His Passion (By His Command #4)

by Ana W. Fawkes

  “Ah, here she is. Isabella Grace. Come. Sit.”

  I hated the idea of sitting in the same room as John Black but I didn’t want to be alone.

  I took a seat on the couch and felt uneasy with John looking at me the way he did. I could only imagine the thoughts running through his mind. The last thing I wanted to become was a pawn between father and son. Nobody could touch me like Jonathan Black could. Nobody could pleasure me like him either.

  Nobody.

  “You miss him, don’t you?”

  I swallowed, ignoring the question.

  “I find it funny how things work, don’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice quiet.

  “The temp worker ends up as a temp,” John said. He chuckled and sipped his drink. He looked at me and his eyes went wide. “You understand that, right?”

  Again, I stayed silent on the question.

  “Nothing for him is ever real. Ever lasts. Why do you think he jumps from company to company, investment to investment. I don’t think he’s ever stopped long enough to take a breath.”

  I smiled. My mind thought about Jonathan’s body against mine, his deep thrusts, so calm, so effective, orgasmic. The way we looked at each other.

  “He has it all but it’s not enough, ever.”

  “And yourself?”

  “I’m happy,” John said. “Mostly. That is, until I look at you.”

  “Me?”

  “Sure. Here I am, spending time in the mountains, taking in the weather and snow. And then here comes Isabella Grace, a woman with enough beauty to turn it all upside down.” John put his glass down and slid to the edge of his chair. His hands were tight on the arms of the chair and he leaned forward. He was intense looking, licking his lips. “My heart longs for you, Isabella Grace. From the moment I heard of you, it’s begun.”

  I sat back on the couch. I couldn’t take my eyes off John.

  “You don’t deserve what you think you enjoy,” he said. “A woman like you… should be cared for, properly. Not brought into murder.”

  John said the word murder with a frightful growl and stare.

  “How did you know?” I asked. “About everything?”

  “I always know,” John said. He retreated comfortably back into his chair. “Why do you think we’re here? I knew what was happening with my son and Oliver Rush. Oliver Rush confided in me, the stupid man he was. The second I heard of the three billion, I knew Jonathan would do something wild. Then I found out about you…” – John pointed a wobbly finger at me – “… and I just knew he would… kill him.”

  “You didn’t stop it?” I cried out.

  “How? How do you stop him? Can you?”

  I shut up. I had nothing to offer.

  “I did what I could,” John said. “I intercepted the money. Oliver Rush didn’t know and that’s where Jonathan is right now. Getting the money back.”

  “You took it?”

  “I intercepted it. As it came across the wire, I changed some data at the last second. It was then filtered through several bank accounts across the world. Different companies – some real, some fake – until it finally ended up in large chunks I could manage. If someone dared to track the money, they’ll spend their entire lives hitting dead end after dead end.”

  John reached for his glass and finished his drink. He pointed the empty glass at me and sighed.

  “And that, Isabella Grace, is what I do.”

  “Criminal work?” I asked.

  “Much less than murder, don’t you think?”

  I frowned.

  Jonathan was a murderer and his father stole money.

  What had I gotten into here?

  These were the moments I needed Jonathan. I needed him next to me, to take over the conversation and protect me.

  “But while he’s out, I’m here,” John said. “Because I have something for you.”

  John reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper. He unfolded it and placed it on the table.

  “Take it,” he said.

  I stared at a set of numbers that made no sense to me.

  “You need to leave,” John said. His voice sounded serious. “Your beauty will kill my son. As much as he can control you, he can’t control himself. He never has and never will. I’d blame him, or maybe myself, but seeing you, Isabella Grace, I can understand why. Any man would kill for you. I know I would.”

  John paused, leaving his words lingering. I refused to believe he was putting me into the same kind of proposition that got Oliver Rush killed. Then it occurred to me… would Jonathan Black kill his own father?

  The thought made me look away from John.

  “You’re thinking it,” John said. “I don’t blame you. I’d run. Like I told you on the phone.”

  I was thinking about running. Away from John to find Jonathan. My heart belonged to him, my body to his command, and nothing would change that.

  “That paper is your way out,” John said. “Those are tracking numbers, routing numbers, and my phone number.”

  I looked down at the paper again. I opened my mouth but John answered the question.

  “Isabella Grace, that’s for the three billion dollars. It’s yours. To keep. I’ll help you get it settled and squared. Nobody will ever know a thing. You’ll be safe and set for your life. I can also promise Jonathan will never find you. And as for me…”

  John stood from his chair. He stepped towards me, leaning down to drop his glass to the table. It hit with a clunk and tipped over, the semi-melted ice spilling its water on the table. His eyes were lusty and his breathing increasing. He reached for my hand and I let him take it. I wanted no trouble between father and son but I wished at that moment Jonathan would come through the door and end this.

  Even if it meant killing his father.

  “… my heart will beat for you, and I will wait. If you choose to love, if you choose to need, I’ll wait. But I won’t force myself and I won’t command. It’s about heart, Isabella Grace, and I believe you know that.”

  He stopped talking and my eyes switched between John and the piece of paper in my hand. The piece of paper was worth three billion dollars. The money Jonathan was supposed to be tracking down even though I assumed it was a ploy from his father to get him away from me long enough to do this. To corner me. To try to pay me off. Send me on my way.

  “And plus, do you believe he won’t be caught for his actions? Oliver Rush was a billionaire in his own right. He had his own life, a large life. I’m sure by now people are swarming, trying to figure out what happened to him. It’s only a matter of time…”

  I nodded and folded the paper in my hand. I slipped it into my pocket and patted my pants.

  John took that as a silent signal that I had accepted the pay off.

  Good for him, that’s what I wanted.

  He let my hand go and stepped back.

  “Now, for the real business at hand,” he said. His words were slurring now and his head looked like it was going to roll off his shoulders. “He was so stupid doing it like that. So so stupid, Isabella Grace.”

  “Do you know something?” I asked. “Besides Oliver Rush calling you?”

  John fell into his chair and grumbled to himself for a second. Then his eyes popped open and he looked at me with the eyes of an unstable man. He whispered, just once, “It wasn’t the only phone call I got…”

  His head fell back and he let out a long sigh.

  “Where’s Jonathan?” I asked. “Tell me. Right now.”

  “Around front. The cottage through the front door looks like a cottage. This part is secret. A safe haven. But I don’t feel safe… do you, Isabella Grace?”

  No, I didn’t feel safe, but I didn’t acknowledge John. I’d had enough of him. Plus, he just confessed that Jonathan was still here. Right here. Upstairs. Or around the house. Whatever.

  I moved from the chair and left the room, going into the garage. I found the button I assumed to open the garage and press
ed it. The room made sound as the ground rumbled and opened.

  My heart went crazy.

  There was too much to think about, to care about.

  John had confessed a need for me. John had given me the way to get Jonathan’s three billion dollars. And he said someone else called him about the murder? Did that mean Oliver Rush knew… and brought someone…?

  But why was Oliver Rush dead then?

  Did someone…

  The door opened and I was gone. I bent over to get out before it could open all the way. I didn’t care how to close it either, I needed to get to Jonathan. We needed to talk, to plan. I couldn’t be this far from him.

  The outside was terribly cold and nightmarishly dark. There wasn’t a thing to see once I got off the ramp that would become the ground when the garage door shut. I turned to my right and started to move. I made out the dark silhouette of the cottage and made my way towards it. I wanted to touch the cottage to guide my way to the front of the house. It made sense and it had to work.

  All I could think about was Jonathan.

  Tracking down money that wasn’t there.

  Being sidelined by his own father.

  I started to appreciate the hate for John Black.

  When my fingers touched the cottage, I whispered, “Yes…” feeling relief.

  A light came on. I looked up and saw a flood light in the corner of the roof shining down on me. The light wasn’t that bright but in the pitch black dark it spread out enough to allow me to see towards the front of the house.

  I looked down and let out a gasp.

  My feet were in the snow. But there were other footprints.

  Two sets.

  Both fresh.

  One set going towards the front of the house. The rounded tip told me they were Jonathan’s shoes.

  The other set, however, were pointed towards me. They had ridges in them, mountain like shoes. Walking shoes.

  Tracking shoes.

  I looked up and that overwhelming sense of being followed came over me again.

  I tried to look over my shoulder when a hand came to my mouth.

  I cried out but the sound didn’t have a chance to carry far.

  The flood light turned off.

  My eyes couldn’t adjust.

  I thought about the paper in my pocket. Three billion dollars.

  I thought about Oliver Rush. Dead… me part of the murder.

  I thought about John Black.

  I thought about Jonathan Black… I reached my hands out and tried to step forward.

  It was no use.

  Before I could make another move, a hand sudden appeared against my mouth. Tight. Very tight. Almost blocking my nose, stopping me from breathing.

  When I felt a warm breath touch my ear, I tried to scream again. This one was louder but not loud enough.

  A voice spoke, a voice that neither Jonathan or his father. And the voice confirmed what a drunk John Black had suggested…

  “Isabella Grace… I saw everything. Everything.”

  Don’t miss what happens next in BY HIS COMMAND #5: His Urge

  With Jonathan Black missing, his father drunk, and the sense of being watched too overbearing for Isabella Grace, things take a turn from lonely and strange to something much worse. In fact, it is like a nightmare coming to life before her eyes. One that puts billionaire Jonathan Black up against something he never thought possible.

  This is where sides will be chosen, once and for all. Where command and control mix with emotions so raw, Isabella Grace teeters on regretting every decision she ever made with Jonathan Black because the thought of losing him hurts worse than the thought of never having been under his dominant command.

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  Email Ana at AnaFawkes@gmail.com

  Table of Contents

  His Passion (By His Command #4)

  Midpoint