by Ann, Jewel E
“Man whore!” she seethed.
“Jessica!” Grant warned.
Jude emptied his entire glass of champagne down his throat then merged into the throng of people, giving her a sly look over his shoulder, the proverbial sticking his tongue out at her.
“I don’t understand how he ended up that way. You and Mom have the perfect marriage. He should be settling down and starting a family, not sticking his dick in every open hole.”
The thoughtful look on her father’s face gave no reassurance. If anything, his expression held an air of sadness. Then he dismissed her without a single explanation or affirmation that what she said was true.
“You’re going to have your hands full, Doctor Jones.” Grant turned and walked away without giving Jessica a second look.
Her jaw dropped to the floor.
“Don’t.” Luke pressed two fingers below her chin to close her mouth.
She batted his hand away. “I’m tired of everyone saying ‘don’t’ before I have a chance to say anything, like I’m so fucking predictable. You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“True. But I know what you’re thinking and your words only have a two-second delay from your thoughts.”
Jessica planted her fists on her hips. “Funny, I thought you were a psychiatrist not a psychic. But please, by all means tell me what I was thinking.”
Luke waited to speak because his words had more than a two-second delay from his thoughts.
“And don’t you fucking smirk at me, Jones!”
His lips pulled tight, fighting said smirk. As only total-control Luke could do, he took a deep breath, composed himself, and channeled his inner shrink.
“I was in the middle of composing a speech to yet again reassure you that we are Luke and Jessica, not Grant and Sunny and not Jude and every woman he’s used to suppress what’s really going on inside him. But you’re so mad at me I now think this is not about you doubting our future, I think …”
She leaned in, dying to hear his brilliant explanation. “You think what?”
Then it appeared. Fucking smirk.
“I think you’re jealous Jude has it anywhere and anyway he wants. He doesn’t abide by any set of rules or moral expectations.”
“W-what? You think I’m jealous … of him?”
“Are you not? You’ve been undressing me with your eyes since I put on this suit and tie. You’re rarely censored anyway, but tonight you’ve been dropping f-bombs like marbles rolling off a table. I know you want to take me in the men’s restroom and have your way with me. I bet you’d use this red tie to restrain my hands behind my back before riding me, whip in one hand, a fist full of my hair in the other.”
The only man who could render her speechless, did it again. He was right. She had an anger inside that festered, but the real reason for it had not seeped into her conscience. It wasn’t PMS. It was just a feeling, an undefined feeling. Her emotions were an effect without a cause. Jessica hated that feeling.
However, her inability to define what it was did not hinder her ability to know what it was not. And it was not the need to take Luke into the hotel restroom and sexually dominate him. She knew it and so did he. Luke Jones was so much more than a doctor and a man. He was a phenomenon—someone who simply existed in life for Jessica. Destiny was real and it stood before her in a sharp black suit, red tie, and argyle socks.
The anger evaporated, giving way to a smile meant only for the man who saved her from her own insanity by drowning it in his love. “I worship the ground you walk on.”
A blinding smile grew along his face as he pulled her into his arms and whispered in her ear, “Impossible. When I’m with you my feet don’t touch the ground.”
*
Luke played it cool like he wasn’t counting down the days—to the exact second—until Jessica would be his wife. Holding her together to get to the altar seemed to be his biggest obstacle. Every day she fought the demons that threatened to steal their happiness, the ones that haunted her with self-doubt that happily ever after existed.
It didn’t really take a degree in psychiatry to see that Jude was all kinds of fucked-up. Why? Luke didn’t know, and Jessica didn’t seem to have any clue either. However, her parents seemed to be hiding something. He’d seen it in Sunny’s eyes the day she and Jessica had their infidelity argument. Grant confirmed it by not reassuring Jessica, his precious baby girl, that he and Sunny had the perfect marriage. The coward didn’t even look at her. Luke knew she saw it too, but denial buffered reality from her heart.
“Hi, sweetie.” Sunny hugged Jessica before everyone took a seat at the large round table adorned with cranberry topiaries alternating with votives and cylinder champagne flutes with a single evergreen sprig.
“Mom, everything looks amazing.”
Luke pulled out her chair then leaned down and kissed her exposed neck as he scooted her forward. “That smile looks much better on your lovely face,” he whispered.
She raised her arm and ran her fingers through the hair at the nap of his neck, as if to hold him close for an extra few seconds. That same hand took the life of a serial killer. It didn’t seem possible. He adored her touch. He craved it. He lived for it.
“I can’t take credit for any of it. Everything was donated.”
“But someone had to get the donations.” Luke smiled at Sunny as he unfolded his napkin on his lap.
“I have great friends.”
“She has influential friends.” Jude took his seat on the other side of Jessica.
Grant seemed to tense as much as Luke did. The chances of a food fight or brawl breaking out between the two siblings was higher than average that night.
“I’ve met people from all walks of life during my years of volunteering. But yes, the influential ones make thousand-dollar-a-plate holiday charity dinners possible.”
“Why don’t you just give this food to the homeless instead?” Jude gave his mom a pointed look.
Jessica grabbed her brother’s leg, knuckles white, but he didn’t flinch.
Luke liked Sunny. She always paused for thought before responding, the only one in the Day clan that wasn’t a hair-trigger.
“You’ve been attending these dinners for the past eight years, my dear son. What part about ‘everything is donated’ don’t you get? The hotel donates the room, three different catering companies donate the food, two local florists donate the decorations, and the band is also here tonight free of charge. Every year we pick two local charities to be the recipients of the money. But the reason this is such a success is because we use the holiday dinner as an opportunity to personally thank each donor and let them know how their contribution changes lives.”
“Stop being such an ass,” Jessica gritted through her teeth.
Jude shoved his chair backward, making a weak effort to give the guy behind him an apologetic look for ramming into his chair.
“Of course I’m the ass because coddled little Jessica could never be an ass.” Jude stood, towering over his sister.
She balled her hands. Luke grabbed her arms, her muscles steel beneath his touch.
“Both of you out.” Grant stood with an air of authority, attempting to level his twins with a glare that brought the temperature of the room down below freezing.
Jerking from Luke’s grasp, she stood, eyes narrowed at Jude. He turned, shoving his way through the sea of people with Jessica on his heels.
“Let them go.”
Luke squinted at Grant. He respected Jessica’s parents, to a certain degree, but their lack of doing anything to diffuse the situation between Jessica and Jude left him questioning their morals. Pondering their parenting skills had to wait. Luke barged through the ballroom doors, looking in both directions. They were gone.
*
“What the fuck is going on with you?” Jessica grabbed the sleeve of Jude’s suit jacket as he stomped toward his black Jetta parked in the hotel’s parking ramp.
He whipped around, jaw clenche
d, anger simmering in his eyes. She didn’t back down. Jessica would never back down from her brother.
“Go back to your mommy and daddy and your Prince Charming. Go live your fucking fairytale.”
She shook her head, anger in her belly, tears in her eyes. “Fairytale? Are you serious?” She shoved him.
He growled, fists clenched at his sides.
“I’ve pulled off the greatest illusion in the history of the world. Luke loves me. He thinks I’m redeemable.” Her voice cracked on the last word as tears spilled over. She motioned between them with her finger. “We both know I’m not, but you are.”
Jude widened his eyes. “You’ve taken one man’s life. A fucking serial killer who murdered your best friend. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve killed? I’m a killer disguised as a computer engineer. I fuck women like most people chew gum because I know things about love that would break you.” He leaned down until she could see every speck of pain in his eyes like shards of glass embedded into his soul. “I could obliterate your last shred of sanity.”
He stood, his jaw set like chiseled stone. “Now go before I do or say something I’ll regret.”
“Stop protecting me,” Jessica whispered.
Something gutted him and she felt it. That was their bond. It would forever be an inseverable bond. There was nothing worse than feeling his pain but not seeing it.
“Sorry, princess. It’s my job to protect you.”
“Hit me, asshole. But don’t take the coward’s way out with all your bullshit name calling.” She shoved him again. His degrading comment rekindled her anger. “Do it. DO IT!”
Jude looked over her shoulder. “Not today. Wouldn’t look good in your wedding photos.”
“Fuck you, coward.”
Pressing his lips together, he gave her one last look then turned and walked to his car. “Yeah…” he mumbled in defeat “…fuck me.”
Jessica turned, tugging at the hem of her dress stuck to her heel. She looked up and froze, ignoring the black Jetta that sped past her.
“Let him protect you.”
“Luke, I—”
“Just …” He walked to her.
Would she ever feel truly worthy of him?
“Just let him.” He lowered his beautiful body, kneeling before her on the abrasive concrete in his custom-tailored pants.
With a squeeze of her hands, his desperation broke her heart.
“I’m begging you. Let him protect you. Leave your past. Leave it for me.”
Sniffling, she nodded while wiping the tears from her face. “It’s just that I feel it … I feel his pain and it’s so deep.”
“I know.” Luke stood and hugged her to him. “After the wedding, I’ll talk to him. Okay?”
She nodded, but the comfort of Luke’s arms didn’t overpower the fear that Jude’s words embedded in her mind, a bomb waiting to go off without a breath of warning—destined to shatter her world.
Chapter Sixteen
Knight
The woman who never ran late found herself running quite late to her first job. Sex with Jackson Knight, self-professed murderer, could do that to a woman. His confession demanded her attention, but she didn’t want to acknowledge any of it. The most unexpected feeling of happiness felt within her grasp. Just for once, she wanted to take it. Damn the consequences.
A quick kiss on Gunner’s head and she scurried out the door, ice melt crunching beneath her feet as she walked to the garage. As soon as she shut the door, her phone chimed. Plopping sideways into the driver’s seat, she banged her boots together as she jabbed her hand into her purse in search of her phone.
“Maddie, hi, sweetie. What’s up?”
“Hey, Mom.”
Despite running late, Ryn paused mid-motion of fastening her seatbelt. First, Maddie called her which was rare. Second, her tone was friendly—too friendly.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m having issues with one of my professors.”
“What kind of issues?”
“He’s … interested in me.”
Ryn latched her seat belt. “Sounds unethical.”
“It’s kind of creepy. He’s old, like your and Dad’s age.”
Ryn closed her eyes and shook her head. There was always a verbal slap in the face when it came to her daughter.
“Are you certain he’s interested in you?”
“He’s my International Law professor. I’m not doing so well in that class. He offered me extra credit.”
“I’m not seeing how that’s a problem.”
“There is no extra credit for the class. He summoned me to his office to offer it to only me. When I got there he told me if I was interested to lock his office door behind me.”
A nauseous feeling settled in Ryn’s stomach. “You need to say something to the Dean of Students.”
“Dad is friends with the dean.”
Just the mention of Preston made the sick feeling in Ryn’s stomach intensify.
“Have you told your dad about this?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He said I need to pass the class.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“He thinks I’m too close to being done with school to start making waves.”
“Making waves? Reporting sexual harassment is not making waves.”
“Dad said my professor will deny it and it will be his word against mine, then he’ll flunk me.”
Ryn rubbed her temples. “I’m still not following. He doesn’t want you to report your professor, but he doesn’t want you to flunk the class either. So—”
Maddie sighed her usual sigh, the one that conveyed her frustration with Ryn. The OMG-Mom-you’re-so-dense sigh. “So he said that some of the most successful women in the world had to suck a few dicks to get to where they are.”
“He said what?” Ryn saw red—blood red.
“Calm down. I was shocked at first too, but the sad part is he’s right.”
“Maddison!”
“I’m not going to do it, so don’t get mad at dad for telling it like it is.”
“He wasn’t telling it like it is, Maddie. He was encouraging you to turn a blind eye to sexual harassment, but even worse, he basically told you to say yes to your professor! That is not okay and I’m not mad at your dad, I’m fucking furious!”
“Oh my God! Did you just say the F-word?” Maddie laughed. She actually laughed.
The girl had no clue how serious her situation was, thanks to her father downplaying women sucking dicks to get ahead in life.
Still parked in the garage, Ryn rested her head on the steering wheel. Thankfully her first client was out of town and would never know that she was late, but it set the pace for the rest of her day. Late. Late. Late. And pissed. Seriously pissed.
“I’ll deal with your professor and your father. You just stay away from both of them.”
“I have class this afternoon. It’s not going to help my grade to skip class.”
“Fine. Go to class, but don’t put yourself in the position to be alone with him again. Got it?”
“Whatever. But if I flunk this class—”
“If you study harder, you’ll have no reason to flunk it. And let’s just be clear on one thing, my dear daughter. Some of the most successful women in the world got to where they are in life not because they sucked a few dicks, but because they stood up for themselves and refused to take it up the backside.”
Ryn ended the call before Maddie could shoot back a snide remark. Maddie always took her father’s side, but someday—if she were lucky enough to get married and have children—she would finally understand the love a mother has for a child. Ryn’s love knew no boundaries, not even the ugly, unappreciative, and deep-cutting jabs to the heart. Her love for Maddie would always be unconditional.
If it weren’t for Maddie, Ryn would not have lived to see forty or Jackson Knight. Preston physically and emotionally beat her to the lowest depths of Hell
, but Maddie, her little blonde with pig-tails and bright eyes, kept her breathing—brought her back to life again and again.
*
“Jackson? Did you hear me? Jackson?”
All eighty-eight keys stood idle. Why weren’t they moving? It was a fucking piano lesson, the least she could do was pretend to play, anything to drown out the nagging doubt of Jillian’s wellbeing.
“Time’s up. I have to pick up my kids from school.”
His eyes shifted, following the sound of the voice. The curly-haired brunette wearing a low cut mother-slut-of-three-kids blouse that revealed every detail of her lace bra continued to move her lips. The words began to register like someone turned up the volume to a muted TV.
“Great. Practice it again this week.”
“But I played it perfectly.” She thrust out her chest as if she’d played the piece with her nipples and they were waiting for a reward.
Jackson grabbed the sheet music and tossed it on the floor. “Then let me hear it again.”
Shock grew in her eyes as perfectly-glossed lips parted. “I can’t play it by memory.”
“Then it would appear you still need to practice it. Wouldn’t you agree?”
She deflated. He didn’t care, not that day. Luke calling, Jillian’s proverbial fuck-off still on the table with a dead battery, and his inability to do anything about any of it, severed his last bit of patience. Jackson needed to rid his body of the pent-up anger and anxiety. The woman raping his piano needed to pick up her music and get the hell out of there before he told her how he really felt about her musical talent or lack thereof.
“Fine. I’ll practice it more.” She gathered up her music, slipped on her gray wool coat, and snagged her purse from the table before shoving her feet into her black leather boots and letting herself out.
Jackson clenched and released his fists several times, but the tension wouldn’t budge. The need for a physical release throbbed in his veins, the ticking of a bomb. He threw on jogging pants, a gray hoodie, and a beanie, then hit the snow-mottled sidewalks to run until his lungs burned equally from exertion and the frigid air. The past kept him warm as his memories ignited an anger like a dormant volcano destined to erupt, destroying everything in a hundred mile radius.
