Triple Major

by Lana Hartley

  It was murky territory I didn't want to wade in. I could feel a lightness in my body imagining a day when I didn't have to deal with any of this shit. The clear, still water of my freedom, it would be mine, soon. I would make that happen.

  Of course, I had to hang over the edge of my existence and find myself at the most dangerous place. Sneaking around Jacob's house...well, I knew that if I just tried to do that and not get caught, I was setting myself up to fail.

  Sipping the drink from Tatiana and following her lead back to the car, I summoned my most logical, clear head to strategize.

  No, I'd have to play the game by his rules. I needed to make the thing I wanted him to do his idea, his concession. I would have to make him show me around. He'd started a conversation with me that I was going to have to finish, continue so that he thought I was trying to get used to him. Give him an inch, get miles away from him. That's what I told myself.

  So how come I found myself met with a brain freeze (the new drink was good) and the crushing fear that I was more afraid of knowing him than I was of tricking him into thinking I wanted to know him?

  He was a mystery. I just didn't want to need to solve that mystery. But I was going to have to give in to that curiosity and make sure I could use some of the genuine feelings I did have because that was how I could get what I wanted without him suspecting a thing.

  I just wondered how many concessions I was going to have to make before there was nothing left of me. I wanted to get out to be me. But even though I'd accomplished something I thought impossible, I still wondered if that was my last bit of luck. If my luck did run out, what would that leave me with?

  "You like, huh?" Tatiana said with a grin, tipping her drink up in my direction. "Green tea Frappuccino, strange but good. Still, super sugary, too many damn calories. Which is why we need to go the gym next."

  I knew it was on the list, but I realized that she made a good point. Well, she didn't make it, I came to a good choice because of what she said. "Yeah, I like it! I'm thinking I want to learn how to fist-fight. Boxing. Martial arts, something like that." I was going to learn how to defend myself on Jacob Renaud's dime. I probably couldn't take on him or his goons, but I was going to give myself a fighting chance if it came to that. I was going to need the skills in my new life, too, because I was never going to let anyone take advantage of me again. I didn't want to feel weak. I wanted to be in control

  Tatania talked to the driver, discussing some different gyms, I assumed by their names, and then some people. There was something in the conversation that I didn't quite grasp, but it didn't seem like a bad thing. Whatever it was, I figured I had enough to worry about without a mystery I couldn't solve right now. They'd come to an agreement, and we were off. I didn't look out the windows this time. I decided to try and watch Tatiana, without seeming obvious, I hoped. To see what she might be doing. It looked like she was texting. And it could have been anybody. But it could have been Jacob Renaud, and I had a feeling it was.

  Leah

  "Were you actually doing business with my father?" I figured I needed to ask. If for no other reason, so I could attempt to wipe what I assumed was a stupefied, weak look off my face. I figured being sassy was better than being weak any day. I made sure that he heard the disdain in my voice, equal parts directed at my father and at Jacob Renaud himself. Both equally earned, I could assume.

  I tried to recall what he said that night, but right now I was building up to a healthy level of seething rage at my current situation and my ensuing helplessness. I fucking hated being in another situation where I couldn't control what was happening to me. But the standoff wasn't helping. I was going to talk to him if only to satisfy my curiosity, and his. Because that smug bastard look was doing things to me...making me angry, and making me wet if I was honest.

  I so didn't want to be honest in that moment, either.

  I looked at him as he started to speak, in hopes that he'd be honest.

  "In a manner of speaking," Jacob began, his cryptic words shading his voice with a lilt of humor. "Your father believed that I was merging one of my firms with his, but really I was stealing some of the art collection that I simply don't know how he even had taste enough to acquire."

  Well, that was not the answer I was expecting. I felt my eyes widen in the instant reaction I had. He seemed to enjoy that.

  "What were you stealing, not the-"

  "Oh, you know I was," Jacob interrupted me, standing suddenly and making me jump a little at his movement. "It was the only possession your father had, other than you, that wasn't incredibly tacky." He walked to his bar and poured some scotch into two highball glasses, bringing one back to me and setting it down. "Now, I have them both."

  Tentatively, I took the glass. At first, I was afraid. I had never really drank much. Just tried it a few times, and I wasn't sure that I liked the way that it made me feel. But I realized there was no reason to fear anything more from Jacob. What difference would some alcohol make?

  "So you stole the DiMagerlay," I said, taking a small sip. It was warm to my lips, hot going down, and shocking. But I liked it. I took another drink, a bigger one this time, but by no means a gulp. It wasn't lost on me that Jacob was watching me, studying me, and it seemed like enjoying my exploration of his scotch. I let him have it and ran my tongue over my lips. I couldn't deny, not to myself, that I enjoyed the ramping of power that I felt when he looked at me with such desire. Of course, it should have dampened my urges to know that if I made him want me more, he'd take me more. And I should be trying to stop that...right?

  I finished my drink and walked over to the bar, pouring myself more and turning to look at him, holding the decanter up to ask if he'd like more. He nodded, then slowly made a come hither motion at me.

  I walked toward him. The weight of our words now was nothing compared to the growing heat in the air. I was touching something dangerous, yet I couldn't keep my moth-self away from the dangerous flame of Jacob Renaud. I was utterly ensnared by him. Right now, as he was telling me how he ruined my father, I didn't have too much of a problem with it. It was difficult to keep stock of what I wanted, what Jacob wanted, what I wanted to celebrate, and what I wanted to prevent now. I took another drink of my scotch, topping it off again, and then walked over to him.

  "You came to ruin him. You always come out on top, no matter what big boys are playing with their company toys, don't you, Mr. Renaud?" I asked, slinking toward him and reaching out to pour him another healthy glass of the rich amber liquid.

  He grabbed the decanter from my hand, placing it on the table. "Yes, yes, I do. Your father's shitshow of his attempt at having an empire will be ruined, and I'll be buying it at bargain basement prices, just to bury him. End him.”

  He had a face of utter smug satisfaction. I couldn't help but cheers my glass, clanking mine into his and then taking another drink.

  "I have the most valuable thing he ever had," Jacob said, and instead of sounding utterly smug and revolting about owning me, there was some dark power to his words that sent shivers through my body. I turned on my heel to return my seat, but he captured my wrist, taking my drink, and then pulling me down to sit on his lap, all while never spilling his drink.

  "Slow down, princess," Jacob said with a laugh.

  "I can handle myself, and if I can't, that's my business," I said, a lot more pouting in my voice than I would like. I just wanted to say something fucking sassy to ruffle his feathers and push him away, but sitting on his lap was making me feel the alcohol more. Suddenly, all the drinks I'd had were definitely starting to wear on me . I wasn't going to say it, but I was glad he stopped me.

  Jacob took a sensual drink from his glass, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight of him drinking in the liquid with such elegance. He wasn't anywhere near tipsy. Jacob drank this sort of thing on a regular basis and handled it just fine. No, his full, sensual lips were wet with the scotch. Would taste like them too. They were such soft lips, formed the perfect comp
lement to the rest of his chiseled face. I looked at his dark eyes now, traveling up his face the only way I could manage to stop staring at his mouth and wanting to kiss him. They were looking at me not with the same assholish, smug way they seemed to be much of the time. They weren't studying me. He seemed...vulnerable almost. It was a rare glimpse, and when his eyes met my gaze, that look flashed from his eyes. It evaporated, overtaken with a look of pure hunger. Jacob's eyes became that of a predator. I knew here I was the prey. And, coloring outside the lines with this new tipsy feeling in my body, I let the frenzy overtake me, and I captured his glass. Surprisingly, he let me take it.

  I dipped a finger inside and wet the tip. I went to put it on his lips. Those lips, I wanted to touch them. I wanted them to touch me. I didn't connect with his face and instead brought my other hand to the zipper on the back of my dress, tugging it down enough to let me free my breasts. I popped off the bra that was the only thing between them and freedom, and then I ran the scotch over my nipple.

  A fire crackled between us. Jacob took that glass now and, never spilling, he brought my nipple to those lips, flattening his tongue over the aching flesh peaking for him, and then kissed it. Shivers sparked through my body, and I was desperate for him now. I had a taste of what it felt like for him to really fuck me, and right now, I wanted more.

  "Fuck me, please," I panted when his mouth had released my breast. I didn't mean to sound so desperate, but I couldn't bear the idea of him not touching me more. I needed so much more.

  I dared to let myself look in those eyes again. I wanted to fall into them. In fact, I could almost see the melodramatic swaying of my limbs as I fell forever into the bottomless pit of Jacob Renaud's soul. Who would be there to catch me? No one. That was the point. And I couldn't bear another moment of the conversation we were having, and I couldn't fight how he made me feel when he touched me.

  It killed me to want him, but the way he touched me made me feel alive.

  Leah

  Fuck, what had I done? I'd spent so much time trying not to want Renaud, that I didn't realize he'd stopped being that person to me. He was Jacob to me, and now it was all too late. Now, I'd found a way to actually separate myself from him, and that plan was in motion. Irrevocable motion. And I wanted nothing more than to stop it.

  "Jacob," I yelped, saying his name in my mind and not the usual Renaud.

  He regarded me inquisitively. There was doubtless a strange tone in my voice. But I didn't know what to say.

  So I said nothing.

  How did I manage this? I'd fought so hard to find a home of my own, and now I'd be leaving the only home I'd known. Him.

  "What were your parents like?" I would ask him a question. It would throw us both off guard. I knew when he inhaled that I'd sufficiently shifted the situation from my little outbreak to the focus being on another one of my prying questions. Why couldn't I accept that there were things that Jacob didn't want to talk about?

  I knew why now...

  Because I wanted all of him. And now I was practically mocking that with this question.

  He ran his thumb up my arm, stroking a line while he took measured breaths.

  "My mother was my father's muse. My father was an artist, and a rarity at that, he was rather wealthy," Jacob said as if he remembered something very specific though saying very vague things.

  Of course, I would pry. My curiosity wouldn't have it any other way.

  "Is that where you started noticing things you'd steal for fun?" I asked, genuinely curious.

  "It was when I started to think I wanted to be an artist. There was a passion between my parents, her the subject and him the artist. I realized, after much toiling, that she was as much the art as the artist's canvasses were." I noted that distant look in his eyes and his words twisted in my stomach. "I gave up creating art, but I didn't get a taste for stealing it until much later. I didn't even make use of any of my father's contacts when I started doing art thief gigs. I run in much higher circles than he ever did."

  I couldn't quite place the emotions playing over Jacob's face. I ran my hand over his face, his eyes closing and accepting my touch. How did I have this titan of a man so gentle in my hands?

  How had I not realized that I didn't want to let this all go? I wanted to scream at how much I wanted to stop everything I'd set in motion. What could I do now?

  I sucked in a breath of my own, planting a kiss on each of his closed eyelids. I rested my head on his chest.

  Jacob started to stroke my hair. It was a gentle, comforting move that seemed like the most natural thing in the world to him. The man who had done so many things to my body was undoing my heart with a simple weaving of his fingers into my hair. "Did you know your mother?" Jacob asked me.

  "Not really. My father gave her money to keep me, and she had no interest in me. She just moved on after the payday,” I said, my voice small. I had always been something to be bought and sold, and I'd fought against this, now to my own peril. Suddenly, the warmth of Jacob's embrace wasn't enough to keep me from the chills I felt. I knew that once he discovered my betrayal, he was going to hate me forever, rightfully. I deserved that. I didn't deserve to be in his arms. I couldn't bear the hate that I felt inside. I had let down the one man that I'd actually wanted to own me. I did now. I don't know who I am without him, and I thought that I was going to find out. Now, I can't even bring myself to pull myself out of his embrace. Jacob holds me tighter and thinks I'm just cold, probably, but I can't stop them, and the tears are falling now. I want to hide them, but they're already streaking down my cheeks and wetting his shirt.

  "Leah?" Jacob asks me, his voice thick with passion. I feel his cock hard beneath me, and I know he wants me. He always wants me. I let out a small laugh. I thought that could never change, yet here I am, ruining us. I want our goodbye kiss to be a good one, though. I tell myself that I should let myself have this moment with him, and then I'll be gone. He will never forgive me. Never want me again. So I have to savor this moment with him.

  His thumb is capturing my tears but can't keep up with the sobs that wrack my body. I want him. I don't want him to ask me what's wrong. I don't want him to care. I want him to hate me and cast me aside. I want him to tell me that I'm not worth owning. I've betrayed him, like a bad dog that though he's fed and cared for still bites him. I rebelled against everything he gave me. I treated him like he was everyone else in my life, but he was different. He wasn't just claiming me, owning me, he was giving himself to me. And I'd thrown that all away without noticing that I was doing exactly the wrong thing.

  "Are you okay?" Jacob kissed my forehead. My throat was scratchy from crying, and I couldn't speak. "Baby girl," he breathed into my hair.

  I grabbed his face with both of my hands, pulling him to me and kissing him deeply. I poured my soul from my lips to his, emptying myself in him. I wanted to take everything in me that loved him and hide away in him. Keep me safe from myself.

  "Leah-" Jacob broke the kiss and held my face up to his, forcing me to look into his eyes. "Talk to me," he said. He could have thought this was just about our conversation, but I felt my face heat. My cheeks were red enough to reveal my traitorous ways, I was certain of it. "Tell me what's wrong."

  Well, not enough to reveal everything. I should have manned up and told him right then what I'd done. That I'd be gone tomorrow and that Interpol would be after him. I'd given them damning evidence about several of his crimes, and they were high profile. I'd told them that he'd bought me from my father. They said they were going to take Renaud down. And when I'd delivered that final piece of evidence, I'd felt how I didn't want to do it. The officer told me that it was normal that I'd feel conflicted, but that he was going to protect me. Peter Willoughby, the same name, and initials of my father. He should have made me feel safe. The way that he looked at me, how he wanted to save me, that should have felt right. But I knew. The conflicted feelings that I felt weren't about my need for making sense of my captivity. Jacob had told me,
I was not trading one cage for another. He gave me every opportunity to have a life, and I fought against it. I saw now that Jacob's world, it may not have been that different from my father's world on the surface, but Jacob was a good man. He was my good man, and I'd thrown him to the wolves, condemning him as if he was a monster like my father.

  I remembered Jacob telling me he was a bastard. That it was why he'd never be like another lover would be. I'd never had another lover. But I thought I was the bastard now. Not him. Jacob had given me everything in him. I closed my eyes and said nothing, the silence between us sealing my sentence as much as his.

  He would probably be sent to some horrible prison, made to be an example to other powerful men. I would be forced to live with what I did forever.

  Because if I called Inspector Willoughby right now, what would he say? Oh, you love him and none of what you told us matters?

  As if. Jacob Renaud was a criminal, and a powerful one. Yet, I'd help them build exactly the kind of case that could get him in serious trouble.

  Leah

  It worked last time. I asked someone if I could use their phone, and then I could call Inspector Willoughby and give him the information I'd memorized. Every waking moment, I'd made myself memorize the notes on the other paintings I'd found in Jacob's collection. I'd made myself remember the inspector's phone number. I spent so much of the day repeating those numbers in my head; I thought I was going to dream about them.

  But every night, I dreamt about Jacob. Strange things, odd things, and things that made me wake up in a cold sweat and, if he was there, made me curl up to him. I even felt guilty that I'd given him a blowjob and swirled the number into his cock. I'd pressed my head deeper on his cock and swallowed afterward, sucking his cock with every last drop of energy, and it was like I have to get the evil I've done off of him.