All of Me: A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel

by Jackson, A. L.

  I pushed her against the bookcase that lined the wall, and she was gasping, torn between lust and fear.

  Like she was feeding off the exact same thing that was oozing from me. “Let’s be clear—love didn’t have a thing to do with what went down last night.”

  Hurt blanketed her face, her throat bobbing frantically with short, jagged pants. “Good, then we can pretend like it never happened.”

  Was she serious?

  Ignore this?

  Forget it?

  More likely, it hadn’t mattered to her at all.

  For a beat her eyes closed, softly, like maybe the girl was issuing a silent prayer.

  I wanted to reach out and shake her.

  Then she was slowly opening them, turning that mesmerizing gaze in my direction. A tidal wave to knock me off my feet. I was going to need a fucking anchor to survive this girl. “You asked me to take a chance on you, Ian Jacobs. Now, I’m begging you to take one on me. You are the only chance I have. I can pay you. A lot.”

  Fierce determination burned from her spirit. Somehow, it was muddled with shame as she rushed to unzip the big bag at her side.

  My chest nearly caved.

  Stuffed inside was nothing but stacks and stacks of bound cash.

  My eyes about bugged out of my damned head. Holy shit.

  Clearly, the girl was a whole lot more like me than I wanted to admit.

  Willing to do anything.

  Anything to get her to her goals.

  But hers were that desolating kind.

  Dreams that would crush you. Leave you nothing but rubble and ash. It was the kind of risk definitely not worth taking. But for her? There was no question that it was.

  A gutting worry almost clouded my mind, toyed with my senses.

  What did you do, Angel Girl, what did you do?

  Then a rush of anger boiled back to the surface. I couldn’t let this girl get under my skin.

  Obviously, she’d go to any length to get what she wanted. Use anyone. Just like she’d done me.

  I roughed a palm over my mouth to break up the insanity. Then my voice was dropping, my head angled as I gritted the words so close to her face that our noses were touching as I roughly zipped back up her bag.

  “It doesn’t matter how much money you can pay me. I can’t do this. You know it. I know it. We slept together. I could be suspended, or worse, disbarred, and the last thing I’m going to do is jeopardize my chances at becoming partner.”

  Not for her.

  Not for anyone.

  I swallowed hard. “And Reed Dearborne on top of it? Not for all that money you have in your bag would I take him on. I’d be a fool if I tried, and I’d still turn you down even if this was the first time I’d seen you. Taking that case would be career suicide.”

  Her chin trembled, and that same hopelessness I’d witnessed the first night I’d seen her doused her expression in defeat. She looked up at me, words so quiet, so low.

  A sharp, hot dagger.

  “I never took you for a coward, Ian Jacobs.”

  “And I never took you for a whore.” It was a knee-jerk response. Defense against her criticism that went bone deep. Against the truth of what she’d said.

  The second I released it, I regretted it. The way her entire being was rocked. The quiver ignited all the way into her soul.

  Like I’d physically injured her.

  I thought I must have.

  Hurt her in a way I could never take back.

  It was for the best.

  It was for the best.

  I needed to get her out of here. For good.

  “Wow, you really are an asshole, aren’t you? I shouldn’t have let myself forget it after the first time I talked to you.” Tears gathered in her eyes. She tried to fight them, but one streaked free, gliding down her cheek and dripping from her chin.

  Fuck me, I wanted to reach out and wipe it away. Tell her I’d give her hope if there were any to be had.

  But it was impossible.

  Only a fool would get involved in that kind of high-profile custody case.

  Against an asshole like Reed Dearborne.

  Especially a man like me with a girl like her.

  This girl who’d touched me in a way she couldn’t.

  The girl who was standing there with that big heart bleeding out all over my floor.

  An angel with a broken halo.

  This woman with three kids.

  Three kids.

  That right there had me wanting to crawl into the back of my closet and get cozy with all my skeletons. Snuggle up close. They’d be much cozier than dealing with the consequences of this.

  There’s so much we don’t know about each other.

  “I never claimed not to be an asshole,” I forced out through clenched teeth.

  Grace twisted out from between the bookcase and me, head dropped low as she headed for the door.

  I forced myself to stay rooted.

  Right then was not the goddamned time to grow a conscience.

  I was chanting, she did this, she did this. She knew all along. It was an ambush. A set up.

  But I knew that was nothing but a lie when she opened the door and looked back at me.

  Grief.

  Sorrow.

  It was signed on her just as boldly as my name was signed on Bennet’s falsified documents.

  She swallowed hard, and her face twisted in remorse. “And there you went and had me believing in fate. I guess I really am a dreamer, after all.”

  She sent me the saddest smile before she stepped out and quietly latched the door shut behind her.

  Both my hands went to my forehead, jerking through my hair. “Fuck!” I roared. I flew around and kicked the wall like it could take the brunt of what I was feeling.

  I threw myself into my chair, body rocking forward as I bent at the waist and buried my face against my palms.

  That motherfucking feeling was present again. Though this time it was stinging in my eyes and burning in my chest.

  A groan pulled from somewhere deep inside. Deeper than my guts. Deeper than my lungs.

  What the hell was I supposed to do?

  Fifteen

  Grace

  Trying to remain upright, I quickly glanced both ways before I rushed across the street toward where my car was parked at the curb about a half block down. My heels dragged along the pavement, held down by the piece of my heart and soul I’d left back there.

  I’d cut myself open wide. Exposed myself. Put everything on the line.

  Trusted him.

  That dirty money was burning a hole into my side where I had it tucked against my body, the rash decision I’d made the day I’d left Reed the final time. But if I was going to fight him, I needed money. What better money than his own.

  A car horn blared, the screech of tires coming from out of nowhere on the nearly desolate side street, and I lurched forward, fumbling to get out of the way.

  Tears burned in my eyes, the heartache and sorrow that I’d tried to keep shored up by the flimsy blockade I’d made around my spirit trying to leak through the cracks.

  I’d been doing my best to keep that well full of hope and belief and faith.

  Ian Jacobs might as well have punched a fist into my chest and ripped the barrier down.

  A dam that had burst.

  Toppled.

  Devastation underneath.

  I never should have let him in.

  The second I’d seen him, I’d known the man could wreck me with the barest brush of his hand.

  And oh, had he done a whole lot more than let those fingertips caress my cheek.

  A flashflood of memories from last night invaded my senses, my blood still pulsing with desire, with the remnants of that ecstasy he’d evoked in me.

  Skin tingling, my heart and belly took turns doing wild things. Thumping and thudding and turning upside down.

  Then he’d turned around and accused me of the most horrible thing. Acting as if I’d sought
him out, used my body as a weapon against him.

  Anger and hurt twisted around my heart, ribs constricting, everything too tight.

  Had he actually been serious?

  As if I could possibly wield the power to tie that man around my pinkie finger. Just a big red, sexy bow.

  Yeah right.

  I doubted that was even possible.

  He was untouchable.

  That heart so brittle and cold there was no chance of getting through.

  I’d given him myself. Offered him a part of myself that I never should have after I’d already known exactly how that was going to make me feel. How I’d already known I was falling when he’d shown up at my salon yesterday evening.

  Hell, I’d been falling all along.

  That should have been warning enough.

  Then I’d gone and pinned all my hope on him. A fool who’d deluded herself into believing that the connection we’d shared had been intended for something more. That it might have a greater purpose.

  Gasping for a breath, I fumbled to get my keys free from the small front pocket of the bag as I approached my car.

  The bag bounced around on my hip as if it were trying to break away from me.

  What the hell was I thinking carrying around the proof of my extortion as if it were a tube of lipstick that’d been forgotten at the bottom of a purse?

  My running lights flashed as I pressed manically at the fob, needing to get out of there before I lost my mind in the middle of the street.

  Jerking open the door, I tossed the bag across the console to the passenger front seat.

  I had to get away.

  Put space between me and the man who was making me do irrational things.

  A shriek ripped from my tongue when a hand landed on my forearm. Curling forcefully. Fingers painfully digging into my skin. Yanking me back.

  Fear burst.

  Volatile and violent.

  I whirled around, half led by my anger and half compelled by the force being exerted on my arm.

  I was sucking for the missing air when I saw who was standing there, the one who was pushing me back against my car and acting as if we were involved in nothing but a simple embrace.

  Oh, but I could feel it . . .

  His wrath spilling out over me.

  It was there in the short, jagged breaths that heaved from his lungs, from the clench of his jaw, and the hatred in his blue eyes.

  Hair flawlessly styled.

  Suit perfectly tailored.

  But where Ian oozed sex and intrigue, he did nothing but make my stomach curl with disgust.

  “Reed.” I tried to keep the whimper from my voice. The last thing I wanted was the bastard to think he could intimidate me.

  Sway me.

  But that didn’t mean every cell in my body wasn’t trembling, the man digging into my arm while he sent me a smile that any passerby would think was filled with affection.

  The seething hatred and the shock of fear that was rippling through invisible to the naked eye.

  But I knew that Reed was scared. And right there only made him a more dangerous man.

  “What are you doing here?” I tried to make it come off hard.

  He laughed a brittle sound. “You want to know what I’m doing here, when you just came out of one of the most prestigious law firms in Charleston.”

  I tried to yank out of his hold. He only tightened it.

  “It seems I’m in need of an attorney, doesn’t it?” I spat, his face so close to mine I was sure he could taste the venom that came with it.

  He tugged me closer to him. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Grace. Just showing your face here.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  He laughed a noxious sound, the man blond and tall and wide. Classically handsome, like any other hometown boy who was trying to make his small-town world his bitch.

  I refused to be any part of it.

  “I’m trying to knock some sense into you before it’s too late,” he gritted.

  Bitterness bled free, and my teeth were grinding, the tears of hurt that had flowed upstairs turning into something else entirely. This steely abhorrence that made me want to spit in his pretentious face. “I think you already know it’s exactly that. Too late.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Where are my children?” I challenged.

  The asshole.

  Showing up here when he’d given that sob story to the judge about how I’d tried to steal his children from him, how when I had, the only thing he’d felt was a gaping hole in his life.

  I’d like to show the prick a gaping hole.

  “They’re safe. That’s all that should matter to you. I hope you want to keep them that way.”

  Rage churned at the deepest depths of me, and when I jerked my arm this time, I ripped it free from his disgusting hold. “You’re right. That’s the only thing that matters to me. And I won’t stop until you are out of their lives.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re that delusional. You don’t actually think that’s going to happen, do you? That I’d let my children go? That I’d let you go?”

  Before I could make sense of it, he had me backed against the car, his hand on my chin forcing me to look up at him.

  My heart tumbled in fear, and I hated it, hated that he had the control to exert it. That I’d ever put myself and my kids in this position in the first place. “You’re going to regret complicating things. Come home. Where you belong. I love you.”

  If the way he treated me was love, I wanted no part of it.

  Nausea swirled in my stomach and sent bile climbing my throat. “And you’re a fool if you think I’m going to back down.”

  He brushed his fingers down my cheek. As if he adored me and his soul wasn’t deadened with greed. “I wish you wouldn’t say that. I’d hate to hear that something horrible happened to my children’s mother.”

  Terror rambled around in my chest and pushed against my ribs. I refused to let him see it.

  His voice dropped lower, sharp as a knife. “Where’s my money, Grace, and the folder you took from my safe?”

  “Who knows,” I told him, sending him my own threat.

  It was the only power I had. Those few pictures I’d found in his safe that day—the evidence I’d found that gave me the courage to run. I’d taken the money at the same time.

  It was the day I realized I had to be brave. That I could no longer cower and submit. I had to fight my way out of the castle or my children would be prisoner to it forever.

  “Wrong answer.” He tightened his hold.

  Fear surged and any firmness that had been in my tone turned to a trembling plea. “Just let us go, Reed. Forget that we ever existed, and I’ll do the same. You won’t hear from me, and neither will the press.”

  His body ticked in aggression when I mentioned the press, the man stepping back, releasing me, but his mouth was right there, at my ear. “You think you have the upper hand? You think your flimsy accusation is going to stand? You even step in the direction of a reporter, and things aren’t going to end well for you. The same as if I find out you’ve come back here. I’m finished playing games with you.”

  “Our lives aren’t a game.”

  “No, you’re right. Your lives are mine.” He took another step back and meticulously straightened the cuffs on his jacket. “You have two weeks to come to your senses, Grace. Two weeks to end this stupidity.”

  He started to walk away before he turned around, pointing at me. “Two weeks.” Then he jumped into the dark gray Jaguar sitting at the curb on the opposite side of the street.

  Frozen, I watched as he started his car and jumped out onto the small side road. Not a single car had passed in all that time, not a single soul to witness our altercation.

  Even if they had, it wouldn’t have looked like anything more than a lover’s spat, anyway.

  No one would know my world was crumbling under me.

  Time was running
out.

  I slumped into the driver’s seat of my car, clinging to the steering wheel for dear life, as if it were a buoy, a life raft.

  I refused to buckle. To surrender.

  I was going to race time.

  And I was going to beat it.

  Hands shaking, I finally got the key into the ignition and started my car. I drove back through Charleston and to the quiet neighborhood where I had been raised. I pulled into the narrow drive and stared at the little house that always seemed to radiate emptiness when my children were away.

  I forced myself to kill the engine and stepped out, the adrenaline that had been lining my bones draining, making me weak.

  I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. I went right for the comfortable living room, which was decorated exactly the same as it had been when I was a child. The only difference were the pictures of my children that had been added to the walls.

  Their toys scattered about.

  It only made the lack of their presence seem all that more profound.

  The second she caught the expression on my face, Gramma frowned and set aside the quilting project she was working on. She patted her lap as if I were four and just her holding me could chase all the demons away.

  I moved across the room and curled up on the couch, hugging that stupid bag to my chest and resting my head on the top of her thigh.

  She gentled her fingers through my hair. “I take it your meeting didn’t go well.”

  There was no stopping it. The dam that burst.

  Mostly, it was a result of the showdown with Reed. Hopelessness trying to find its way inside. To seed and plant and take root until nothing was left but weeds that had snuffed out beauty and life.

  But I’d gone and let a piece of my heart get broken, too.

  I’d opened myself up and made myself vulnerable.

  I might as well have stretched my arms out to the sides and welcomed the pain.

  A sob erupted from my chest, and I curled deeper into my grandmother’s hold. “No, Gramma. It didn’t go well. I was told again that only a fool would take my case.”

  Ian being the one who’d said it only made it all the worse.

  “Well, good thing there are a whole lot of fools out there,” she almost chuckled, my grandmother gifting comfort in a way that only she could.