“I’m not Grayson,” he told you, ravaged by the words.

“I don’t want you to be,” you said, pleading- for what, you weren't even sure.

“Yes, you do,” Jameson insisted quietly. “And it doesn’t even matter because I’m not putting on a show here, Heiress. I’m not playing at being overprotective or pretending that, for once in my life, I want to do the right thing.” He brought his hands to the side of your face, then the back of your neck, and you felt his touch through every square inch of your body. “I love you. I would die to protect you. I would make you hate me to keep you safe because damn it, (yn)- some things are too precious to gamble.”