Take Me - A Bad Boy Steals a Bride Romance by Layla Valentine

Author:Layla Valentine [Valentine, Layla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-05-22T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The next two days went by in a blur of paperwork, meetings, free lunches, and sleepless nights. But now the morning of the ceremony was here. Jada was still confused and put off by Jackson’s strange behavior. She never did let go of a grudge easily—a bad habit her mother loved to point out any chance she could. What was even stranger, however, was that at some point Jada had apparently retrieved the sketch from her desk and taken it home.

The image of her boss was now propped up against the wall on her nightstand. It stared at her as she slept, changed, and woke in the morning. Why had she put it there? Jada had no clue. At least none that she wanted to explore further. In her mind, though, the image was a living, breathing man who acted like he had the other day and enjoyed his free time spent with her, with only her.

It was definitely a problem.

Back at home, relaxing in bed with blue eyes staring at her, Jada’s mind was a swimming pool of conflicting thoughts, emotions, and unacknowledged feelings. Evelyn had called the night before to let her know a limo would be waiting for her outside her apartment the next morning. Her usual tone of disgust had colored her voice even over the phone.

Sleep had not come that night, and instead Jada lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, taking momentary breaks to stare at the sketch that haunted her bedside. The logical half of her was furious, kicking the inside of Jada’s skull in an attempt to knock some sense into her. Unfortunately, the less rational side of her was thinking of Jackson’s—or Edmund’s—words, and the way his lips had looked when they’d been so close to her face. The heat of his body, the strength of his arms, the changes she’d seen in him, and the way he’d opened up—it was all a choking mess surrounding her body.

As morning broke and Jada dressed, the black car Evelyn had informed her about, and its French driver, arrived outside. Jada’s heart thundered, and she couldn’t tell if it was from excitement, frustration, or an imminent heart attack.

Jada had been instructed to bring a small bag of clothes and necessities—which seemed strange considering there wasn’t going to be a honeymoon—and all her important identification information for the wedding license. The bag was easy enough to put together, but Jada really had to search for her passport, birth certificate, and proof of residence.

The last time she’d used her passport, it had been for a girls’ weekend in Mexico with a bunch of women from the office. That trip had served to instill in her the knowledge that tequila was an evil, evil drug. God, there’d even been pictures, and her team hadn’t let her live it down for months.

Overall, the papers and clothing all seemed like overkill, and Jada was getting more frustrated with each passing minute that she wasn’t given more information.

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