𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞

12 | black eye

As I pressed a warm, wet towel against the sensitive skin beneath his eye, Jameson winced.

"I'd be sorry," I said, "but you brought this on yourself."

Earlier tonight, while the President had taken me aside, Jameson had decided that he was going to punch his son in the chest. The only logic he gave me was that the bruise wouldn't be visible.

However, David's response surely had been.

A punch to the face, and just below one of Jameson's beautiful green eyes.

"He's lucky I didn't shred his lungs," Jameson growled.

I couldn't help my smile.

From what President Goodwin had implied, David was fascinated with me. Although probably not in a good way, Jameson had taken it upon himself to defend his right as my boyfriend.

As I held the towel to his skin, I kissed the side of his jaw. "Do you regret it?"

"No."

"You're lucky you're not in jail."

He might've been, had the president not been understanding of his son's idiotic behavior. Instead, he'd promised to ridicule his son and left me with the responsibility of ridiculing Jameson.

But what was I to do?

Nothing stopped Jameson Hawthorne from being Jameson Hawthorne.

Especially when it came to protecting me.

As we settled in for the night, I coaxed a pain pill into his mouth. Only once I'd switched off the lamps on the bedside tables did Jameson take me into his arms.

"Heiress," he murmured into the darkness. "Are you okay?"

"Why is the one with the black eye asking me if I'm okay?" I tried to laugh alongside my comment but felt bile pool in my chest.

"Because he scared you," he said. "Didn't he?"

"The president?"

"No. His son." Jameson pressed his lips against the curve of my jaw. "I felt you shaking when he sat down next to you."

Because I know he won't drop the subject, I admit, "Yes. He scared me."

Jameson wound an arm around my waist and shifted us so we were chest-to-chest. Pressing his lips against my ear, he murmured, "I wouldn't have let him touch you."

"I know."

"Do you?" Jameson forced me to meet his eyes. Even in the dark, his eyes were striking and emerald. "Do you know that I'll never let another man lay a finger on you?"

"David didn't touch me, Jameson."

"That isn't my point, Heiress."

I felt my arms tremble. A tear slipped down my cheek without my consent.

Although tonight had been a meager example, ever since my rise to fame, I'd experienced similar things.

People following me down the street. Particularly men. Stalkers. Trollers on the internet.

As strong as I appeared to the public, I was still just an eighteen-year old girl. And I was vulnerable, as much as I hated to admit it.

Jameson held me as the silent tears came.

"Heiress?"

I met his eyes, my lower lip trembling.

"I'd sooner jump in front of a train," he murmured, "than see someone hurt you."

Somehow, his words made me want to cry harder. I didn't, but instead wrapped my arms around his torso.

"I'll do everything in my power," he said, "to keep you safe. Okay?"

After my tears subsided, I whispered, "Okay."