringlets down to her waist. Her skin was as pale as cream, her features refined and delicate. Her dress was a dark blue satin,
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