One Woman

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  My cellphone rings again, and I grab it from my pocket where I’ve stuck it to find Savage’s number. “Savage,” I tell Emma, and she pushes off the wall and sucks in a breath.

  “Savage,” I greet, my eyes holding Emma’s.

  “No poison, but asshole that I am, I want to keep you alive. I had a look at Emma’s little gift.”

  My eyes meet Emma’s. “And?”

  “Let’s have a man-to-man pow wow, and by man-to-man, I mean without Emma.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jax…

  Savage is pissing me the fuck off.

  I told him to wait. I told him not to look in the damn envelope. And I told Emma we’d do this together, that we’d open the envelope together. But I swear as I stare into her beautiful eyes and see the fear there, I hesitate in my response. I hesitate because I know where that fear comes from. It comes from her confession about being alone. It comes from her need to hold onto her brother. It comes from her desire to run before I push her away, because that’s what she thinks is going to happen. And so I hedge, I hedge while my mind chases my right move.

  “I have a meeting,” I state. “I’ll contact you when it’s over.” I don’t give him time to push me while Emma is watching. I move on. “Are your men in place?”

  “They’re here and ready to kick ass, but let’s talk about your meeting. Kent Sawyer. I took the liberty to do some research. That’s another reason we need to meet.”

  “I know who and what he is.”

  “Want to bet a date with Emma on that?”

  He’s testing my patience. “You think you’re funny, Savage—”

  “I put things in real terms. There’s rarely anything funny about reality. But let me be clear. You don’t know everything you need to know about Kent Sawyer. Be careful or you’ll lose more than Emma.”

  “Says the man who can’t follow instructions.”

  “My directive, outside of a paycheck, is to keep you and Emma alive,” he says. “Who gave me that direction? Me. That’s who fucking gave me that direction. And I’m the king. I listen to me as you should. I’m the almighty on this. Because I’m not good at living with dead people on my mind. Call me selfish, but I don’t want to try. So, what I’m telling you is not to shut Emma out. I’m telling you that my job is to keep you and her safe. She is going to react to what’s inside that envelope and that reaction could get her killed.”

  I inhale a breath and let it out on my answer, “I need Sawyer out of here. We’ll talk when he leaves.”

  “Yes,” Savage agrees. “You need Sawyer the fuck out of here. Hit me with a text when you’re ready.” He disconnects, and I slide my phone in my pocket, my decision about what to do next, coming easily now that Savage isn’t yacking in my ear. “He wants to see me alone.”

  Her eyes go wide. “He opened it.”

  My lips thin, and I give her a short nod. “Yeah, baby, he opened it.”

  “And he wants to see you alone?” She presses her hand to her belly. “Okay. Well, we now know it’s something that damns me and my family. And us.” She tries to walk away.

  I catch her arm and step into her. “Do you blame me for what Brody did last night?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why would I blame you for anything your family did?”

  “I didn’t die.”

  “That fool could have killed you,” I say. “He could have gotten you both killed. We are not responsible for anything our families did. Nor are we damned. Stop doing that to us, baby.” I stroke her cheek. “Please. Stop running every time something comes at us.”

  She breathes out a shaky breath. “I did that again, didn’t I?”

  “Yes. You did.”

  She presses her hands to her face and drops them. “I didn’t realize this was my thing, Jax. I don’t want it to be my thing.”

  I stroke her rapidly drying hair behind her ear. “Then make me your thing, okay?”

  “You already are my thing, Jax.”

  “But you don’t trust me or us.”

  “Jax—”

  I press my fingers to her lips. “It’s okay, baby. Considering your history, your family’s history, even how we met, that’s smart, but I reject that for our future. I’m going to show you I’m the guy you can trust. That’s a promise, and it’s one I will not break.” I pull her to me and kiss her. “And now. I’m going to go deal with all the bullshit, so I can come back and show you the castle I want you to call home. And go to that breakfast we talked about.”

  I set her away from me, and I start buttoning my shirt, my gaze dropping to her feet. “You better cover up. You’re distracting me.” My eyes meet hers. “And I might end up undressing instead of dressing.”

  She laughs. “My toes are all that are uncovered.”

  “That’s all it takes, baby.”

  She smiles and walks up to me, pushing to those bare toes, and kisses me. “I’m going to make you trust me, too. That’s a promise I don’t intend to break.” And with that, she exits the closet and leaves me staring after her.

  In other words, she thinks I don’t trust her, but she wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust her. And there it is. Her point. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t trust me. We are traveling on this path between families together, a path with history we do not know or understand, but everything between us isn’t about the path. It’s about the many paths we’ve traveled separate and apart of the one that presents itself in the here and now. I want it all with her, and I want it now. I don’t know when and how I made that decision, but I did. And that means I need to turn the paths of past and present in a positive direction, starting with getting rid of Sawyer and then ending with me confessing a few more sins that I’d planned against Emma’s family.

  The hairdryer turns on, and I finish dressing, minus the navy-blue pinstriped jacket and solid blue tie to match my pants. The hairdryer turns off, and I enter the bathroom to find Emma flat ironing her hair. It’s a surreal moment that I feel like a punch in the chest, but it’s a good punch. I like her in my bathroom, and when I step to the sink next to her and our eyes connect, that punch happens all over again. I don’t have women in my home. I don’t do the shared bathroom thing. But I would share the fucking world with this woman. I don’t give a damn that she’s a Knight. Nothing is going to change that.

  Nothing and no one.

  We stand there staring at each other, and we do that thing I’ve never done with any other woman. We laugh for no reason. In the middle of loads of shit, knee-deep, we laugh together. And I didn’t know it until I met her, but I need that and her in my life.

  Smiling, and it’s an impossible fucking feat that I smile, considering Sawyer is waiting on me downstairs, I skip the shave, dry my hair, and spend most of the next few minutes mesmerized by Emma putting on her makeup. Fuck me, I’m in deep with this woman, and I don’t even feel one ounce of regret.

  Irritated that Sawyer is forcing me to leave Emma this morning, and even more irritated at myself for ever going down this rabbit hole of revenge I now have to undo, I walk to the closet and grab my tie, threading it through my collar. I’m going to get this the fuck over with. Emma appears in the doorway, her lips painted pink, her makeup as gentle as I believe her soul is, and damn it, I like that about her. I like that she’s somehow this mix of tough and gentle of heart. Somewhere along the line, life threw punches and muscled up, and she threw back. Emma muscled up and protected herself, and despite the tendency to run that was created, it also kept her from becoming bitter.

  “I’ll do it,” she says, walking toward me, her toes now covered in black lace-up boots that I’m presently fantasizing about her wearing with leather and lace.

  She stops in front of me and begins to knot my tie, her delicate brow furrowing in thought before she flattens her hand on the tie. “Perfect,” I say, inspecting her work, a rare flare of possessiveness, even jealousy flaring in me. I want Emma. I want all
of her, and I want to know who had her before me, so I know how they lost her. Because I won’t. “That takes practice,” I add. “Who’d you knot a tie for Emma?”

  “My father,” she says. “A little girl with a misplaced hero complex. I always wanted to please him but never did.” She makes a frustrated sound, steps back, and presses her hands on her hips. “Blue looks good on you,” she adds, changing the subject.

  I want to ask her about ten questions right now but now is not that time. Now is the time when I leave and come back. And when I do, we’re not letting anyone else disturb us.

  I shrug on my jacket. “I won’t be long, and when I get back, Sawyer will be out of the picture.”

  “No,” she surprises me by saying.

  “No?”

  “Protect your business and your brand, Jax. I don’t control our company. If we were to drop your brand, you’d feel it. Place it in the Sawyer hotels. That’s smart business.”

  “Emma—”

  “Please. Don’t jeopardize your business for me and my family.”

  I close the space she’s placed between us. “Because you don’t plan to be around.”

  “I do plan to be around, Jax.” Her hand settles on top of the tie she’s knotted. “Regardless of what’s in that envelope. You don’t know that yet, or you wouldn’t have just made that statement, so I think one of us needs to stop talking about trust and have it.”

  “What does that mean, Emma?”

  “We both know you’re going to meet with Savage. We both know you want to know what is in the envelope before me.”

  “Emma—”

  “I’m trusting you to see it first, to tell me what it is, to show me what it is and then we’ll decide what to do. I’m trusting you in all things, Jax, which is why I believe you can do business with Sawyer and not use him to ruin my family. I’m going to get a cup of coffee and then explore the castle grounds. Since I might live here and all, that seems like a good idea.” And with that, she turns and intends to walk away, but I don’t let her escape, not with that statement.

  I catch her arm, turning her to face me, but I don’t challenge her words. I show her how much I fucking want what she’s just offered me. I cup her head, and I kiss the hell out of her. I kiss her like I own her. I kiss her like she owns me. And when I’m done, I make damn sure she knows where I stand. “Nothing I find out with Savage changes this or us. Nothing. If you run, Emma, I’ll chase you and not give two flying flips about my pride. That’s how damn much you mean to me.” And with that, I step around her and head off to conquer the world. Because that’s what I’m going to do for Emma Knight. Conquer the damn world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jax…

  I exit my tower by way of a winding staircase that leads to a hallway in the center of the castle. My entrance and exit are electronically controlled, and I’m bothered by how easily that might be hacked. A problem I’ve never considered until Emma arrived, and I decided I want her to stay.

  I use the short walk to the business office to text Savage about a solution. He replies with a very Savage like reply: I need blondes and good burgers, the way you need updates to your wiring and security system: in abundance.

  I have no idea why I laugh at this. I don’t get the man’s humor. I don’t like his humor, but the guy grows on you, and hell, I used to be easier to amuse. I hardened up somewhere years back, but I can feel Emma changing me, revealing the old me again. A me I haven’t recognized in a very long time, even before my father and brother died. One I’d thought I wanted gone, but she’s changed everything. Together, we change everything in the broadest of ways. A thought that has me striding longer, urgent to get back to Emma.

  I enter the foyer to find Jill exiting her office, and there’s no question that she’s a strikingly beautiful woman, who I used to think complimented my bother perfectly. Until I didn’t. Today, she’s in a red dress, the same one she’s favored often since his death, which sums up why my opinion on her and my brother changed. He hated that dress, and not because he wanted to dictate her clothing, but because it looks just like the dress our mother was wearing the last outing we shared with her.

  “Thank God,” she breathes out, shoving her long blonde hair from her face. “Kent Sawyer’s an impatient man. I was going to the kitchen to see if they could whip up some fantastic prize of a treat to distract him from your tardiness.”

  I consider asking her if she was aware of a delivery to my door this morning, but I decide not to show my hand until I talk to Savage. There’s every reason for anyone who knows me and the castle to believe that I won’t exit the rear door. “I’ll handle him, Ms. Radcliff.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Are we that formal now?” She laughs uncomfortably. “We’re nearly family.”

  “So is everyone who works here. I’m sure you can understand where I’m going with this.”

  “I know you see them as family,” she replies primly. “But the festival brings in a huge influx of clients. We need them to be greeted with formality. That was an issue last year with the Miller Restaurants.”

  “If the Millers don’t like our family, and our staff is our family, they’re free to find another whiskey to serve. Which I’m certain is what my bother would have told him.”

  “He did,” she concedes, “but with the loss of your father and Hunter, too, we have questions and concerns coming at us from all directions.”

  “That I’ve handled.”

  “I handle a lot of things to protect you.”

  That gives me pause, a muscle in my jaw twitching of its own accord. “What exactly are you referencing?”

  She folds her arms in front of her in what I read to be a protective stance. No, defensive. She’s defensive. “Nothing that’s not handled,” she snaps.

  “I need details.”

  “You don’t trust me?” she challenges.

  “You needed me here,” I remind her. “I’m here. You communicated. I listened. Now I’m asking you to do the same with me.”

  She cuts her stare, but not before I see the flicker of anger in her eyes. Her gaze shoots back to mine, and she snaps. “And you brought her with you. Hunter spent time with her father before he died.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Hunter changed after he came around,” she says, her voice low, her finger jagging in the air.

  “I’m aware of that as well.” My reply is low, calm, an attempt to keep her calm.

  “If you go next, there’s only Brody.”

  I arch a brow. “Are you planning my funeral?”

  “Is she?” Jill snaps back. “Hunter would want me to ask that.”

  That envelope with Emma’s name on it flashes in my mind and mixed with the red dress and all the times she’s hit on me, I can’t get to a good place with her comment or her. But she was engaged to my brother. She lost him. Who am I to judge how she expresses her grief? With that in mind, I force myself to think of Hunter, and I address her as a sister who might have been, not an outsider. “She’s the woman I choose. She’s by my side to stay. This isn’t a game I’m playing. This isn’t a game she’s playing. She matters to me. And that would matter to my brother.”

  “You mattered to your brother.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “And he mattered to both of us. Hunter operated the way my father operated. No blame. No games. Family first and a belief that all of us here are family. And so I’m asking you now, to manage with those words. We are all family.”

  “Family,” she whispers, nodding, her voice cracking with emotion, a sign that the ice princess, isn’t all ice.

  That’s either progress or manipulation. I keep returning to manipulation with her. I turn away and start walking toward the library, and she calls out. “The dress isn’t about what he hated if that’s what you think. I saw you looking at it.”

  Surprised, yet again, she has my attention, which is what she wants. I halt, turn and face her. “Then what is
it about?”

  “He lost her. I lost him. It’s my funeral dress.”

  A link to my mother, that my brother hated, is her funeral dress. I’m not sure what to do with that statement. It’s just another thing that hits me wrong, but I remind myself, once again, that I’m not a grief counselor. I’ve also had my own fucked up ways of dealing with my grief. My intentions toward the North family, with the man waiting on me in the library, is living proof.

  “I need to deal with Sawyer,” I say, turning away from Jill, saving anything more she and I need to address for later.

  Right now, Kent Sawyer is on my mind, and with him, Savage’s words replay in my head: You don’t know everything you need to know about Kent Sawyer. Be careful or you’ll lose more than Emma.

  I walk up a short concrete-encased stairwell to the double doors and pause. If my enemy’s enemy is my friend, and Sawyer is Emma’s enemy, he’s not my friend anymore. He’s my enemy. I open the doors to what is one of my favorite rooms in the castle, a room with a high ceiling and four towering windows directly in front of me now. A fireplace to my left. Rich black and red furnishings around it. Books lining every inch of the wall that can hold a shelf.

  Kent Sawyer is sitting in a chair, by the fireplace, talking on the phone. The instant he spots me, he disconnects and stands up, sliding his cell into the pocket of his custom gray suit. We meet in the middle of the room, standing toe-to-toe, me the new king of my empire, while he’s the long-standing king of his. He refused to do business with my father, so long as he did business with Emma’s family, who he hates.

  “I’ve been called to an emergency meeting,” he states. “But we need to talk.”

  “I assumed as much since you surprised me with the visit.”

  “Why is Emma Knight here?” he demands.

  “Because I invited her here. Just as I invited you to the festival and you declined.”

  “Emma Knight is a problem for me, and you know it.”