by Violet Duke
Nothing risked, nothing gained.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she drove right up to the guard waiting for her outside his spiffy new hut, and went with a very original, “Hi. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking, Ms. Hart. How are you this afternoon?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “You know my name.”
“We have your car info and photo here on our list of individuals allowed on the premises.”
“I see.” She knew she was fishing, but she had to know. “Was it…Bennett or Donovan who put me on that list you have there?”
The big, burly security guard bit back a smile, clearly on to her. “No, ma’am. It was Mr. Grayhurst. Unfortunately, he’s been out all day and won’t be returning until tonight. I’m happy to leave him a message if you’d like.”
Of course he was out. He had a job. Unlike her at the moment. “I’m guessing you’re going to tell him I stopped by whether I leave a message with you or not, correct?”
His smile stretched a little wider. “You guess correctly, ma’am.”
She glanced at the clock on her dashboard and cringed. If he hadn’t heard about her current employment status, he would certainly figure it out now. Unless…“And if I perhaps said I’d stopped by here to return this”—she yanked out an old pen from her glove department—“really important item to Bennett, you would still tell Mr. Grayhurst I was here at three p.m. in the afternoon, wouldn’t you?”
Another amused lip twitch. “Yes, I’d relay every aspect of our conversation…including this part.”
Damn. Well that put a lot of pressure on what she should say next. She went with a blank, mute look as she contemplated how to proceed.
“The reason why I need to be this thorough,” he explained, his eyes downright chuckling at her now, “is because Mr. Grayhurst specifically requested I tell him everything you say, word for word, if you ever stopped by.”
Oh.
Good lord, even when he wasn’t there, the man couldn’t stop being Prince Charming. “Well, then, you can tell him I said that I think he should give his incredibly valuable security guard at the gate a big fat raise.” She looked at the little hut behind him. “And air-conditioning; this is Arizona, after all.”
A boisterous laugh rippled out of him then. “You just made my day, Ms. Hart. I’ll be sure to relay the messages.”
She sighed.
Classy and amazing…witty and charming…even mundane and non-insane would’ve done nicely. Why were these such foreign concepts for her filterless mouth?
—
Later that evening, Leila emerged from her bathroom with a clearer head. Power of a nice long bath.
Pulling on a robe, she hung up her towel to let her hair air dry as she padded into her living room. Bottom line, she should’ve called Jackson first, simple as that. Next time, if there was a next time, she’d call first. After all, normal people don’t just show up and—
“Jeremiah’s AC is getting installed tomorrow.”
With a startled gasp, she grabbed the nearest blunt object and spun around.
“Hey, sunshine,” came the low, sexy growl she’d been hoping beyond hope that she hadn’t hallucinated.
“Jesus, Jackson, you scared me.”
Looking impossibly more handsome than she remembered, he closed the gap between them in three strides and gently pulled the big industrial flashlight out of her hand. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called first.”
Well, now she didn’t feel so bad.
She drew in a long, deep breath to slow her breathing. As a still recovering pulmonary post-op patient, it was just plain good sense, really.
Inhaling his sexy, familiar male scent in the process? Just a coincidence.
“How’d you even get in here?”
Jackson looked like he was doing a little deep breathing of his own. It was good they were both trying to keep their lungs healthy. “Mike, my security guard—you remember him—apparently has some skills not listed on his résumé. Since you still have a few photographers roaming around here, we thought his picking your lock and sneaking me in here was safer.”
Leila groaned. “Are they back? They’d been leaving me alone for a few days now; I sort of thought that storm had passed.”
“Sadly no. The paparazzi can be pretty ruthless.”
She frowned. “God, you must have it even worse. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you to have them reporting on your every move.”
“I couldn’t care less what they write about me. But I’d just as soon cut my own heart out than let them continue to bash you the way they have been.”
The grim reminder of all that had happened between them served as a dark cloud in her apartment. Leila walked over to her couch and dropped down onto the cushions tiredly.
Jackson took a seat on the ottoman in front of her and rested his elbows on his knees, all the while, quietly studying her expression.
Who knew something like where he chose to sit would sting this badly?
“You came by my apartment building today.”
She nodded. But she didn’t know how to answer his silent question.
He gazed at her for a beat. “Is something wrong? Something you need?”
She shook her head. Cripes, she didn’t think it would be this hard to see him. To be this close to him and not rush into his arms. “I just…wanted to see you. I didn’t know the last time you and I talked was going to be the last time we’d ever get to talk,” she attempted to explain without sounding completely bizarre. “If I had known, I…”
He gave her a crooked grin. “You wouldn’t have told me I was tragically wrong?”
Startled, she blinked. “What?”
“Those were your last words to me, sunshine. We were swapping predictions about the upcoming pre-season NFL games, and you gave me a kiss and said the only way I could be more tragically wrong was if I were to predict hail in August, flying out of a snowman’s butt.”
Oh goodness gracious, he was right.
Falling face-first into a nearby throw pillow, she mumbled emphatically, “That makes the whole thing ten times worse. Your last words to me were in that beautiful note. And I talked about a snowman’s ass. What kind of parting memory is that?”
He chuckled. “A good one. Why do you think I remember it so clearly? It captures everything about you that I adore in one memorable moment. All the sass, all the sunshine. All the ways you make me smile.”
“But…” Unshed tears flooded her eyes. “I didn’t get to tell you anything beautiful and heartfelt. If it’s the last thing you’re going to get to say to a person, they should hear you say that sort of thing. In your letter, you told me you loved me—” The dam on her emotions finally broke down, and a deep, fast-growing ache in her chest stole her breath.
What she’d said to Caleb when he’d left her apartment the other night resounded in her head. Jackson had left her a note to make sure that she knew exactly how he felt. So she’d never doubt his love for her.
She never had the chance to do the same for him, to give him the same closure he’d gifted to her. Voice a quivering mess now, she murmured, “Then you left.”
Jackson stared back at her in dark silence, his hooded expression unreadable.
Dropping her eyes down to the ground, she admitted softly, “A part of me believed you’d come back to see me, at least one last time. Even if it was just to let me defend myself and explain why I was at Nate’s house on the day of the shooting. Even if you did, in fact, imagine the very worst of me, a part of me still waited.” Her first tear fell. “But you never came.”
“You have to know that I wanted to. I stopped myself countless times, Leila. I just…couldn’t bring myself to see you.”
“Why not?” Her words sounded as tiny as she felt. “Why’d you send Bennett and Donovan over to check on me every single day for almost a month?”
“Because I wanted to be sure you were okay. I wanted you to know there
were people there for you. That you didn’t need to settle for those awful people you call parents to care for you, and worry about you, and love you.”
“And you didn’t feel like I’d want to do the same for you as well? That I’d want to reassure you after all Nate tried to do to you? To be there for you?” She met his gaze fully then. “To tell you I loved you, too?”
His pained eyes rose to meet hers, the raw emotion in its depths shooting arrows into her heart. “Honestly? No. Look at everything you went through because of me. I truly did think it was better if I were no longer in your life.”
“If you really believed that, then why have your security guards be on the lookout for me?”
“In case you had no other options. I told my entire security team to watch for you and let you in no matter what. So you’d always have a safe place to go if you ever needed it. Jeremiah was supposed to let you in whether I was there or not. I made sure to clarify that part for him again. My doors will never be closed to you, Leila.”
It was too much.
The answers were more than she expected, more than her heart could take when he was so close, and yet so far away. For every door he’d left open for her, it still led to the closed door to his heart.
But a girl could still hope.
Slowly, she began walking over to him, each step scarier than the last as she braced herself for the possible rejection that had the potential to utterly devastate—
He met her halfway and crushed her in his arms.
“I never thought I’d be able to hold you again,” he whispered roughly into her hair.
She didn’t, either. Sinking into his fierce hug, she held on, all the while wondering if she’d ever survive it if he let her go again. “Even if you believed you were doing what was right or best given the situation, how were you able to stay away?” she asked him, putting her raw, wounded heart on the line. “I wasn’t able to. Even though I was positive you probably hated me, I still came to you. Why didn’t you come back to me, Jackson?”
“Because,” he answered finally, in a low, tortured voice, “Because I can’t bear to look at you anymore.”
Chapter 34
Leila felt everything inside of her shatter.
What she once thought was heartbreak, slow and agonizing over the past five weeks, paled in comparison to the pain she was feeling now. Every emotion was a shard of broken glass that made her bleed even more, every thought and memory like salt on each new laceration.
She struggled to get out of his arms.
But he wouldn’t let her go.
“You misunderstand, sweetheart. I couldn’t bear to look at you without hating myself.”
She stopped fighting him. “What?”
“You almost died, Leila.”
“Jackson—”
“Don’t Jackson me. Let me finish. When you were in the medically induced coma, you used to cry in your sleep. It never lasted long, and honestly, I don’t know that any of the nurses would’ve caught it because you did it so quietly, almost silently. But I saw it. And every single tear tore me up inside. Every stich, every drop of blood, every X-ray showing me the injuries inside of you that I couldn’t see. All of it gutted me.”
A jagged breath gusted out of him. “The first twenty-four hours after your surgeries were the worst. You coded three times, Leila. Every time your vitals dropped and the nurses and doctors raced in to save your life, I thought that was it. That I’d lost you. And I stood there raging against the world, knowing that the person I should really be raging against was myself. You were in that bed fighting for your life because of me.”
She gasped. “Jackson. How can you blame yourself for any of that? I don’t care what lies the shooter is saying now, he was there to get revenge on your brother. This had nothing to do with you.”
“This had everything to do with me,” he shouted, backing away from her as if he could poison her by touch alone. “You know as well as I do that he used you. I don’t know how and frankly, I don’t even care what the whole story is behind how you got tangled up with him, but he used you to get to me. From the very start.”
“No, Jackson. You were never part of it. Not at first.” She frowned. “At least…I don’t think. I don’t actually know.” Sighing, she attempted to explain. “I didn’t even know who Nate was or even know he had anything to do with my hire until after the fact.”
Jackson sighed. “That sounds like something he’d do.”
Leila brought herself back to that day all those months ago. “I’d just finished my interview at the network. I got a call from an unknown number, and I answered it, thinking it might be about the job. It was Nate. He didn’t tell me his name, he just said he was with Grayhurst Industries, which”—she cringed in apology—“I actually didn’t know anything about, sorry. I know it’s your family’s entire legacy but I never really bought into the whole billionaire hype.”
Jackson’s mouth twitched up at the corner. “As if I didn’t already have enough reasons to adore the heck out of you.”
That gave her just enough strength to continue. “He told me that he was the one responsible for me getting the interview. He had my HR records, knew my work history, knew I wasn’t the most qualified for the job. Just like I did.” She couldn’t meet Jackson’s gaze. “When I didn’t hang up on him, he told me that he’d make sure I got the job. But I’d owe him a favor one day.”
A muscle ticked in Jackson’s jaw.
“I wanted to hang up. That voice in my head kept telling me to. But…I didn’t. I kept listening to him assure me the favor wouldn’t be dangerous, or illegal. But it would be nonnegotiable. All I had to do was accept the job when it was offered to me. If I did, he’d take that to mean I accepted his terms.”
“Leila, how do you know you didn’t get the job on your own?”
“Because he knew things he couldn’t possibly know unless he had connections with the hiring panel. He knew which of my answers had them frowning. He knew what specific things they’d pointed out as areas I was weak in. And he knew everything about the woman I’d been chatting with in the waiting room, who had all the right experience and accolades.
“He also knew that the caller ID showing up on my call waiting at that exact moment was them.”
Shame spread like a virus through her system. “Sure enough, they offered me the job, stating that though I wasn’t the strongest candidate, I had impressed the right people who were—quote, unquote—‘looking forward to what I could do one day.’ ” A bitter laugh shot out of her. “It was the exact wording he’d used when he’d mentioned the favor, Jackson. And even though I knew, in my gut, I knew I was making a deal with the devil, I took the job. Because I wanted it. It was my dream job, right there for the taking, so I took it.”
Pulling out her phone, she scrolled through her text message inbox and showed Jackson the screen. “I got this text as soon as I hung up.”
Good girl. I’ll be in touch. Enjoy your gift, you earned it.
Seeing the offensive message again effectively did what none of the tabloid stories about her over the past month and a half had managed to do.
She couldn’t even think the word.
Hated thinking she’d exchanged a service of any kind for money.
The thing was, she didn’t have to say the word to feel the effects of it.
—
Jackson could hardly contain the anger in his voice when he saw the look on her face. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare let Nate fill your head with his toxic nonsense. You’re an amazing reporter, Leila. I don’t care if Nate pulled some strings to get your foot in the door. He had nothing to do with what you managed to accomplish after you got the position.”
“Said every politician who had a crooked start,” she murmured softly.
He gripped her shoulders. “This is not the same thing, and you know it. You didn’t even know who he was when he called you.”
She turned her sad eyes up to his. “I actually didn’
t know who the voice belonged to until the day of the shooting. When Nate’s assistant called me and asked me to come to his mansion, I went thinking it had something to do with you. I didn’t figure it all out until I heard him speak.”
The instant shuddering flinch jolting her small frame was like a bullet to her heart. “His voice…It’s the same voice I’ve had in my head since the day he got me the job, the same voice mocking me every time someone would congratulate me for a job well done. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever hear his voice say anything that would make me feel worse, or taint my job any more.
She broke her gaze away in something akin to horror. “That is, until he told me that the favor I owed him involved me planting fake evidence in your apartment.”
Traumatized disgust transformed her expression. “I felt sick to my stomach. At that point, I didn’t care one lick about my job. I didn’t care if the whole damn league found out a corrupt billionaire was responsible for my hire. All I cared about”—she locked her eyes on his—“was getting to you, warning you what Nate had planned. So I told him to go to hell, then I took the envelope of doctored evidence and made a run for it.”
Her hand went up to her chest unconsciously. “That’s when the shooter came in.”
Even though Jackson had known she would’ve reacted that way to Nate’s plans, it still meant something to hear it straight from the source, to see how strongly she’d fought back.
He frowned then, remembering one of the main reasons why he was here. “Then was Nate responsible for your termination at the network the other day? I just heard about it. I’m not sure why it took me so long to get word—”
“It’s because I had the network sign a nondisclosure.”
“You had them sign one?” After studying her for a beat, he asked quietly, “Did they fire you, or did you quit?”
Her jawline tensed, and that stubborn defiance he’d missed seeing so damned much sparked fire in her eyes. “I’m not at liberty to discuss—”
“For godssake, Leila. Why on earth would you quit? That was your dream job.”
