Chapter 6: No Going Back

This summer storm is even harder to deal with than my boss.

Bosses can be reasoned with. This was something else entirely—a force of nature, unpredictable and wild.

Liking him is wrong, not liking him is also wrong.

It was a no-win situation. I couldn’t see a way out that didn’t end with someone getting hurt.

Who knows where he heard about my engagement—he was furious on the spot.

Word traveled fast in the mansion, especially when it wasn’t supposed to. I’d barely said the word ‘fiancé’ before he was up in arms.

He threw open the door and shouted, “I’m going to the governor right now to accuse you of breaking into the private quarters and having an affair with me—a felony!”

The threat echoed down the hallway, sending a flock of birds scattering from the magnolia trees outside. I lunged after him, panic flooding my veins.

I was so scared I rushed over and clamped a hand over his mouth. “Keep your voice down—do you think this is something to brag about?”

His breath was warm against my palm. I dragged him back inside, heart racing, praying no one heard.

I dragged him back inside and tried to calm him down, explaining that Natalie and I were just a fake couple.

I lowered my voice, pleading for him to listen. "It’s not real—it’s just paperwork. I’m not leaving you."

“So what if I like you? You’re just a man, you can’t carry on the Foster family name. I’m not young anymore, no one cares about me, and people gossip behind my back—do you think I feel good?”

The words spilled out in a rush. My chest ached with the weight of it—years of loneliness, of pretending, of wanting something I could never have.

Seeing the summer storm finally calm down, I kept playing the pitiful card.

I hunched my shoulders, voice trembling, hoping pity might work where logic had failed.

“You’re the governor’s golden boy—the one everyone stares at and nobody touches. No matter how much I like you, I can only dream of you.”

I let my words hang in the air, hoping he’d understand that some dreams are just too dangerous to chase.

I lowered myself, acting every bit the humble, honest guy.

I was good at playing small. It was the only thing that kept me safe all these years.

He finally quieted down and stopped threatening to accuse me.

His shoulders relaxed, and he let out a shaky breath. The fight had gone out of him—for now.

I secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

My knees felt weak. I leaned against the wall, letting the adrenaline drain away.

I should follow Derek’s advice and slowly break things off. Otherwise, if the governor really finds out, I’ll be toast.

The risk was too high. Still, I couldn’t seem to let go.

After a long silence, he spoke bitterly: “You keep saying you like me, but I’ve never seen anyone like you. You don’t ask my name, don’t ask what I like. Every day, you just come, patch me up, and leave. If I hadn’t transferred you to my side, you’d probably never see me again.”

His words stung. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was too afraid to want more.

Who says I never asked? I’d already had Jamie dig up some information.

I’d done my homework—quietly, from a distance, like always. It was easier to learn from the shadows.

I lowered my head, staring at the red birthmark on his wrist, and softly said, “Your name is Jamie Lane, from the South. You like light food and subtle candles. After your afternoon naps, you like to stroll by the lily pond and tease the fat fish. At night, you can’t sleep and like to drink whiskey and enjoy the cool air.”

My voice trembled, but I made myself meet his eyes. I wanted him to know I saw him—not just the myth, but the man behind the storm.

Some of this I learned from Jamie, some I’d observed myself while sneaking into the Magnolia Wing.

I watched for the smallest details—how he moved, what made him smile, the way he leaned into the light.

Jamie tapped my hand with his fan.

He used it like a conductor’s baton, light and teasing. The touch sent a shiver up my arm.

I turned my hand and caught the fan, following the handle up to his wrist.

Our fingers brushed, hesitant but hungry for more. The room felt charged, like the air before a tornado.

He frowned at me.

There was a question in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe even hope.

Seeing he didn’t pull away, I grew bolder and held his hand.

His fingers curled around mine—tentative, but real. For the first time, I didn’t pull away.