by Jen Talty
Except, his father’s legacy followed him wherever he went. Even Jackson’s Oscar win had been tainted when a gossip entertainment show ran a piece about his father, focusing on his father’s past transgressions and not all the things Jackson had accomplished, in spite of being the offspring of an outcast wolf.
No one blamed Jackson, but people seemed to enjoy reminding him in subtle ways of the stock to which he was born, especially his own wolf pack who had all but ostracized him and his family. They received the same protection under pack law, but no alpha wolf looked at him as another alpha, much less an equal inside the pack. Even their leader shunned him in ways that made it impossible for his younger siblings to take a seat at the table.
“I can’t believe of all the actresses out there, Amanda has to be the one for this part. She’s a two-bit actress. A soap star, at best.”
“You need to see her final audition tape. Lamin went bonkers over it, she was so good. And you know Lamin, he’s never satisfied.”
“Heidi would have been perfect had she not turned out to be a psycho-crazy bitch.”
“Sit down and relax,” Paul said, leaning back in his oversized chair behind a massive desk that was way too big for the space. “We’re working on a positive spin.” Paul had produced a half-dozen movies that Jackson had starred in, including the one that won him the Oscar.
“How do you make the fact that my father killed my co-star’s uncle, positive?”
“We start by not sleeping with this one.”
Jackson burst out laughing, only it wasn’t a real laugh. More like a sarcastic hackle. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. Besides, I bet she asks for a kissing double. God forbid her princess lips touch the descendant of her uncle’s murderer.”
“She’s technically a Lady, and I need you to be professional at all times.” Paul glanced at his phone. “She just passed security, so she’ll be here in about ten minutes.”
“What!?” Jackson stiffened his spine. He’d seen dozens of images of the princess or lady or whatever her official title was, and he’d even watched one of her movies, but he never imagined he’d ever be in the same room with her. He blinked, remembering passing her on a plane once. She’d been sitting in first class, sipping a cocktail with some other woman, giggling. She took his breath away then with her grace and sweet smile. He’d never seen her in person again, not even after the plane had to make an emergency landing.
“We thought it would be a good idea to get all the concerns out in the open before we make the announcement.”
“Her family can’t be on board with her doing this film with me,” Jackson said, raking his fingers through his hair.
“That brings me to the final blow for today.”
Jackson let out a long breath. He couldn’t wait to hear this one.
“Her father, Prince Alfred, is coming with her.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. He’s one of the most powerful warlocks to walk the earth. He’s probably going to use some magical potion or witchcraft, and no one will ever find my body.”
“I better never hear you talking like that again. Makes you sound like your father. Is that what you want?”
“No,” Jackson muttered with a low growl. The last thing he ever wanted was to be compared to his asshole father.
“Good. Because I’ve put a lot of money into this film. I had to push Lamin hard to work with you again, so I expect you to pull your weight and then some.”
As if Jackson had ever not gone above and beyond in any role he’d ever been offered. He’d always been the consummate professional. It wasn’t his fault he had bad taste in women and the last two went all ‘fatal attraction’ on him. They’d both been all sweet and loving during the first couple of months. But their true colors showed soon enough. Jealous and shallow. Considering Jackson’s childhood, he tended to judge people by how they treated the wait staff, or anyone in a lower position, and those two women thought they were all that and more. Above everyone else, forgetting that someday their looks would fade, and some younger hottie would come and take their place.
“I don’t understand why you’re so willing to create such controversy by casting Amanda.”
“Controversies sell tickets.”
Always about money in this business. “What if I said I would back out if she were to remain on the film?” He’d never played the top billing card before, and it left a bad taste in his mouth, but he really didn’t want to relive his father’s crime once again.
“Then we shake hands and say our good-byes.”
“You want her more than me?” Talk about kicking a man when he was down.
“It’s not personal.”
“Right.” Jackson stood and took a few strides to the door. “I need a minute to clear my head before this meeting.”
“You’re making the right decision.”
Jackson pulled back the office door, and there stood the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Once again, she stole his breath with her long ash-brown hair bouncing playfully over her shoulders. Her bright-blue eyes were lined with plush, thick eyelashes that batted liked butterfly wings.
His lips tugged into a smile until his brain registered that he was staring at Lady Princess Amanda Windsor. At least that is what he thought her full royal title was.
“Oh, hello,” she said. Her plump lips moved in perfect unison with the sound of her voice.
He cleared his throat, trying not to notice the menacingly tall man with the eyes that were almost black, standing behind him.
“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” she said, her smile small, but still sweet. “I’m Amanda Windsor.”
He nodded. “Am I supposed to call you Lady or Princess or something?”
“I prefer Amanda, but if you must know, my official title is Lady until I marry, then it will be Princess, but we really don’t take much stock in that these days.”
“All right. Amanda it is.” He shoved his trembling hand out. “I’m Jackson.”
She nodded. “This is my dad, Alfred.”
“You can call me Alfred, except in public, and then I do prefer Prince Alfred.” His low voice rumbled the air. “I’m not sure if you remember, but we met shortly after the trial.”
Nothing like jumping right into the past and his father.
“I remember, sir. You came to my home.”
“You did what?” Amanda snapped her head in the direction of her father. “Why didn’t I know this?”
“You were six years old at the time. Why would you know?” Her father draped a large hand over her shoulder.
She wasn’t short by any means, but she looked dwarfed against her father’s frame.
At six foot two, Jackson had to tilt his head to look the man in the eye. Those eyes had both terrified and inspired him all those years ago.
“I wanted to let his family know that we didn’t hold anyone but his father responsible for your uncle’s murder.”
“My mother always appreciated the gesture; only the rest of your family didn’t see it the same way.” Jackson chomped down on the inside of his cheek before he continued down this dangerous path of things Princess Alley had said both privately and publicly. She’d all but threatened to cast all sorts of spells over Jackson and his family. Who knew, maybe they had. Jackson knew very little about witches and their magic, and he preferred to keep it that way. He didn’t socialize with any witches that he knew of, instead keeping his circle of friends to humans, shifters, and a few wolves who did their best to forget the shame his father had brought to the pack.
“It was a difficult time for everyone, which is why I’m here. I want to minimize any bad publicity for my daughter. And for you.”
“Please, come in, come in,” Paul said, rushing over, waving Amanda and her father into the office. “Thank you so much for coming.”
An awkward silence filled the room as Prince Alfred took the large wingback chair in the corner, leaving the small love seat to Amanda
and Jackson. She eyed him, before sitting down and crossing a set of toned legs that went on forever, shaped by form-fitting jeans.
He swallowed, taking a seat next to her, trying desperately not to touch her for fear that he’d growl like a horny pup.
“My secretary has been fielding calls all morning, and there is a lot of speculation about who is being cast in this film, so the sooner we make a statement to the press, the better,” Paul said with a slight tremor in his voice.
Prince Albert leaned back, folding one massive leg over the other. Jackson thought he looked more like the mob than royalty. There were a half-dozen rumors about dark magic and the Royal Family since they’d risen thousands of years ago during the witch hunt of the fourteenth century. It was believed that the Windsors weren’t really the bloodline of the Coven of the Silver Flock. That black magic had been used to remove the Royal Family, replacing them with witches and warlocks that dabbled in the dark side, waiting for the opportunity to create mayhem.
This, of course, was always laughed at now since so many myths about witches had been debunked over the years.
“When would you like me to have the press conference?” Prince Albert asked.
“This afternoon, if you can arrange it.”
“I can have one within the hour, if you like, but I will warn you, the only members of the Royal Family that will be present are myself, my wife and daughters, and of course, we’d expect Jackson to be present.”
“Wait.” Paul raised his hand. “What about Princess Alley?”
“I’m sorry. My sister won’t be giving her blessing.”
That didn’t surprise Jackson one bit, considering she’d said publicly time and time again that wolves were dirty creatures. Savages. Murderers, and they should all be banished. Whether she had believed that before the murder or not, didn’t matter.
“And the rest of the family?”
“My younger siblings and their families will sanction the film, but they won’t be part of any public announcement. Only myself, my wife, and Amanda’s sisters will make any formal statement. That said, I believe that as far as the initial announcement goes, that should come from Amanda and Jackson, with me at their side.” Price Albert spoke with the kind of authority people didn’t question. His tone made even a grown man sit a little taller.
“I want to cut off all rumors before they even begin,” Prince Albert said.
“That’s going to be impossible,” Jackson said, shifting in his seat, painfully aware of the beautiful young woman with her hot thighs just inches from his. “It just occurred to me that by making such an announcement, it could make it look like a publicity stunt to begin with.”
Prince Albert arched a brow. “You make a valid point, son. Amanda, what are your thoughts?”
“Same as this morning, Daddy. If we make a big stink, so will the press.” Amanda glanced in his direction, those damn eyelashes floating over her eyes, mesmerizing him. “My two cents are we focus on the film and our excitement over it. If you’re standing by my side, they will know you support me. They are going to make their speculations, and some family members will comment, others won’t, but as long as Jackson and I stay focused on the film, I believe the press will move on after a few days.”
Jesus Christ, she was as well-spoken as her father, and the sound of her voice rolled over his ears like a warm ocean breeze.
“So, your suggestion is that we don’t go to the press first?” Paul asked.
“No. I’m saying we don’t make it about the Royal Family endorsing the film. We make a public announcement now with my father present. We could even focus more on the fact that Jackson and Lemin are working together for the first time since Jackson’s Oscar win.”
“I’m sure that will be brought up no matter what,” Jackson said, tossing his arm over the back of the sofa. God, he wanted to touch her. “But I like your idea. Let the studio make the announcement.”
“I’ll make the necessary arrangements,” Paul said.
“Jackson,” Prince Albert said. “I have to ask. How do you think your family is going to take the news?”
“My mother will be fine with it, but to be honest, my siblings aren’t going to be as supportive and neither will my pack. Not because I’m working with Amanda, but because I will be bringing disgrace and shame to them once again by taking this role.”
“You do no such thing,” Prince Albert said, sitting up straight. “I will play this however the two of you wish, but I won’t put up with anyone blaming you for something your father did when you were ten years old. I’ve put a protection spell on my daughter, which will help her through this uncertain time, and with your permission, I’d like to put one on you.”
Spells, potions, hexes, voodoo dolls, all things foreign to Jackson. He didn’t understand witches or witchcraft. The good witches lived by the laws of the land, and they couldn’t use it to bring harm to anyone, or for their own betterment of career or monetarily. So, what was the point of being a witch?
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Jackson said.
“If you change your mind, the offer is always there.”
“I appreciate it.” Jackson, totally aware his arm was on the back of the sofa behind Amanda, shifted, dropping his hand onto his lap.
This woman had him completely unhinged. A low rumble formed in his throat. He needed to shift and run in wolf form, relieving him of all the tension she put in all the places he didn’t welcome.
She was out of his league, in more ways than one.
An untouchable.
Besides, he was sure his contract, considering his last two co-stars, would specifically state that he couldn’t sleep with her. He almost laughed out loud.
As if Lady Amanda would jump into the sack with a werewolf.
Much less the son of the man who killed her uncle.
Chapter 3
Amanda heaved in a breath, only to have it cut short and burn her throat.
Panic hadn’t been anything that she’d ever experienced before, not even when she performed live. Acting, whether it be on the stage, in front of a live audience, or on a set, she’d never felt a pang of fear. She’d given speeches as a member of the Royal Coven to tens of thousands of people and on live television to millions and not once did she feel anxious to the point she felt ill.
Nerves? Yes. But those weren’t anything like not being able to breathe.
She sat on the bench with her head between her legs in the hallway of Media-Max’s lobby where the press couldn’t see her.
Hopefully.
Two strong hands massaged her back and shoulders. She kept trying to shrug them off, but their owner wouldn’t go away.
“Relax,” Jackson said. His lips were so close to her ear she could have sworn he had kissed her, only she knew better. No way would he press his mouth to her cheek. He could barely stand to look at her. During their meeting, he kept darting his gaze away and shifting as if sitting near her made him crawl right out of his human skin. She bet if he could have, he would have shifted into a wolf and sat in front of her, baring his long, sharp teeth in a bone-chilling growl.
“Where’s my father?” she managed.
“Do you want me to get him?”
“God, no.”
The air she sucked in singed her lungs, and she couldn’t get enough oxygen to stop her heart from racing wildly out of control. She remembered the lead actress her senior year of high school having a panic attack ten minutes before curtain call. Oh, how she had wanted to cast a spell to make sure that poor girl couldn’t go on stage, so she could take over as understudy. But she chose not to, and Amanda ended up watching from backstage.
“All right. I think he’s still in the lobby.” Jackson’s voice rumbled inside her, sending warm pulses through her body. The second she’d laid eyes on him in Paul Ricter’s office, her palms felt tacky with perspiration, and every erogenous zone she had went into overdrive. She’d found him attractive in pictures, but damn, in person tho
se different-colored eyes would knock any woman out. His right eye was a reddish-orange, and his left eye the color of the deep blue sea. It was difficult to pick one to focus on as each commanded attention.
His dark, wavy hair flowed to his shoulders. His scent, a mixture of orange with a splash of mint, filled her nostrils, making her even more dizzy when she stood in front of a dozen reporters, all of which she’d met before, while Paul and the top executives gave a statement about the film and the co-stars. She’d fielded a couple of questions, as did Jackson, but as soon as they ended the session, she made a beeline for a private corner to fall apart.
“Fuck. This isn’t like me,” she muttered, not knowing why she felt the need to quantify her behavior, as if she had any control over a panic attack. Once one journalist brought up the murder, the room had grown silent. She knew she had to be the one to assure the press that the Royals held no ill will toward Jackson and asked that everyone leave the past where it belonged.
That had been the moment terror gripped her skin like a million tiny needles penetrating her flesh.
She clutched her chest. Maybe she was having a heart attack at the ripe old age of twenty-eight.
“Look at me,” Jackson said with a tender voice that brought the boiling of her mind and body to a simmer, calming her.
The last thing she wanted to do was stare into his eyes, much less look at any inch of his taut frame. Having his hands on her was too much to bear.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve had one of these before?”
She sucked in a breath, only to cough and gag on it. Shaking her head, she tried to fill her lungs, this time slowly.
“Trust me when I say it will pass. You just have to ride it out and be as calm as possible.”
“Because the great Jackson Ledger’s never panicked in his entire life.” Sarcasm had always been her go-to in private situations with family and close friends.
Jackson was neither.
He laughed. “I’m not great, and I used to have these kind of attacks all the time when I was younger and first starting out in this business.”
