Elevating Eve (Fairford Affairs #4)

11. Jonathan

CHAPTER 11

Jonathan

A fter their scene on the third floor, Eve fell deep into subspace. She remained conscious, but was in a dazed state, unable to move without his guidance, and though she occasionally spoke, it never made a whole lot of sense.

Rather than risk her taking a fall down the stairs, Jonathan scooped her into his arms, carrying her down to the master bedroom’s en suite bathroom. He drew a bath in the enormous soaking tub, pouring some lavender oil into the steaming water. With any luck, the relaxing scent would help her come back to herself while the water soothed her body.

Climbing into the enormous soaking tub with her in his arms, he settled with his back against the sloped side, nestling her between his legs. He stayed with her there, one arm wrapped around her stomach, the other gently stroking her arm.

At least twenty minutes passed before one of her hands fanned out, curling gracefully through the water. “What happened?” she asked, still a little dazed, but finally sounding like herself again.

“You slipped into subspace,” he explained, holding her closer against his chest.

“Subspace?” she repeated, muscles tensing. “What’s that?”

He kept forgetting how much of a novice she was to a true BDSM lifestyle. That asshole Talley had no fucking clue what he was doing, and just used BDSM to justify abusing her. “Subspace happens sometimes when a ton of endorphins flood your system during a scene. It’s almost like you go into a trance for a while.” After a moment, he added, “I’ve been told it feels really good. I hope you enjoyed it.”

The tension disappeared from her shoulders, and she relaxed back against him. “It felt like...” She trailed off as she searched for the right words. “Like I was floating. Like all the weight that’s been pushing down on me as long as I can remember just lifted away. It was amazing.”

His heart ached at her description—the weight pushing down on her. She deserved so much better than a life being crushed beneath unrelenting pressure.

Eve let out a huge yawn, slumping with exhaustion as soon as it finished.

“Come on, beautiful girl,” he said, standing and helping her to her feet. “Let’s get you to bed for a short nap. I have so many more plans for you this weekend, and I want you awake enough to enjoy them.”

In response, she gave him a sleepy smile, looking him up and down as he helped her step out of the tub. “Ha, I win. I got to see you naked even though I didn’t earn it.”

Christ, she was adorable. Chuckling, Jonathan brushed a fingertip across the bruise already forming around her throat. “Trust me, you earned it.”

An hour later, Jonathan sat in the old, gray armchair in the corner. He had his laptop balanced across his thighs and had made at least a cursory attempt at reviewing some paperwork Lainey emailed him that morning.

He couldn’t concentrate worth a damn, though. Giving up altogether, he silently closed the screen, looking across the room at the woman sleeping in the center of the king-size bed. Her long hair fanned out around her, appearing black in the dim light—all except those vibrant red streaks. The ice pack he’d gotten to soothe the pain in her throat lay abandoned on the corner of the mattress .

This remarkable creature was his girlfriend . It still blew his mind. Even before he and the others founded Fairford Manor, he never dated—not exclusively anyway. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, exactly. More like he’d just never found the time, his focus always zeroed in on something else.

First his education, where he’d done everything in his power to become valedictorian in high school, and then to graduate summa cum laude from college. He succeeded in both cases. Then came founding and running HSS Biotech, growing it from a tiny startup to a company that sold for just over a billion dollars seven years later.

And lastly, the Manor. His dream...the project of his heart. The impossible idea that came to him after a few too many tequila shots one night their senior year of college, which he’d somehow turned into a reality.

He’d built exactly the life he always wanted. But it wasn’t until Eve called herself his girlfriend that he realized just how lonely it was, no matter how many people surrounded him every day, and most every night. For the first time, he thought maybe he wanted what the others had.

Leo and Sophie. Aiden and Olivia. Rafe and Nell. Mason and Addison. Zach and Remy.

And, of course, his parents. The single most perfect, loving couple he’d ever seen.

For the life of him, though, he couldn’t figure out how any of them did it. How was he supposed to run the Manor, regularly take guests, solve everyone’s problems for them, and still maintain a healthy relationship with this beautiful, fragile creature?

Standing, he tread softly across the floor, easing the door open and then back closed behind him. Eve didn’t stir the entire time. Relieved, he hurried down the stairs and into the great room, settling onto the old, well-worn couch.

Jonathan got his phone out of his pocket, quickly pulling up his favorites list. His thumb hovered over Leo’s name for several seconds, but ultimately, he hit Dad instead.

Orson Hale answered on the first ring. “Jonathan!” he said in greeting, his usually loud voice even higher in volume than normal. A lot of background noise filtered through the phone—loud voices and even louder music. “How are you?”

Instead of answering the question, he asked, “Where are you? It sounds loud as hell.”

“Your mom and I are in San Diego for a Padres-Rockies game,” he explained, sounding excited. “It’s going to be hard rooting against the Rockies, but as the song says, root for the home team. We’re hanging out at a bar near the ballpark until the gates open.”

A smile found its way onto Jonathan’s face. His parents had always loved baseball and had season tickets to both their favorite teams, since they spent so much time going between the two houses every summer. He had endless memories of attending games with them as a kid. “I don’t want to be a bother?—”

“No bother,” Orson interrupted, his voice full of sincerity. “Let me just step outside for a minute.” Muffled sounds came through the line as he made his way through what was clearly a crowded bar, lessening considerably when he finally made it outside. “There we go. That better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

“Good, good.” His dad chuckled. “I didn’t mind all this craziness when I was younger, but I think I’m getting a little too old for this. But your mom insisted we come into town early.”

Jonathan laughed, having no trouble picturing his mom dragging his dad to the car, her shoulder-length blond hair tucked up under a Padre’s cap. The woman reveled in the pre-game energy of the bars near the ballpark.

“So what’s up?” Orson asked.

“I’m hoping to get your advice on something.”

“Is something wrong?” His voice had lost that jovial, laughing tone. “You don’t sound too happy.”

Jonathan thought about that for a second before he answered. “No, nothing’s wrong. And I am happy. Maybe too happy? I don’t know. It just feels like...like it can’t possibly last. Does that make sense?”

His dad’s chuckle came through the phone again. “Not even a little bit. You’re going to have to give me some details here.”

For a second, Jonathan considered saying never mind and ending the call. He was getting himself all worked up over nothing. All he had to do was enjoy the ride as he waited to see where this went.

Only problem with that was, sitting back and letting go of the controls came as naturally to Jonathan as breathing underwater.

“I’ve just started dating this woman,” he forced himself to say. “And I’m really out of my depth here. I have no idea how to be in a relationship.”

Orson didn’t make a sound for so long, Jonathan would’ve thought the call dropped if he couldn’t hear the bustle of the street. When at last he spoke, something like wonder filled his voice. “Are you telling me that you have a girlfriend?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad, I have a girlfriend.”

“Holy shit, did hell freeze over? Is the antichrist walking among us? Hold on.” Scuffing sounds came through the line, soon joined by the bar music. “Lucy! Lucy! Come over here!”

“For God’s sake, Dad,” Jonathan grumbled, already regretting every choice in his life that brought him to this horrifying moment. One corner of his mouth moved up all on its own, despite his embarrassment.

Next thing Jonathan knew, his dad had put the phone on speaker, heightening the background noise. “What?” his mom asked, worry in her tone. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Orson assured her. “It’s Jonathan on the phone. Tell her what you just told me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jonathan growled out, still fighting a smile.

“Oh, come on.” His dad sounded like he was practically bouncing up and down with excitement. “Just tell her.”

With another mighty roll of the eyes, he said, “Hi, Mom. Dad wants me to tell you that I have a girlfriend.”

Lucy’s shriek was so loud, he had to jerk the phone away from his ear. “I swear to God, if you two are playing a trick on me, I’ll burn the pumpkin pie at every Thanksgiving until the day I die.”

Jonathan laughed. He couldn’t help it. “It’s not a trick. I promise. Her name is Eve.”

When his mother shrieked again, it didn’t deafen him like last time, because he anticipated her reaction and pulled the phone away from his ear.

“Jesus, Mom, it’s not that big a deal.” Even as he said it, he knew it was bullshit.

“Jonathan Orson Hale, I gave up on you ever settling down long ago. At your own insistence, I might add. So do not try to tell me this is no big deal.” A second later, she shouted, “My son has a girlfriend!” Drunken cheers answered this mortifying announcement, and he realized his mom had opened the bar door and yelled inside.

Thank fuck they were having this conversation on the phone. If he was there in San Diego with them, he might have dropped dead on the spot.

Orson’s laugh had a nervous edge to it. “Why don’t you head back inside and celebrate with everyone? We can call Jonathan in the morning to hear more about his new girl.”

This idea clearly appealed to Lucy. “I’m happy for you, sweetheart!” she half-yelled into the phone. “Talk to you soon! Love you!” The bar music reappeared for a few seconds before thankfully fading away again.

“Sorry about that,” his dad said, sounding equal parts amused and genuinely apologetic. “These twenty-two-year-olds from La Mesa have been buying her shots for the last hour.”

Laughing again, Jonathan said, “Of course they have.” His mother had the kind of magnetic personality that drew people to her. She was always making new friends in bars or on vacations.

“So you finally found a girl who could turn even your head.” Orson whistled long and low. “She must be really special.”

“She is.” An understatement if ever there was one. “And I don’t want to fuck this up. Since you and Mom are the best couple I know, I hoped you’d be able to give me some advice.”

“My little boy all grown up and asking for dating advice,” Orson said, sniffling dramatically. “I never thought this day would come.”

Jonathan shook his head. “Dad, I’m thirty-eight,” he said in the deadest, most unamused voice he could muster. “I’ve been all grown up for a very long time.”

“Nope. You’re not taking this moment away from me.” More over- the-top sniffling came through the phone. “I’ve been patiently waiting for this moment since you hit puberty. Let me enjoy it.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Thank you.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Okay, you’ve had your moment. Get on with the advice giving.”

“So bossy,” Orson complained, though he sounded amused rather than upset. “I’m not one of your guests who you can order around, you know.”

Snorting, Jonathan said, “Duly noted.”

“All right, all right.” He sounded more serious at last. “I’ll stop torturing you. You came to the right place. I’m going to give you the best relationship advice you’re ever going to get. Though it’s maybe not as profound as you’re hoping.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Communication and honesty.”

Jonathan waited for him to say more, but the silence stretched on for several seconds. “That’s it?”

“Son, if you have those two things down pat, the rest is easy.” When he continued, he’d adopted a warning tone. “But you can’t go partway on these. You have to be all in. I know that’s never come easily to you.”

Jonathan frowned at that. “I’m an excellent communicator.” He’d run two successful businesses, for fuck’s sake. How could he have accomplished that if he had poor communication skills?

“You’re excellent at communicating exactly what you want other people to know.” Orson said it kindly, but it was clear he wouldn’t accept any arguments about this. “You need to learn how to communicate the rest of it—the parts you keep all to yourself.”

It took three tries for Jonathan to swallow down the lump in his throat. “Got it.”

“The honesty part is probably pretty self-explanatory,” Orson said, and Jonathan was grateful for the subject change. “Without trust, love is impossible to sustain. Figure out some way to make sure you can completely trust each other. Knowing you can believe what your partner says no matter what makes all the difference in the world, believe me.”

“What do you mean, figure out a way? Figure it out how?”

Orson clicked his tongue a few times—something he often did when thinking hard. “When we first got together, your mom and I had a word we’d say when one of us thought the other one was lying. It basically meant, this is really important, so tell me the truth no matter what. We both swore we’d never lie if the other person said that word, and neither of us ever did.” He made a disappointed sound. “I can’t remember what the word was. It’s been over forty years since we’ve had to use it. Maybe she’ll remember.”

So there it was. The key to a forty-three-year marriage—communication and honesty.

It felt so simple. Too simple. Like those two things couldn’t possibly solve every problem that came their way.

But it would sure be a great place to start.

“Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure. Now I’d better get back in there before your mother starts dancing on the bar. Love you.”

Jonathan smiled at the image of his sixty-eight-year-old mother dancing on a bar. It wasn’t at all difficult to imagine. “Love you, too.”