For The One (Gaming The System Book 5)

by Brenna Aubrey

  Our relationship had flared, burning bright and hot for a short period of time. It had blinded us. Blinded me from reality. And now here I was sitting in a cold church halfway around the world, pondering if I’d ever see him again.

  My sister was a beautiful bride. The morning of the big day, our aunt fixed her hair and make-up, and afterward, we helped Maja into her exquisite dress. When Baba’s tiara was placed on Maja’s head beneath the veil, it gleamed in her dark hair.

  But damned if I couldn’t look at that tiara and not think of William and all he had done to get it back for me. The emotions clamped around my throat, choking me as I dressed in my own beautiful gown to stand up with my sister.

  I wore seashell pink satin and was the only bridesmaid, with our little cousin wearing a darker shade of pink and acting as the flower girl. As we walked to the church—a short distance down the street—neighbors called out their well wishes, and I held up Maja’s train to keep it clean.

  Several hours, and one very thorough wedding mass later, Maja and Sanjin were husband and wife. And I was exhausted. After handing my sister her bouquet, they began to walk back down the aisle and everyone clapped and cheered.

  I immediately fell into the nearest pew to take a load off my feet. The guests had all been able to sit down during the mass, whereas I’d had to stand and kneel repeatedly.

  From the pew, I lifted my head to stare at the painted murals on the ceiling of the church while it emptied of people. I’d join them in a few minutes, after I’d had a chance to catch my breath.

  “Janjica? Are you coming?” Mama asked.

  I continued to stare at the ceiling. “Yes, I’ll catch up. Go, enjoy! And make sure you get in some of the pictures, Mama!”

  She grumbled something about not wanting photographs taken of her and then turned and followed the remaining stragglers. Just as I heard her nearing the exit, I sat up suddenly, remembering that I’d left my gift in a bag at home.

  I turned. “Mama, can you—?”

  I froze, certain my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was a tall, handsome man standing behind Mama who was a dead ringer for William. Though I knew it was some sort of illusion, my heart started palpitating anyway.

  Mama turned to follow my gaze and then looked back at me with questions all over her face. “Do you know him?” she asked.

  “I think so…” I squinted, hoping that would provide some clarity. “I’ll be along…I promise.”

  The man—William, it had to be William—watched Mama walk out of the church before shifting his gaze back toward me. When his hands began rubbing down over the material of his thighs, my throat tightened.

  I moved toward him at the same moment he approached me. The stone floor echoed our footsteps, and no other sound could be heard besides the cheers and congratulations for the couple just outside.

  Soon we met in the middle of the aisle. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow—and I most certainly couldn’t talk. William watched me with solemn features, perhaps trying to guess what I was feeling. I wished him all the luck with that, because I sure as hell had no idea what I was feeling.

  He looked so remarkably handsome in that suit—which was obviously new—even if he didn’t look comfortable wearing it. And by some miracle, he’d matched the shirt and tie.

  William scanned every inch of my face without meeting my eyes, while I studied his chiseled, masculine features and the curve of his mouth, which reminded me of his passionate kisses.

  And these feelings. Going from the dark places I’d explored in the past few weeks to this rush of euphoria at the sight of him was like stepping onto an already moving tilt-a-whirl.

  Finally, he cleared his throat. “Zdravo,” he greeted me in perfect Bosnian.

  I blinked, barely able to reply. “What? How? When?” I shook my head, wishing I could make some sense of something.

  “I found out you left. I decided to come get you.”

  I decided to come get you. I wavered where I stood, in danger of swooning like some corseted woman from the nineteenth century.

  “How did you find me here?”

  He looked at me like the answer was obvious. “You saw me read the wedding invitation in your bedroom.”

  I blinked. “You glanced at the invitation for a minute, two months ago…”

  He shrugged. “I remembered the date, time and location of the wedding, so I knew exactly where you would be on this date at this time.”

  Of course he did. I shook my head. “But why come all this way? You said—”

  He startled me by lifting a finger and pressing it to my mouth. “Volim te,” he said.

  I love you.

  My heart leapt, but the rest of me could not forget still-fresh hurts. It was strange, this feeling of flying and being anchored to the earth at the same time. “Wil, you were so angry with me, I—”

  “I’m not angry anymore. I forgot to remember that we all have our flaws. I have lots of them too.”

  I smiled—a tremulous, shaky thing, like a newborn puppy. “You forgot to remember?”

  He smiled too. “Yes.” His brow creased. “My flaw is that I don’t forgive those in others. And that’s just as bad or even worse.”

  I thought about that for a long moment. I wasn’t angry at him, but I was incredibly hurt and still nursing those wounds.

  His eyes skimmed me from head to toe, taking in my dress, my braided hair, my fancy make-up. “You are beautiful, Jenna. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His eyes scanned my face again, his posture straightening as if he was suddenly self-conscious. “But as gorgeous as I find your face and your body, they’re nothing compared to your heart…your gentle, loving heart. I was wrong, and it was unchivalrous to hurt that pure heart of yours.”

  I bit my lip. “Wil—”

  “I’m not done,” he said. It sounded as if he’d practiced this speech many times before—which he probably had. “I’m a knight, and you are the woman whom I hope might become my lady. And a wise man once told you that you were a princess and someday you would be queen. He was right. You’re my queen. The queen of my heart.” He took my hand and bowed deeply, much like a medieval knight giving courtly obeisance to royalty. Then he gently kissed my hand. “I am your humble servant. Please, will you grant me your forgiveness?”

  I exhaled a long breath as he held his position, bent over my arm. Then I reached out and stroked his soft, thick hair.

  “Of course I forgive you. Arise, Sir William. You are my noble protector, and I thank you for all that you’ve done for me. Volim i ja tebe. I love you, too.”

  He straightened, a wide smile on his handsome face. “Jenna, I—”

  “Hold on, William,” I said. His face clouded, and I rushed to clarify so he’d understand. “I mean, I need you to wait for a minute while I say what’s on my mind.” I sighed. “And why I think this can’t work between us.”

  He blinked as if I’d slapped him, but said nothing.

  “I need to be here for a while…spend time with my family. Find out where my home is.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand. Your home is where you’ve been living for the past twenty years—”

  For once, it was me avoiding his eyes. “It’s not that easy, William. You helped me understand that I needed to stop wandering. That I need to establish roots, find permanency. I need to know where my home really is.” His eyes narrowed on a point just over my shoulder with laser precision. “Do you get it?”

  He nodded. “I think that home is the place where you are at ease. The place where you feel safe and secure. Where you know that you are loved.”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “And I need to find out what that looks like for me.”

  His eyes flew to mine. “I’ve had some lessons in visualization from a very good teacher, so I can help you with that.”

  My brows rose. “Oh you can, can you?”

  He gave one quick, decisive nod. “Close your eyes, Your Highness.” I laughed. “No,
you can’t laugh. You have to take this seriously.”

  I pressed my lips together. “Okay. Lay it on me.” I cleared my throat, remembering that I needed to speak plainly. “I mean—proceed.”

  “Take my hands and close your eyes. Begin to breathe deeply and relax.” I did as he asked. “Now listen carefully and envision what I describe. You’ve come home from a long day at your job—a job you love where you work with people who are kind to you and appreciate your contributions. You get out of your car, which you bought with money you’ve been saving up. And you live in your own place that you decorated yourself. A place where you are safe and calm and happy. You’re at your front door right now. Do you see it?”

  I was amazed at how easily I could picture a door made of dark wood with a polished brass handle. “Now you take your keys out of your bag and put the key in the lock. After you unlock the door, then you slowly turn the knob. You see the entryway. You see your pictures and art pieces hanging on the walls, your rug on the floor, your furniture in the living room. You walk inside, just like you’ve been doing for weeks, months, years. And your home is a place that you love.”

  He was quiet for a long moment, so I went with it…picturing what he described and then some. I let myself walk around in that imaginary space, feeling relaxed, allowing the stress of the day to melt away from me.

  “You notice that something smells different,” he continued. “The smell is coming from the kitchen. A delicious aroma of cooked vegetables and meat and spices.”

  A self-cooking kitchen? Not bad. Or maybe a housekeeper? I bit my tongue and didn’t ask because I wanted him to continue.

  Fortunately, he did. “When you enter the kitchen, you see that there’s soup in the slow cooker.”

  “Who put it there?” I couldn’t help asking that time.

  “I did. I made the soup for you. I make very good soup.”

  I opened one eye to look at him. “How come I didn’t know that?”

  He smiled. “You didn’t ask. Close your eyes,” he murmured and I obeyed.

  I started hoping that somewhere in this imaginary house, my personal soup chef would show up wearing nothing but his apron. Because he stood close to me and his smell was making my nose tingle, I was starting to crave his arms around me.

  “Do you smell the soup?” William asked.

  “Yes. My stomach is growling.”

  “Good. Because when I come into the kitchen, the first thing I’ll do is kiss you and ask you how your day was. Then, I’ll spoon you a bowl of soup and cut a slice of fresh bread I bought at the bakery.”

  “Do you live here, too?”

  There was a long pause. “That’s for you to decide. This is your exercise, not mine.”

  I swallowed. “Hmm. Maybe…maybe if you hug me while I’m visualizing? That might help.”

  Seconds later, William shifted closer and then his strong arms were around me. I gulped, overpowered by emotions as he held me.

  My domestic vision was suddenly replaced by powerful, protective arms holding me while the park fireworks terrorized me. A soft voice whispering in my ear, telling me I’d be all right. That he would never leave me. Keen eyes that noticed everything, even my chipped fingernail. Long, deft fingers sweeping away my tears, telling me my heart was as beautiful as my face and my body. Lips that caressed mine slowly but could also possess me fiercely. A man who stood up for me against a bully—more than once—while subjecting himself to ridicule and a potentially devastating loss.

  I pressed my face into William’s suit jacket and inhaled him. And I felt that jolt, followed by a deep, warm sensation in my chest—of safety, of security, of unconditional love. Home.

  Because there are many things you’ll do for the ones you care about—sacrifices you’ll endure, risks you’ll take, obstacles you’ll overcome. But for the one who’s become the air you breathe and the home you crave, you’ll forgive any flaw, brave any challenge and even plan a new future.

  And I was ready—so ready—to plan a future with him.

  “Wil, I want to kiss you.”

  He hesitated for a moment then tilted his head toward me. “On the cheek or on the mouth? With tongue?”

  I growled, grabbing the back of his head, and after his initial shock, he complied readily. And we were kissing…just like that. As if we had never stopped.

  His tongue slid into my mouth, scorching me. His hands curled around my shoulder blades and he hitched me to him. Heat streaked through me and powerful desire burned like a wildfire up and down my spine.

  Suddenly, it was feeling very warm in the little church and it wasn’t even summer yet. I could hear footsteps near the altar—probably an altar boy or even the priest. William must have heard too, because he paused and slowly pulled his mouth away.

  Our damp foreheads pressed together. “Jenna.”

  “William,” I replied.

  “Say you won’t go away again. Not unless you take me with you.”

  “I won’t go anywhere without you if it makes me feel as miserable as I have been these past few weeks.”

  His arms tightened around me. “Let’s not be stupid like that again,” he said. “We belong together.”

  “Come on…your crowd skills are going to be tested once again, at least for a little while. We need to go to the wedding party. And I need to show off my handsome American.”

  He laughed. “I’ve been listening to recordings to learn how to say key phrases in Bosnian.”

  “Well, I like the ones I’ve heard so far…”

  “Želim te.”

  I sucked in a breath, warm desire blooming in my center. “Mmm. I want you, too. Tonight. After the party.”

  I took his hand, and we walked out of the church and into the square. I couldn’t wait to show him around and explore new places with him beside me.

  But first, I wanted to introduce him to my family. I was certain that they’d love him. Maybe not as much as I did, but that was okay.

  Because now I understood what being home truly was. With William’s help, I’d finally found it.

  And it felt incredible.

  Chapter 38

  Mia

  Los Angeles International Airport

  Jenna: In Customs now. Will meet you at curb outside baggage claim?

  Me: Yes! Will be there ASAP. Can’t wait to see you!

  I notified the driver to pull out of the cell phone waiting lot near LAX and head to the curb of the Tom Bradley International Terminal. We had plenty of time because William and Jenna would have to pass through Customs and then claim their luggage. So I decided to while away that time by wheedling Adam some more.

  It had been almost two months since the duel, and he still wouldn’t tell me when this wedding was going to happen. And he was loving every minute of stringing me along. I’d laughed along with him at first, but as time passed, I was ready to stage a revolt.

  We sat in a rented limo—part of the service we sometimes used. Though Adam still preferred driving himself most of the time, no one—not even him—liked circling an airport. Thus, I had the benefit of him being a captive audience with no distractions. I was prepared to use that benefit to get my way.

  “Let’s see…how about Star Wars Day?” I asked.

  “What?” He frowned.

  “May 4th?” At his blank expression, I elaborated. “May. The. Fourth. As in ‘May the fourth be with you.’”

  One dark brow rose. “Stupidest pun ever. Besides, we’re already past that date.”

  I shrugged. “That date comes around again next year...”

  His smile grew shrewd. “Oh no you don’t. I told you already, we are getting married this year.”

  “But you’re not going to tell me what date.”

  He shrugged. “Surprise parties are always fun. Why not a surprise wedding?”

  I scowled at him. “Surprise parties are always fun? You threw a surprise party for me once that was definitely not fun. And you’ve warned me never to throw one for you
. Not that I’d attempt it. Your prescient genius brain powers would sniff out the secret long before it ever happened.”

  A slow, smug grin crept across his handsome face. “That’s right. I’m the one who does the surprises.”

  My mouth twisted with faux frustration. “You missed your calling, Adam Drake. You should have worked for the CIA.”

  He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me up against him. “Maybe I already do.”

  I shook my head. “If you make this a surprise wedding, I promise you it’s not going to go down any better than that surprise party did.”

  It was good that we were finally in the place where we could joke about one of the dark points in our life—the night that Adam had asked me to marry him for the first time—and for all the wrong reasons. The night I’d refused him and then walked into the most awkward surprise party ever. Yes, we were light years away from that night. And when you got to the point where you could laugh or smile about painful memories, then you knew you’d arrived at your happy place—at least for the time being.

  The smile slid off his handsome face and he looked away, rubbing his jaw dramatically with his free hand as if he were a cartoon villain.

  “C’mon, Adam, I need a date,” I whined.

  He leaned over and kissed my temple. “I promised you a date. I’ll give it to you. I just didn’t say when I would give it to you.”

  I got up and moved to the opposite bench seat to avoid his groping hands. “You don’t want to at least tell William we have a date? He helped you win that bet. ”

  “Oh, I could tell him. He’ll keep my secret.”

  My mouth pursed. “Just make sure that secret isn’t too well kept or the bride might not even know when to show up.”

  His smile widened and he patted the seat next to him. I shook my head at him, refusing to risk getting within reach of his all-too-convincing hands. I stuck my tongue out at him before saying, “You’re enjoying this way too much. I might have to get violent. Or get you drunk.”

  “Or...” He held his hand up his mouth to mime a blowjob.