This Cruel Love (A Dark Hearts Stand-Alone Novel Book 2)

by Nikki J Summers

  He grunted and paced forward a few steps to stand directly in front of me.

  “I hate to remind you, sweetheart, but I’m the one who owns your ass. So if you have to stand next to me all fucking night and act like the sun shines out of my ass then you will.”

  “Actually, no, I won’t.” I folded my arms over my chest. He was acting like such a caveman. I wasn’t going to give him an inch.

  “You agreed to have me as your fake girlfriend, and unfortunately for you, Mr Club-them-over-the-head-and-drag-them-back-to-the-cave, I’m known in this city. People at that party knew me, they know what I’m like. Hell, some of them have known me since I was a baby. They know I’m loyal and won’t stand for shit like you tried pulling tonight. I grew up with an older brother who taught me to stand my ground and stand up for myself when it came to men like you. See, in my world, a woman can dance with who the hell she wants to and it doesn’t mean shit. My mum dances with my dad’s friends all the time-”

  “I bet she does,” he mumbled, and I snapped.

  “Yes, she does. And you know what? My dad isn’t a neurotic, needy freak. He lets her make her own decisions, because at the end of the night, she goes home with him. She loves him. That’s what normal people do, Jackson. It’s what everyone else in that room does. You don’t like it, don’t be around them. Don’t be around me. But don’t ever tell me what to do, who to talk to, or who I can dance with. The women in your world might enjoy your caveman ways, but I don’t. Anyway, aren’t you missing the point here? I was dancing with your best friend. You know, that guy who’s always got your back. You were the one groping the stranger, not me. Don’t you trust Cillian?”

  His eyes glazed over, and he seemed to shut down as I mentioned loyalty and trust.

  “I don’t trust anyone. Neither should you.” He took a step closer into my space. “Cillian wasn’t the only guy you danced with though, was he?”

  Was that his problem? That I’d danced with Mason flipping Lovall?

  “Mason went to high school with my brother. I couldn’t be rude and refuse to dance with him. But trust me when I say, it was no fun for me, I can assure you of that.”

  His eyes bored into mine as he bent towards my face to speak. “He is a dangerous man. You need to stay away from him.”

  I took a step back, feeling unnerved by his closeness. “He’s a creep and an asshole, but I can handle men like Mason Lovall.”

  He narrowed his gaze at me but shook his head.

  “You have absolutely no idea about the real world do you? About the monsters that walk amongst us.”

  “I’m standing right in front of one. I think I know all I need to.”

  He smiled to himself at my response, looked down at his feet and then back up at me with pure terror in his eyes. “Damn right, and don’t ever forget it.”

  I crossed my hands over my chest and stood my ground. “Look, I get that you didn’t like me doing the whole dancing with Mason thing, but Cillian? Really? He’s your friend. Why would my dancing with him be so bad?”

  “It was disrespectful, Ryley.”

  I almost choked at his reply. “And groping another woman in front of your girlfriend wasn’t?”

  He pointed in my face as he spoke. “I was teaching you a lesson.”

  I grabbed his finger and pushed it down and out of my face. “You’re a shit teacher! Every person in that room was watching you.”

  He flexed his fingers as if he was itching to punch something. “Yeah, and now they know I take zero shit from anyone,” he growled.

  I’d had enough of his style of crazy. “You need to drop the Neanderthal act and get with the twenty-first century. Maybe start trusting your friends a bit more.”

  “I already told you, I trust no one.”

  “Not even your friend? Come on!”

  “Especially not a friend, and certainly not a woman.”

  “Well, it’s a sad little life you’re going to lead if you can’t ever find that trust.”

  “Probably. But at least no one will ever fuck me over again.”

  “Jesus. Whoever did it the first time did a real number on you.”

  “Didn’t they just.”

  “So, did you get her number? You know, for later.”

  The fire came back into his eyes and he grabbed my chin in his hand, tilting my head up to look directly at him. His breath fanned my face, his full lips inches from mine. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was about to kiss me. My stomach rolled over with nerves, and I held my breath waiting to see what he would do next.

  “I already told you. I don’t do hook-ups.” His breathing was becoming shallow, and I could see waves of mixed emotions flashing in his grey eyes. Anger, intimidation, violence, manipulation and was that… lust?

  I moved my head back to break the physical contact and stop the electric shocks his fingers were sparking into me. The intensity I felt from this staring game of his was seriously fraying my nerves, and cracking my usual steadfast resolve.

  “You could’ve fooled me.”

  I wanted to challenge him. Call him out on his behaviour, because I felt so utterly confused. He was a walking, talking contradiction. One minute he was a man-whore, with women begging to get into his bed, the next he was all aloof and untouchable. A man who doesn’t do hook ups.

  “So, in your world, it’s okay to throw red wine over a guy in public?” he spat back.

  I was relieved to change the direction of this argument. Thoughts of man-whoring, Jackson Caine, and sex was pouring into my brain against my will. I missed my boyfriend, and thinking about another man like that was wrong on way too many levels. So instead, I focused on Jackson’s face when I bathed him in red wine, and I couldn’t stop myself from smirking.

  “No. But if you’d bothered to ask anyone who knows me, you’d know I don’t follow their rules.”

  His shoulders relaxed somewhat and he put his hands back into his pockets as he sighed. “You don’t follow anyone’s rules.”

  Was he holding back a smirk of his own?

  “I did what any woman in my shoes would’ve done. I’d have done the same thing if it was Justin all over someone else. At least people won’t question whether we were actually in a relationship after tonight. They know cheating is a hard limit for me. I reacted naturally.”

  He bit his lip in thought. “It may surprise you to hear this, Ryley, but cheating is a hard limit for me too. And I don’t have many hard limits, sweetheart.”

  “I bet you don’t.”

  He cocked his eyebrow at my flirty response. Was it a flirty response? I didn’t know. I was getting all kinds of confused by this exchange. The devil had a sneaky way of creeping into my thoughts against my better judgement and throwing me off my game.

  “Let me tell you a little bit about my world, Ryley. You see, in my world, things aren’t as sweet and innocent as they are in yours. You can never second guess a man’s intentions. And when it comes to a woman like you? Well, we protect what’s ours.”

  I scoffed at his ridiculous statement. “A woman like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean? You make women sound weak, like property you own.”

  Why did he always have to look at me like he was reading my very soul? I found his direct eye contact beyond distracting and unnerving.

  “No, Ryley. Anyone can be weak. I know weak men. I know strong women. What I’m trying to tell you is my world is violent, destructive, and a place where you have to watch your back, always. The next friend of mine who asks you to dance may not be so friendly, and Mason fucking Lovall is the last guy you should be inviting to dance with you.”

  “I didn’t invite him!” I protested.

  “You trust too easily, Ryley. That’s not always a good thing. Are you aware that a club across town was being used as a front for a sex trafficking ring recently? A very close friend of mine almost lost his woman to that gang. You’d have stood no chance.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence!”
/>
  He hunched down to my level again, his face directly in front of mine, eyes burning with fire. “Tonight, I showed you how much you can trust people. You can’t. Turn your back and you get stabbed right in it.”

  “Yeah, by you. Listen, I get it, you’re a guy and you don’t want to be a monk for these next three months, but at least be discreet about your arrangements. You don’t have to shove it in everyone’s face like that.”

  “Now who’s the one missing the point? I had zero interest in that woman. I did what I did so I wouldn’t look like a complete loser stood at the bar on my own.”

  “And yet you managed to make yourself look like the biggest sleazebag to ever walk this earth.”

  “No, you did that with your little red wine show.”

  “Well, it made me feel a damn sight better for doing it.”

  “Good. At least one of us got the result they wanted tonight.”

  “You think I wanted to look like a crazy, jealous freak?”

  I couldn’t take much more. My head was pounding, and if I didn’t get away soon, I was liable to tell him where he could stick his rehab deal and walk.

  “You are the most insufferable man it has ever been my displeasure to meet. I didn’t get the result I wanted tonight. In fact, none of this is what I wanted. If I had my way, I’d be in bed with my boyfriend right now, but no. I’m stuck here arguing with your sorry ass. And you know what? I’m done. I’m not discussing this with you anymore.”

  His face went pale and he moved his body as if to stop me from walking towards the front door, but I was heading in the opposite direction to my bedroom.

  “Goodnight, Jackson. Hopefully you’ll wake up on the right side of your cage tomorrow and be in a better mood.”

  And with that, I turned on my heels and left him to his sulking.

  I was coaxed awake gently by the sounds of Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1: Prelude No 1 in C Major, drifting through the apartment. Bathing every corner with its soothing tones and creating a sense of wellness that felt strangely peaceful here in the devil’s lair. A piece of heaven floating over the air, in stark contrast to the aura that the occupant of this home so often created.

  The piece caused a painful tug in my heart, as it was as familiar to me as an old friend. My father used to play this every time he felt stressed out, or needed to ground himself after a particularly taxing day at work. I used to sit at his feet and listen as his nimble fingers glided over the keys. More than once he sent me to sleep with the ambient, tranquil state he forged, as the music resonated around the room and into my very soul. It was my favourite classical piece of music because it reminded me of my childhood. It also reminded me of how much I missed my family, my parents, and in particular, my dad.

  For years he’d tried to get me to follow in his musical footsteps, and paid for me to have private tuition on the family piano. But I preferred to listen to the music as opposed to playing it myself. I’d always refused to even attempt Bach, because those notes, they belonged to my dad. It was his.

  A stray tear rolled down my cheek, but I let it fall. I liked the emotions the music was evoking inside me, and I didn’t want to suppress any of it. Not for one second.

  I pushed the bed covers off and, as if mirroring the music around me, I glided over to the door. It was as if I was sleep-walking, but I was one hundred percent awake. The music was sending me into the sweetest trance. I crept out of my room, expecting to see the lights from a music system, or the television. I wasn’t expecting to see Jackson sitting at the piano playing the music himself.

  Careful not to alert him to my presence, I leant against the wall, then slid down it to sit and listen undetected. Something told me he wouldn’t appreciate me watching him play. There was no music in front of him to follow; he was playing the piece from memory, just like my dad used to. I was mesmerised watching him. How could someone who exacted such violence and terror in his day-to-day life play with such beauty and grace?

  The expression on his face as he played was one of pure passion and concentration. His eyes were closed, and he bowed his head as his fingers skated over the keys, caressing them as he played with expert precision. His body was relaxed and his shoulders were moving in time with the glide of his hands. Was this his way of de-stressing after a day of bloodshed and brutality? This all felt surreal to me. I was having trouble equating everything I already knew about Jackson Caine to this stunning maestro sitting before me. I could’ve listened to him play all day.

  It struck me then how it didn’t bother me that he was playing my father’s song. In fact, he played it with as much, if not more vigour and perfection than he did, if that was possible. How ironic that the man to cause me so much misery and heartache was now soothing me with his talents. Was he trying to make amends with his melody? Whatever he was doing, it was working. I was the most relaxed I’d been in days. The music came to an end, and he opened his eyes to peer down at the keys he’d just played, as if in wonder of how they’d created such a blissful tune. I didn’t want to taint the harmonious ambience he’d crafted, so I lifted myself from the floor and floated back to my room in a daze of contentment and confusion. I also swore that the minute my parents were back in the country, I’d reach out to them.

  It was no surprise that when I woke up in the morning, Jackson had already left for work. It must’ve been Sylvie’s day off, because the apartment was deadly silent and the coffee in the machine was stone cold. I helped myself to some toast and made a fresh pot of coffee, then tried to occupy myself with a new box set on Netflix, but I was restless. I wanted to get out there and start working, be a useful member of society. My grandma had always told me that everyone had to have a purpose for their day. I was no pampered princess. I liked to keep busy.

  I looked around at the pristine apartment and decided cleaning was pointless. Sylvie kept this place looking immaculate. So what to do with my day? I took to the shower to freshen up and decide what the day had in store for me.

  I figured I must be a glutton for punishment, because after exhausting all ideas, all I could think about was going to Jackson’s club and seeing if I could make myself useful there. The lure of finding out his deepest, darkest secrets was too great a pull for me. After being woken by his piano playing last night, I couldn’t deny I felt intrigued by him. Plus, the idea of spending a bit more time getting under his skin and annoying the crap out of him had its merits.

  I took a cab into the city and had the driver drop me off at the back of the club. The doors were wide open as a delivery had just arrived, and men were busy moving boxes into the store room at the back of the building. I smiled and strode forwards with purpose as if I was meant to be there and made my way into the main area of the club undetected to find staff stocking shelves and cleaning.

  “Need any help?” I asked a guy carrying a crate of beer bottles up from the cellars.

  “Yeah, always. You the new girl?” He eyed me suspiciously, as if he doubted my ability to pick up anything heavy or do any kind of manual work.

  “That depends on who’s asking. What do you need me to do?”

  He stacked the crate on top of another by the fridges behind the bar and pointed at them.

  “Fridges need restocking. Only you need to take the ones from the back and put them at the front, you know, to keep the rotation fresh. Think you can manage that?”

  “It’ll be tough, but I’ll give it a whirl.” What a douche. I think I was capable of putting some bottles onto shelves in a fridge.

  “When you’ve done that, there’s a mountain of glasses that need putting through the washer out back. There’s an apron somewhere under the bar.”

  He bent down to try to find an apron for me, but I ushered him away, letting him know I was fine and could manage to do those jobs without one.

  “Friendly bunch he’s got working here,” I muttered under my breath, and a deep laugh alerted me to someone else’s presence behind me.

  “Steve’s an
ignorant asshole, but we aren’t all like that.”

  The guy on the other side of the bar was a mountain of a man. He stood towering over me and his frame eclipsed the rest of the room, but he smiled like a child who’d just seen the ice cream truck go past on a hot day.

  “I’m Dennis. I do security here. You must be Emily, the new barmaid.”

  I didn’t correct him. I’d happily take Emily’s shift today if she was new. She’d need all the help she could get with this crowd. I guessed Dennis was an angel, though.

  “Anything you need, just holler. We’re a good bunch here. Mr Caine runs a tight ship, but he’s a good boss. You won’t regret coming to work here. Despite what your first impressions of Steve are, don’t let that cloud your judgement of the rest of us.”

  I took Dennis’s outstretched hand and winced as he gripped my miniscule hand in his like he was crushing rocks.

  “Do you drive?” he asked.

  “Err, no not at the moment. I haven’t had chance to get a car. I got a cab over here today.”

  Dennis nodded to himself. “Get receipts if you call your own cab, but just so you know, we have a cab company we use for our employees. Mr Caine likes to make sure all of his staff get home safely after a shift. Just let me know when you’re clocking off and I’ll sort that out for you, Emily.”

  How very baffling. So Jackson was happy to send thugs to an apartment at three a.m. to scare the hell out of the occupants, but he’d make sure everyone got a free cab home to keep them safe when they’d done a day’s work for him. Could this guy be any more of a conundrum?

  Dennis gave me a captain’s salute as he pushed off from the bar and wandered back over to the doors leading to the back of the club. Today was certainly becoming quite the eye opener for me.