She looked around and then stepped a little closer to me, indicating for me to lower my voice. "Would you like the chance to speak to him? Alone?"
She drew back a little, a frown creasing her brow. She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear and hedged, "I don't really think he'd want that."
"But if he did...would you want that?"
She pressed her lips together and then shook her head. "He wouldn't want that," she repeated. "Jordan believes in his own form of karma."
I'm sure she meant that cryptically, but I understood nevertheless. She knew about Jordan's payback for her cheating. I wondered if Jordan knew that.
We stared at the monitor for the rest of his allotted eighteen minutes. He smoothly wrapped up his subject with a charismatic, self-deprecating smile and a gleam in his eyes that could make panties melt. Mine were definitely feeling warmer than normal.
Cynthia turned to go just as I saw Jordan exit the stage to widespread applause. I stopped her, asking her about the meeting with the journalists who wanted to speak with him in a few hours. By the time she answered me, Jordan had walked into the room, confident and grinning. He opened his mouth to say something to me before catching sight of Cynthia, who had frozen at my shoulder. The smile slid off his face.
I walked up to him. "Hey there," I said. "You have an appointment in an hour with the USA Home Weekly journalist. Until then, you're, uh...on your own," I said with a pointed glance at Cynthia.
His eyes narrowed and he swallowed but didn't say anything as I walked out of the room. He'd probably be pissed at me, but when else would he have a chance to clear the air with her, if not now?
I could tell it had been bugging him since last night when he'd seen her. Likely it had been bugging him a lot longer than that. I couldn't get the image out of my head of him staring pensively into that glass of whiskey. I was convinced I'd done a good deed and that he'd understand and probably thank me for it. Hopefully. Eventually.
But when I heard from him a few hours later...yeah, not so much.
He was pissed. His face looked like a thundercloud when he made it back to the penthouse. He said nothing before hitting the stairs, and I knew enough from what I saw that I immediately hightailed it into my little butler's pantry. I'd put on my pajamas and cuddle under a blanket with one of my favorite books. Maybe he'd wander out again. Since avoidance was my method of coping, I was good at it.
I had my top and bra off, about to go grab my nightie, when there was a knock at the door. Before I could call out that I wasn't dressed, he'd pushed the door open. I covered up with what I had at my disposal--my hands.
Jordan had changed into a sweatshirt and jacket with leather logger boots on his feet. He still wore those jeans that stretched across his muscular thighs.
"Uh, excuse me!" I huffed, cupping my breasts in my hands.
His eyes dropped to my chest, lingered for a moment, then met mine again. "Weiss, I had my hands and mouth all over those last night. What's the problem?"
My skin flushed and prickled with the heated memory and how good it had felt.
I tossed my head. "You didn't have the murderous gleam in your eye last night that you have right now."
His jaw clenched. "Get dressed in something warm and meet me by the elevator in five minutes."
I would have mock saluted him, but he'd already turned his back and pulled the door shut. Not to mention I was still using my hands to cover myself up.
I pulled on a pair of jeans, my Doc Martens, a sweater, scarf and a light jacket, which was all I'd brought other than business attire. I hadn't thought I'd be getting out much, and my idea of British Columbia in the fall had apparently been vastly different from reality. Because I'd lived in Southern California all my life, I wasn't prepared for wintery weather in September. But apparently, September in Vancouver was along the lines of winter at home.
Jordan was silent, austere and refused to answer me when I asked him where we were going. Down at the valet parking, he picked up the keys to an SUV that had been dropped off by a local rental company. It was a Land Rover, though not as nice as the one he drove at home.
There were blankets and a box in the back seat. In minutes he was on a highway headed north--the Sea-to-Sky Highway, it was labeled.
"Are you taking us out of town so it will be easier to hide my body?"
He smiled grimly but didn't answer, instead fiddling with the GPS. He'd set the destination for some place called Porteau Cove Provincial Park, which looked to be on the road to Whistler, about an hour north of the city.
We drove along the inlet out of West Vancouver, along Horseshoe Bay and its massive ferry port and the dark, looming shapes of big islands off the coast. The tension between us was thick, and it didn't help that Jordan made no effort to start a conversation. I stared out the window and drummed my fingers, wondering why the heck he was taking us out into the pitch-black night.
An hour into our drive, he followed the GPS directions to turn off the road into the benighted park. We crossed over railroad tracks and into a mostly empty but large parking lot that overlooked the sound. There wasn't a single light along the coastline, and with the moon just a thin sliver, all we had to light our way were the stars.
So many stars. I'd never seen this many at once before. I leaned forward, peering out the windshield, my mouth agape. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head turn, watching me. I was uneasy. There was no one out here but us. A long pier stretched out over the quiet, dark bay. According to the signs, it was for a ferry that apparently visited sometimes but was currently missing. He could easily strangle me and then dump me over the side of that pier...
I turned to him.
His eyes glittered in the dim light. "Come."
I folded my arms across my chest and huffed at him. "How do I know you aren't going to ditch me out here like an unwanted dog or something?"
With a gruff laugh, Jordan got out and slammed his door shut. As reluctant as I was to follow the command that sounded much like something he'd say to the aforementioned dog, I followed him. He was walking toward the pier, and I trotted to catch up with him. It was chilly out here. Even through my quilted jacket and fashionable wool infinity scarf, the evening nipped at my cheeks.
"Are you pissed at me?"
"What do you think?" he asked in a flat, even voice.
"Why did you bring me out here if you're so angry?"
"Because I planned this before you pulled your shitty little stunt."
I was silent for a moment, struggling to keep up with him, as he was making no effort whatsoever to make his pace manageable for me. He took one stride for every three of mine. Abruptly, he came to a halt and veered to the railing at the side of the pier, where I joined him. We were about halfway down its length, just before hitting the slope of the loading ramp.
His hands were in his jacket pockets, his eyes on the ground in front of him. A cool breeze tugged at my hair, bringing tears to my eyes. He pulled out a knit beanie and gloves, handing them to me. I thanked him and slipped them on.
At that moment, my eyes caught on something along the horizon. A band of greenish fog had risen up. It was lovely. But... green fog?
"What the hell is that? The zombie apocalypse?"
"Aurora Borealis," Jordan muttered.
"Northern lights? You can see them this far south?"
"Sometimes. I saw the forecast for them tonight, so I asked the concierge for a good place to go see them. Some place dark enough and away from the city. He got me the rental."
I watched as, slowly, the green light arced upward from the horizon, like fingers grasping at twinkling celestial jewels. The streaks of light grew into emerald tendrils curving across the dome of stars, transforming everything into a giant cathedral of light that stretched into eternity. They moved like distant phantoms, reflected on the still water of the sound.
"So beautiful."
Jordan bent forward, resting his elbows on the railing without taking his eyes off
the beautiful vision in front of him. "It's like...magic really does exist," he said reverently.
I was comforted by his demeanor, relieved that he appeared to not be as angry as he claimed. I took a deep breath and decided to take a chance. Reaching out, I placed my hand on top of his. "I really shouldn't have done that."
"There're a lot of things you shouldn't have done," he said between clenched teeth, jerking his hand away. That action hurt and I swallowed the feeling, knowing that I probably I deserved it.
"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"
"Maybe. But only if you were actually sorry, which you aren't."
"Was it that bad?"
He stiffened but didn't answer me. In the silent night, there was only the gentle lap of the bay water against the shore.
"Do...do you still love her?"
He huffed out a laugh, a faint cloud of vapor escaping his lips. "Don't be idiotic, please."
"Then--"
"She deserved what I did. Got it? She destroyed me. You have no idea. There was not another person on this planet that I trusted more than her. "
I watched him carefully. "So I take it you had nothing to say to each other?"
He rubbed his forehead. "No, that's not what that means."
"I didn't do it to hurt you...I hope you know that. I was trying to help--"
"You have no fucking idea what will help and what won't. Keep your nose out of it from now on."
His words hurt. Of course they did. But I couldn't take my eyes off the way he was white-knuckling the railing of the pier. Something about that confrontation with her had deeply distressed him. Either because of what he'd said or what he hadn't said.
"I see. So no one is allowed to care. Not your grandpa. Not your mom. Not me."
"I never asked you to care."
I craned my head to get a look at him. "You didn't have to ask me."
He bent down to get in my face. "Don't do it, Weiss. It was sex. It was good. Don't fool yourself into thinking it was anything more than that. You're not my girlfriend. You're not even my friend. Got it?"
Tears sprang to my eyes and I jerked back. A slap across the face would have felt better. That was beyond harsh. But he didn't care. I huffed at him. "Reading you loud and clear. No one is allowed to care."
"You're not allowed to care. You're just another one who's fucked me over."
I blinked. Now he was referring to the video. My mind raced to things he'd said before...about how he wasn't a nice guy. He'd told me he got back at people who screwed him over.
"I see. So that's what last night was about? Revenge?"
"Last night was about sex. I already told you that."
"How many ways can I explain to you that uploading the video was an accident?"
His eyes blazed into mine. "Why should I believe it? You've got me over a barrel, don't you? If I don't write that glowing recommendation, you can go to my boss and--"
I gasped and held up my hand to stop him. "Don't even finish that sentence. I've never threatened you and I never will."
"You didn't have to. You had me by the balls before you were ever my assistant."
It made no sense for him to think that. Until two days ago, I had no idea he was even Falco! But he was so wound up right now, he clearly couldn't think straight.
"No wonder you're afraid of people getting too close. Believe it or not, Jordan, we don't all think and act like you do. Some of us refuse to let that darkness poison us."
"So now you're the Dalai Lama? Stop acting like you know anything about me, because you don't know shit. About me or about how the real world out there works."
His words pelted me like rocks in the middle of my chest. My first instinct was to throw some right back at him. But I didn't. "This world is a mighty dark, disturbing place, the way you see it. If everybody's out to screw you, then you're on your own, because the only person you'll trust is yourself. You're going to end up being very lonely."
He said nothing, just shook his head and let out a scornful laugh. Tears were starting to fall now, and I angrily scrubbed them away when he wasn't looking.
He had a point. It was my own fault that I cared. But it wasn't like I was a machine. I couldn't turn that off.
"I feel sorry for you."
He spun, his face twisted, angry. "Feel sorry for me all you want. People shit on me, I get them back--twice over. I'm proud of that. You want to know the real reason my father won't look at me? Because I went after the fucker who screwed him over. His partner, and, I might add, a family friend, cheated my dad out of millions. I got him because Grant Fawkes was too much of a coward to stick up for himself. So when I got the dirt on that asshole and got him to cough up the money, the old man wouldn't touch it. Said it was dirty." He huffed out a bitter laugh. "I took his fucking dirty money and invested it in my company. His loss, my gain. Karma is for pussies. I make my own."
I gasped at his words that closely echoed Cynthia's. She was right. I backed away from him, hugging myself in the chilly air but feeling even colder inside. I didn't want him to see my emotional reaction. Why was I letting him get to me like this? I spun on my booted heel and headed back to the car.
A few seconds later, I heard the sound of his quick footsteps bearing down on me. I sped up, knowing I could never outrun him but hoping to clue him in that I had no interest in continuing this conversation. I wasn't going to be his punching bag.
I headed around the side of the SUV in order to get in when his arm hooked around my waist, stopping me. He pulled me back against his hard body. Once again, the air was sucked out of my chest and I could barely swallow because my heartbeat in my throat felt so big and intrusive.
He pressed his face against my hair and then muttered harshly, "Who the fuck do you think you are, my conscience?"
"I'm just a person who cares..." I whispered.
"Don't do that. You are not allowed to care." His voice was hard, like rocks grinding together.
"I can't help it."
"Yes, you can."
"Not everyone in this world is out to get you."
"What is it you want, Weiss? You want to fix me? Good luck with that. Work on fixing yourself first." He wound his fingers through my hair, holding my head still.
I swallowed. "You're a bastard."
"But I'm the bastard you want." He pressed his lips to the back of my neck, and I would have jerked away at the contact had he not held me immobilized.
"As long as it's just sex," I ground out sarcastically.
"That pulse in your neck says one of two things." He ignored what I said--as usual. "Either you want me or you are scared shitless of me. Which is it?"
I struggled to inhale. "Both."
His breath warmed my hair, my ear, the back of my neck, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine. "Good."
Even if he hadn't done anything else, his words were enough to cause all the breath to escape my lungs. His mouth pressed against my ear while his hand slid beneath my jacket, under my sweatshirt and smoothed across my stomach. He angled us toward the front bumper of the car as his mouth landed on my neck, making the world spin around me. His hands on me were harsh, kneading my breasts. His mouth pressed against me, nipping and sucking. Hot desire flooded my every sense, and I was filled with a hyper-awareness of him. The way his hard erection pressed against my butt through my jeans, the way his hands cupped and rubbed me, the way they slipped under my bra, pushing it up and away from my breasts to free them for his pleasure.
Soon he had us bent over the hood, one hand working furiously at the button on my jeans. Was I going to let him use me for sex? Hell, why did I even think about it like that? He was the one who had insisted it was just sex--out-of-this-world amazing sex. I could use him for sex, too. Sex was as good an outlet for anger as it was for desire.
"Jordan--"
"What?" he asked as he tugged my zipper down, wasting no time burying a hand inside my panties. His fingers curled upward, finding me even in the tight confines
of my jeans. I gasped, as his fingers worked against me. "You are so goddamn wet for me. You gonna tell me you don't want it? Because I know it's a lie. "
"I'm pissed at you," I panted, angry at myself over my automatic, intense reaction to him. "I don't like you very much right now."
"You don't have to like me. Just as long as you like what I'm doing to you."
My eyes slammed closed and I squeezed them tight as his hand started to move, sliding over my clit. "That depends on how good you are."
"Oh, I think you already know how good I am. But if you don't want it, then tell me. Otherwise I'm going to fuck you hard and fast, just the way you want it. You want it that way, don't you, April?"
I gasped again, the pleasure of his fingers pressing against the bundle of nerves at my center painting warm pleasure over my stomach, my thighs. With each stroke, he gained more command of my body. He was casting his spell again, reeling me in to do his will. And it felt. So. Damn. Good.
"Mr. Fawkes," I breathed. "You are being inappropriate."
One of his hands palmed my breast, the other continued to push me closer to orgasm. He pressed his mouth to my ear. "You love it when I'm inappropriate."
I was close--so close. Everything in me tightened when he stopped and pulled his hand out of my pants. With a quick tug, my jeans and panties were around my knees. I shivered. Jordan pulled off his jacket and laid it against the car in front of me. It was warm with his body heat, and I sank into it even as I heard him unzip his jeans and fiddle with the packaging of another condom--courtesy of the concierge, I presumed.
I didn't care, as long as he had one and as long as he used it as well as he had last night.
"Well, that wasn't impressive," I said after he pushed into me with a fierce thrust. "You could have at least let me come."
"Tough shit," he said, hooking a thick arm around my hips while he braced the other against the hood of the car. "You'll get your orgasm. When I think you deserve it."
"Asshole."
"That's right. I'm the asshole whose cock is owning you. Right now."
He pushed into me again, then slammed into me repeatedly with a ferocity he hadn't shown the night before. The car rocked with our movements.
Inside me, he felt so good. He was big, stretching me with every thrust, sinking deeper inside me, and soon I was moaning and panting for more. My moans echoed into the dark night and seemed to drive him harder.
For the Win Page 25
