Chapter 9
Jules dropped me off at the estate’s entrance, the car’s headlights cutting through the darkness. I turned to face him, suddenly reluctant to leave his presence despite the violence I’d witnessed earlier.
“Thank you for today,” I said, my voice soft in the quiet car.
He smiled, the expression transforming his severe features into something almost boyish. “The pleasure was mine, Monica.”
When he leaned in to hug me goodbye, I caught his scent again–that subtle cologne mixed with something uniquely him. My body responded instinctively, leaning into his warmth.
“Would you like to come inside?” I asked, surprising myself with the invitation.
Jules pulled back, his eyes searching mine. “Not tonight. But I’ll wait here until you’re safely inside.”
“You don’t have to-”
“I do,” he said simply, and there was no arguing with the finality in his tone.
I nodded and stepped out of the car, feeling his gaze follow me as I walked toward the house. Before I reached the door, it swung open to reveal my father standing in the entryway, his silhouette backlit by the warm glow from inside.
“Monica!” He smiled broadly, but his eyes drifted past me to where Jules remained parked. Something passed between them–an acknowledgment, perhaps, or some silent communication I couldn’t decipher.
“How did it go?” Father asked, ushering me inside.
I couldn’t find the words to describe everything that had happened–the pleasant conversation, the attack, the killing, the strange car ride afterward. So I simply smiled, a small, secretive curve of my lips that apparently spoke volumes.
Father laughed, a knowing gleam in his eye. “That well, huh?” He patted my shoulder. “Get inside. I have some business with Mr. Jules here. I’ll meet you soon.”
Before I could protest, he was striding down the path toward Jules‘ car. I watched from the doorway as Jules stepped out to greet him, the two men shaking hands like old friends.
How did my father know Jules so well? And why did he seem to approve of him so completely, despite whatever Jules was involved in?
Mother appeared at my side, interrupting my thoughts. “Welcome home, darling. How was your day?”
“Eventful,” I managed, allowing her to guide me inside.
I headed upstairs to my room, my mind racing with questions about Jules and my father’s connection. One thing was certain–I needed answers, and the best way to get them was to stay close to Jules.
I pulled out a suitcase and began packing. Clothes, toiletries, a few books, my laptop. I’d told Jules I would stay with him, and I intended to keep my word, though for reasons that had shifted since our café meeting.
Chapter &
212
10.00
2:47 am
When I came downstairs with my luggage, I froze at the sight before me. Father was walking through the front door with Jules beside him, both men laughing about something.
“I thought you didn’t want to come in,” I said to Jules, unable to hide my surprise.
He chuckled, the sound warming something inside me. “Well, your father here managed to convince me.”
Mother appeared from the kitchen, her eyes widening at the sight of my packed bags. “Monica where are you going with all that luggage?”
I opened my mouth to explain, but Father cut in smoothly. “Sarah, Jules thought it would be great for them to live together until their marriage next month.” He winked at me. “You know kids these days–they need their own time and space.”
Mother smiled, looking between Jules and me with understanding. “I see.”
“Our daughter herself agreed,” Father continued, “so I don’t think there’s a problem. Looks like little Monica likes the man.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Father! I just think it’s practical to get to know each other better before the wedding,” I protested, but my flustered tone only made them all smile wider.
“Of course,” Mother said, not bothering to hide her amusement. “Practical.”
After saying our goodbyes–Mother hugging me tightly and whispering “Be careful” in my ear, Father giving Jules a meaningful look–we were finally in Jules‘ car again, my luggage loaded in
the trunk.
“You better not make me regret this,” I said as we pulled away from the estate.
Jules chuckled, his profile sharp against the passing streetlights. “I won’t.”
The drive was longer than I expected, taking us out of the city and into an exclusive neighborhood of sprawling estates. When we finally turned into a gated driveway, my jaw dropped.
The mansion before us was enormous–a modern palace of glass and stone, lit dramatically against the night sky. Fountains flanked the circular driveway, and manicured gardens stretchec
into the darkness.
“This is where you live?” I asked, unable to hide my astonishment.
“One of my homes,” Jules replied casually, pulling up to the entrance.
Before I could open my door, he was there, helping me out. Then, without warning, he scooped
me into his arms.
“What are you doing?” I gasped, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Carrying you,” he said simply, nodding to several uniformed staff who had appeared. “Get Miss Wells‘ luggage to her room,” he ordered.
“Jules, put me down! I can walk perfectly fine,” I protested as he carried me up the marble steps.
“You have stitches,” he replied, his grip firm and secure. “I don’t want you straining yourself.”
Despite my complaints, I couldn’t help admiring the effortless way he carried me through the grand foyer and up a sweeping staircase. His strength was impressive, his body warm against mine.
After showing me to a luxurious suite–larger than the entire apartment I’d shared with Hank- Jules left me to settle in. A maid helped me unpack and showed me to an en–suite bathroom with a tub big enough to swim in.
After a long soak, I selected a simple but elegant dress from the walk–in closet that was already stocked with clothes in my size. Another mystery to add to the growing list.
When I made my way downstairs for dinner, I found Jules waiting in a formal dining room. But he wasn’t alone.
A woman stood beside him–tall, elegant, perhaps in her forties. Her hair was pulled into a severe bun, her designer dress impeccable, her jewelry subtle but clearly expensive. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew her worth and expected others to recognize it too.
As I entered, her gaze swept over me from head to toe, her lips curling into a dismissive sneer. She turned to Jules with a look of utter disgust. “Seriously? This is her?”
I froze, shocked by the open hostility.
The woman’s perfectly manicured hand gestured toward me with contempt. “I’d rather pay a prostitute to dress up and pose as your wife for you.”
2:47 am GDD
