Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“And no,” he says against my lips, “I haven’t been on a date or spent a single second with anyone else since you left me.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were going to.”
“I really wasn’t.”
“You wanted to know.”
“Maybe.”
He kisses me again.
“And I never fucking will.”
I pull back just enough to look at him.
“That sounds dangerously close to a promise.”
“It is.”
“You have a pretty good record with those.”
“Perfect, actually.”
I smile, knowing exactly what he means.
Then I glance down at the bouquet trapped between us.
“You’re ruining my flowers.”
“I’ll buy you more.”
“I rejected all the other ones.”
“I know.”
“And you kept sending them.”
“I know.”
“What made you think I’d eventually take them?”
He looks down at me.
“The same thing that made me take your father’s case.”
“Your ego?”
“My inability to accept no as a final verdict.”
I laugh. “That was terrible.”
“You liked it.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“Another lie.”
“The worst one?”
“Not even close.”
He kisses my forehead, then takes my hand and starts leading me away from the theater.
“Where are we going?”
“To celebrate.”
“My show?”
“Your show. Your return to New York.” He glances at me. “Us.”
I squeeze his hand.
“Jameson?”
“Yes, Scarlett?”
“If I change my mind about New York someday, you know you can’t stop me, right?”
“I know.”
“And if I want to take another role in California?”
“I’ll buy a house here.”
“If I want to spend my twenties traveling?”
“I have a passport.”
“And if I want to stay single for a while and date other people?”
He stops walking.
I bite back a smile.
“Why would you want to waste years experiencing disappointment?”
I laugh as he pulls me against him again.
“You’re still incredibly arrogant.”
“And you’re still the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
I wrap my arms around his neck.
“Because you’ll always know when I mean this.”
“Mean what?”
I kiss him once.
“I love you, Jameson.”
For once, he doesn’t have a sarcastic response.
He just looks at me.
Then he kisses me like he has all the time in the world.
And this time, neither of us has anywhere else to be.
End of Episode 3
—
ELEVEN MONTHS LATER
JAMESON
Sons of Lucas Hunter Take Plea Deals to Testify Against Him
Lucas Hunter Faces Up to 50 Years in Prison
The Facade of Lucas Hunter: How His Not-So-Perfect Empire Crumbled
—
SCARLETT
Jameson
I should be back in Manhattan tonight in time for your show.
Good luck. (Accept my rose delivery)
Thank you. (I already did.)
Rain pours over Pennsylvania’s capitol as I jump out of a cab and race toward the courthouse, splashing through every puddle along the way.
My umbrella gives up halfway across the street, and by the time I reach the courthouse steps, the bottom of my dress is soaked and my heels are making an embarrassing squeaking sound.
I can’t believe Jameson thought I would want to miss this moment with him.
I rush through security and follow the growing sound of reporters down the hall, where camera crews are stationed outside the courtroom and journalists are fighting for space near the doors.
A giant television screen above them flashes the same headline over and over.
JAMESON TATE SR. EXPECTED TO WALK FREE TODAY
I stop long enough to read it twice, my heart swelling at the thought of Jameson finally seeing those words after twenty-eight years of fighting for them.
I start toward the courtroom again, but Peter Hansel catches my attention.
He’s standing alone near the wall, running a hand through his hair, looking nothing like the bestselling author whose face was plastered across a dozen screens the night I met him.
There’s no long line of readers waiting for his autograph or assistants hovering nearby, and the reporters seem far more interested in getting inside the courtroom than talking to him.
“Good morning.” I smile.
“Is it?”
“Yes.” I glance at the headline above us. “An innocent man gets out of prison today.”
“Unfortunately, your boyfriend won’t be taking his place.”
“You should be grateful you’re not taking his place, Mr. Hansel.”
His eyes narrow, and he steps closer. “Do you have any idea what this does to my reputation? My book sales?”
“No, but I hope it’s far worse than anything I could ever imagine.”
His jaw clenches.
“Have a good morning.” I smile again and move past him before he can respond.
The courtroom is already packed when I step inside, with reporters filling every seat in the back rows and several people standing along the walls.
I barely manage to find an empty spot before the doors are locked behind me.
Jameson is sitting beside his father at the defense table, looking perfectly composed in one of his usual suits, but the second he looks over his shoulder and sees me, he arches a brow.
I wanted to come, I mouth.
His lips curve into a smile before he turns around.
“All rise for the Honorable Judge Harris!” the bailiff announces.
The cameramen in the room adjust their lenses, and the reporters lean in closer after the judge sits on the bench.
She flips open a file and looks straight at Jameson’s father, her eyes locked on his.
There’s an entire protocol that’s supposed to happen—statements, the case number reading, and a welcome to everyone here today. But with every second that passes, it’s becoming obvious that she won’t be following the script.