Third Debt (Indebted #4)(37)

There was love between us; there was a story about connection beneath all the fakery. If only love was enough, I could be free. Jethro could be free. It could all be over if only love was stronger than debts.

“That was some kiss. Hot with a capital H.” George laughed, fanning himself. “I can see why your brother wouldn’t want you anywhere near Mr. Hawk, Ms. Weaver.”

My tummy flipped. “Why?”

Jethro stiffened, paying strict attention.

George grabbed a tripod from his duffel. “I have a younger sister myself and if I saw her kissing a man like that, I would want to break them up, too.”

Sylvie frowned, asking the question floating around in my head. “But why? It’s a dream come true for any woman to have such a compatible partner.”

George snorted, waving at Jethro and me with his camera. “Maybe women see it different, but from a guy’s point of view, I know what I just witnessed, and it scares me.”

Jethro cleared his throat, his natural intensity suffocating the room with power. “Explain. I’m not quite following.”

George rolled his eyes. “Come on. You don’t get it? Passion is incredibly dangerous if it’s not respected and you two…” He shrugged. “Forget it. I’m overstepping. All I mean is chemistry like that can’t be contained. It can bring great happiness but also destroy.”

A shiver ran down my spine. His words sounded oddly prophetic.

Dragging his tripod over to the window bay, he clapped his hands. “Now, Ms. Weaver, if you wouldn’t mind standing here. I want a picture of you with your diamond necklace in the sunshine.”

For some reason, my feet remained planted on the carpet. What did he mean? That Jethro and I were freaks of nature governed by sex and nothing else? That we were idiots in a game we didn’t understand?

George came toward me and manhandled me over to the window. “Perfect. Stand right there.” His fingers slipped into my hair, fluffing the now dried strands, then brushed a powder over my brow and cheekbones that magically appeared from nowhere. “I don’t know many women who look as stunning as you do without makeup.”

I had no reply as he backed away and clicked a few test images, moving the tripod around until he was happy.

Passion is incredibly dangerous if it’s not respected.

“If you could gather your hair to show off the choker?” George paused. “By the way, what does the choker symbolise? Were the rumours right that it portrays ownership…a wedding ring if you were?”

I opened my mouth to reply—with what, I had no idea—but Jethro jumped in. “It’s a Hawk family heirloom. It’s given to the woman who bewitches the first Hawk.”

“Bewitches, that’s an interesting word.” Chuckling to himself, George turned his attention back on me.

Did I bewitch him?

My eyes drifted to Jethro as I cascaded black hair over my shoulder and angled my neck so the diamonds caught the sunlight. Instantly, rainbows drenched the carpet around my feet.

Jethro sucked in a breath, his hands fisting by his sides.

If what George said was true…did I have more power than I realised? Did that mean Jethro had more control over me than I thought? Passion can be dangerous… I already tried to rule him with sex—but what if it worked both ways? Had I dug myself into this hole without even realising it?

Too many questions. And really, answers wouldn’t help. I would still be in the same situation.

“Give me a half smile. Look mysterious,” George commanded, ducking to take angled pictures.

I pouted and preened, doing my best to come across secretive and coy.

If I was running out of time, I meant to be talked about for years after my death. I wanted to be known as the woman who brought down an empire—even if I had to sacrifice my life to do it.

A macabre thought made me swallow a laugh.

I’m living a real life Romeo and Juliet saga. Montague and Capulets, fighting an ancient battle. Would it end like that tragic tale, too?

Five minutes later, George had taken a gazillion pictures and grabbed his tripod. “Before we go, we would appreciate some photographs with the two of you outside.”

Sylvie packed up the gear and made her way to the exit. “We’d love a tour as well, if that would be possible?”

Jethro drifted close to me, stealing my hand. My heart stuttered. I couldn't stop the overheating prickle of his skin against mine.

“I’m afraid the Hall is undergoing some renovations currently. Very few rooms are useable.”

There were no renovations. Just lots and lots of things to hide.

Smiling to soften the blow of his rejection, Jethro added, “But I’m more than happy to invite you back when Nila has finished her wedding gown and you can see it then.” His fingers squeezed tighter around mine in a silent reproof at my earlier comment.

Looking down, he gave me a calculating look. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

I nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

If I’m still alive.

“Follow us to the gardens.” Jethro strode past George and Sylvie, dragging me with him. His long legs ate up the corridor, putting a couple of metres between us and our entourage.

Once out of hearing distance, he whispered harshly, “You’re doing very well so far, Ms. Weaver. I’m impressed. However, if I were you, I’d stop overstepping boundaries.”