The thought of her in a rage doesn’t sit well with me.
My phone buzzes. A message from Cannon. Still on?
Yes.
Cannon’s my witness. He’ll wait in the hidden room behind my chair until we’re ready to say the vows. I want her focus—and her anger—on me. Not my playboy friend. I put in a side table for Mr. Turlowitz. The contracts for London to sign will be lined up on it.
My phone buzzes with a call. Does Cannon have questions or can’t he stomach his part?
It’s Kase. “Jacobi. Are you back?”
My pulse spikes. I’m relieved for something to take my mind off tomorrow and the time inching by until then.
Before I can reply, he continues. “I monitored that trouble we had earlier. They never could hack our system.”
Kase loved cyber security, but not enough to commit to it for a career. We’d formed a cyber security company together before I graduated college and sold it two years later. I bought the mansion from the sale. He… I have no idea what he did with his money. He lives in a rat-infested apartment with his batshit-crazy girlfriend.
I formed Dixon Incorporated, but he’s like my silent partner. I let him play around to keep up his skills. Growing up with fixers for parents, I think it’s more of a thrill for him to engage in legal business practices.
“How far did they get?”
“Just some probing. But damn, they didn’t tap the decoy file I hid behind a weak firewall waiting for some asshole to crack.” He chortles.
The file is full of so many viruses that the recipient will race to burn their computer and nuke their wifi to get rid of them. Kase was pretty proud of it and can’t wait for it to implode on someone.
“Just some normal probing?” Maybe the incident wasn’t anything to worry about. If a day goes by where my company doesn’t have a hacking attempt, I worry. As long as others are attempting to break in, then I’m relevant and important to my clients. As long as I hold up to those attacks, then I’m doing my job and can keep doing it for the Fortune 500 companies that rely on Dixon, Inc.
“I wouldn’t say normal. It’s a hell of a coincidence if the two incidences aren’t related, but I can’t prove they’re linked.”
My interest piques. “What were they after?”
“Nothing pointed, as far as I could tell. But they poked at the firewalls, tried to send some malware, and attempted to sneak in a few Trojans. Not quite rookie level. I followed up every attack and the IP addresses were all in the same vicinity. They went for Ireland, but I’m certain they originated in the US.”
Following IPs can be futile, but in cases like this, the work paid off. And probably gave Kase an adrenaline rush he didn’t have to worry about getting arrested for. “I’ll keep an eye on it. Thanks for monitoring it for me.”
“Anytime.”
I hang up. Kase meant it when he said anytime. Cannon’s the same. I used up a favor in Mexico. They haven’t tracked down Sully. I stayed up all night, hunting down Sully’s digital trail, but there’s nothing but dead ends. No job that I can find, and I didn’t look hard, but no one that wanted to claim him as family.
He’s out there, though. I’ll find him.
Right after I get married.
Chapter 14
London
Dabbing Natural Glow’s special coverup product on the dark circles under my eyes, I wince at my image in the mirror. Last night, Diana stayed up with me, killing off a couple bottles of wine and raging about how we’re going to get back at The Dick Dixon.
It’s my wedding day.
Today’s the day I meet my future husband. The day I’m getting married. It’s the day I fight Jacobi Dixon for control of not only my company, but my life.
Today’s also the day my life’s getting upended. I should be falling in love, getting married, and seizing the reins on my future. Having my dad walk me down the aisle toward the love of my life.
But he’s gone and the closest I’ve come to real reciprocal love left me alone without saying goodbye.
If it was up to me, I wouldn’t marry anyone who isn’t in full support of what I want to do with my future or with my company. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t marry anyone who didn’t understand that what I do with my company isn’t their business.
If it was up to me, I would marry a man who I was head over heels crazy for and had rocked off-the-charts chemistry with. A man like Jake Dixon.
I stare at my phone on the counter. At some point, I pulled up the selfie of me and Jake. I study his strong profile, remembering the way he took the phone to ease my conflict over what to tell my friends. What I wouldn’t give for him to ride into my life and rescue me from this day.
He’d do something like that for me. I know it. Just like he left early.
Tears threaten to gather in my eyes once again. Understanding why he snuck off doesn’t matter. Knowing that it’s easier this way for both of us doesn’t matter. It hurts. I was supposed to come back with an in your face grin, having shared my bed with so many others, but never with Jacobi Dixon.
That didn’t turn out like it was supposed to, either. Seems to be the theme of my life lately.
There’s a tentative knock at the bathroom door. Diana. “We have to be there in an hour.”
“I don’t care if we make him wait. What’s he gonna do, punish me by not marrying me?”
There’s a soft thud. I picture her slumping against the door. “I’m going to start to cry again.”
She blames herself for all of this when there’s only one man responsible. “We’re not wasting energy on tears today.”
Finishing up, I dab on some Unyielding Mascara. It enhances the sparkly eyeshadow. Simple, understated, but girly enough to show him I’m not afraid to be myself. I open the bathroom door. Diana didn’t vamp it up quite as much as I did, but she’s one step away from wearing a black veil.
She smiles, the dark circles under her eyes showing how much today upsets her. Diana doesn’t get out of bed without a drop of makeup on, but today it looks like she hardly tried. “It’s going to be hard not to be a mess all day, but I’ll be strong for you.”
I give her a quick hug. We don’t speak as we gather our handbags and head out to the elevator to the parking garage. I arrange the prototype bag as my reminder to be strong. Diana drives. This moment was a perfect snapshot of our relationship. If I had driven, I’d be meandering all the way to the Malibu address, missing turns and spacing out. Diana summons the strength to drive and navigate, just like I would summon the strength to be angry enough so neither of us would break down at the beachside mansion we’ve been summoned to.
She makes one last turn and an imposing black gate looms in front of us. Is this whole property gated?
I peer out the window. “Is that his house?” There’s a surprising amount of trees for being so close to the beach. I hate to be impressed, but a secluded place like this with beachfront property isn’t easy to find. And it’s expensive as hell.
The gate swings open as if it senses our car specifically. A narrow drive disappears into the trees.
This is my new home. I have no plans to let roots grow. I can squat in a spare bedroom and spend a few nights “packing” my place. I’m not moving in with him.
“I can’t believe he made us come to his home to do this,” Diana mutters.
The trees thin as we near a sprawling house. If my eight-year-old self saw this, I would’ve thought I was moving into the Disney castle. The place is made out of stone and wood, in a rustic mixture not seen in this part of the city. The overall look is older than I imagined. More like a glamour home of the 1940s. It’s not a blocky structure, but wings back like it’s reaching for the ocean behind it. A wide expanse of blue sparkles behind the place.
I can’t contain my awe. It’s gorgeous, and private. Such a nice property wasted on such a vile man.
“This is just ridiculous,” Diana snaps.
It’s my first smile of the day. Dad and Diana instilled
a realistic ideal about money in me from the start. Yes, we have a lot. But we’re also very deliberate in how we spend it. And knowing what I do of Jacobi Dixon, he had deliberately purchased this place because it gave a message: someone rich and powerful resides here.
At least I have that going for me. I don’t need to flaunt my status for everyone to see in order to feel validated. Although this house isn’t really where anyone can see it. I crane my neck to look behind me. The road we came in on is swallowed back up by the trees.
And I’m supposed to live out here. Alone. With him. I’m prepared to get married in a square cubicle office, but I should’ve expected that bastard to jump us with a surprise.
A loop circles in front of the house. Diana follows it and parks at the apex, next to a walk that stretches from a series of stairs and a massive double wood plank front door.
I agree with Diana. This is ridiculous. “Do you think he has, like, a butler or someone to come out and greet us?”
The doors open and a familiar figure appears. The lawyer who had been the bearer of the bad news.
“He’s making his lawyer do his dirty work?” Scorn drips off my voice and I open the door.
“Welcome, Miss Vanderbeek,” he says smoothly, but his brow is shiny. He’s nervous and doesn’t want to be here any more than we do. What does The Dick Dixon have on him?
The door shuts and echoes ominously behind me. Mr. Turlowitz greets Diana and starts for the house. “Everything’s ready in Mr. Dixon’s office.”
“I’ll bet it is.”
Mr. Turlowitz doesn’t react, but sets a fast pace that’s hard to keep up with in heels.
The inside of the house is aggravating—only because of how open and beautiful it is. Sun streams in through floor-to-ceiling windows at the back of the house. The entrance opens right to a seating area, and on the other side of the windows is a courtyard that looks like the perfect spot for an intimate party. Or a great place to lay out and do some work from home.
I scan the rest of the interior, hoping to find cracked plaster or bugs skittering about, something to make this place one I won’t want to hang out in. No luck. Broad-finned fans spin lazily from the high ceilings. A sprawling kitchen with a quaint island and bar stools is to my right and a winding staircase is to my left. Behind the staircase is a hallway that Mr. Turlowitz disappears down.
I exchange a glance with Diana. She’s as floored by the beauty of the home as I am. I swallow hard and follow the lawyer.
A sense of foreboding increases with each step. The hallway catches light from the main area, but the change makes it more like a path toward a dungeon. If the Death March started blaring from unseen speakers mounted around the door, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Our heels click on the tile floor. The office door is open and the flooring abruptly changes to hardwood. I don’t like it as much, but that could be because my future is changing on that floor.
I’m almost to the entrance when the starkness of the hallway becomes clear. Nothing lines the walls that tells me anything about Jacobi Dixon. No family pictures, no specific style of artwork, and no trinkets from places he might’ve traveled to. The style in this house tells me less about Jacobi Dixon than the lawyer did.
I’m at the office. I can only see a desk with no one behind it. But he’s in there. My pulse kicks up like there’s a herd of horses behind my ribs. I shouldn’t show a sign of weakness, but I reach back and grab Diana’s hand. She squeezes mine back before letting go.
I enter.
Mr. Turlowitz leans over a small round table. The papers on the top have to be the marriage contract and whatever other paperwork Jacobi Dixon thinks will turn my company over to him. I envision a flamethrower lighting everything on that obnoxious wooden structure ablaze.
The office is intimidating, so unlike the rest of the house. Three walls are full of bookshelves, and those shelves are lined with what looks like the most boring books ever published in the history of the world. Does this guy fill his office with crap that looks important, but that he never uses? This whole room is nothing more than one giant prop. I’d bet my penthouse that Jacobi Dixon doesn’t actually work in here, but only uses it to show off.
My gaze is drawn to the windows, a sight that’s so at odds with the room. My chest constricts and it’s hard to pull in a full breath. There he is. His back is to me. All I can tell from where I stand is that he’s tall and has dark brown hair. It’s slicked back and longer than I’d expected for a man in a suit who owns a mansion. His shoulders are wide and as my gaze strokes down his body, I sense something familiar about Jacobi Dixon.
He doesn’t turn to greet me.
Anger sweeps through me like a ten-story blaze. I’m here at the time he demanded, and he doesn’t have the grace to turn and face me.
“I’m here. Let’s get on with it.” I’ve never sounded so bitchy in my life.
Diana steps close behind me, cowering like she’s ready to grab me and run, or cling to me and start pleading to this asshole to spare us.
When Jacobi Dixon turns around, my world screeches to a stop. Familiar, fathomless dark eyes sweep up and down my body. Kissable lips curl into a half sneer and his gaze is full of ownership, like he’s seen every inch of me naked, like he’s tasted me on his tongue while I hollered his name, like he knows exactly what I like and how hard I like it, and worse, like he’s the only one who can give it to me.
It takes a couple of moments for my brain to register all the information and pound it out into a straight and sensible line.
I know this man.
This man is not supposed to be in a suit tailored to within an inch of its life. This man is not supposed to have freshly trimmed hair swept off his forehead. This man is not supposed to be in this house, with a private beach, in the same city I live in.
But no matter which way I knead and digest the information, the only answer I can come up with is that I’ve been betrayed. Jake Dixon is none other than Jacobi Dixon, my future husband.
______
Find out if London’s going to be trapped in a Malibu mansion like a fairytale princess and whether Jacobi’s going to be her own personal villain or turn into a hero in board shorts in Redeemed.
Want to read more rugged heroes while waiting for Cannon and Penni’s story? Check out King’s Crown.
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About the Author
Marie Johnston writes paranormal and contemporary romance and has collected several awards in both genres. Before she was a writer, she was a microbiologist. Depending on the situation, she can be oddly unconcerned about germs or weirdly phobic. She’s also a licensed medical technician and has worked as a public health microbiologist and as a lab tech in hospital and clinic labs. Marie’s been a volunteer EMT, a college instructor, a security guard, a phlebotomist, a hotel clerk, and a coffee pourer in a bingo hall. All fodder for a writer!! She has four kids and even more cats.
mariejohnstonwriter.com
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Also by Marie Johnston
Ruined and Redeemed Duet
Ruined
Redeemed
Oil Kings
King’s Crown
King’s Ransom
King’s Treasure
King’s Country
King’s Queen
Like hard-working men who are in control of everything but the one they fall for?
The Walker Five:
Conflict of Interest (Book 1)
Mustang Summer (Book 2)
Long Hard Fall (Book 3)
Guilt Ridden (Book 4)
Mail Order Farmer (Book 5)
books on Archive.
Ruined (Ruined and Redeemed Duet Book 1) Page 13
