Anything He Wants: Castaway #2 (Anything He Wants 7) by Sara Fawkes

happened?” she asked again, enunciating every word.
    “Have you ever made a mistake so big, it feels like you’ll never get past it?”
    Something about her concerned look gave me my answer, that she was free of that burden. She still squeezed my hand, moving around so that she was in front of me. “Would you like me to call your men?” she asked, her tone serious.
    I barked a laugh at her phrasing. “No,” I said, the sudden humor too much right then. “No, I’m fine. This isn’t because of them.” A bold-faced lie, but it seemed to do the trick.
    “You didn’t kill somebody, did you?”
    I turned startled eyes to Amyrah. “No,” I said in a rush, and felt her relax.
    “Then whatever is wrong can be fixed, right?”
    But I was wrong, I realized. I might as well have killed love, at least when it came to Jeremiah Hamilton. Everything I knew about his history, the way he had looked at me the last few days, told me my news could shatter that inside him forever.
    Closing my eyes, I covered my mouth and focused on breathing normally. It took several deep breaths to calm my quaking lungs. Such a drama queen you are, Lucy Delacourt, I admonished myself, mortification settling over me like a blanket. I certainly had a high opinion of myself, thinking I had that much control over another man’s emotional well-being. Smoothing the hair from my face, I wiped my eyes hastily with the back of my hand and stood. “I’m sorry,” I said, balancing precariously. “I don’t know what came over me.”
    “Lucy,” Amyrah called as I turned to go. Biting my lip, I turned to look at the other girl. Concern and anxiety was written all over her face, and her hands were clenched tightly in front of her body. “If you need any help,” she said, “please let me know.”
    I gave a jerky nod, dashing away new tears that leaked from my eyes with one hand. “You do look gorgeous though,” I murmured, attempting a smile. Apparently I didn’t do a good job with the expression because the worry in her face deepened, but I couldn’t stay there any more. “I’ll call you soon,” I mumbled, then turned and left the room, heading straight for the front door.
    ––––––––
    I stood outside Jeremiah’s front door for several minutes before I finally got the nerve to give it a light rap. Really, it was barely more than a whisper, and I forced myself to knock harder a minute later. I didn’t want to be there and had no idea what I would say when the door opened, but was never given the chance to find out. The door remained closed, even after a third attempt, and the pressure around my heart decreased slightly as I turned toward my own room.
    Light streamed through the open windows, as bright as the desert sands we’d gone through the previous afternoon. Somewhere in the room came the faint hum of a fan, and the gossamer curtains across the window swayed in the small breeze produced. I leaned back against my door for a moment, allowing the nervous shaking in my legs to ease a bit, before moving further into the room.
    Reaching up, I pulled out the clip from my hair and let it fall in a tangle to my shoulders. A shower and nap sounded divine; my nerves could use the relief. I had already started unbuttoning my shirt, moving through the living room to the bathroom at the back of the suite, when I saw something nearby me move.
    I gave a startled squeaked, stumbling back against a nearby chair as Jeremiah rose to his feet from the couch beside me. He’d been sitting there the entire time, and I’d been so preoccupied that I hadn’t seen him. My heart racing, I leaned against the chair and placed my hand over my chest as he crossed the room, pausing to look outside. “Jeremiah,” I said breathlessly. “I was just...”
    “When,” he asked, his voice as cold as I’d ever heard, “were you going to tell me you fucked my brother?”

BONUS STORY
    “L ucas, please.”
    The plea rang inside Lucas’ head as he