Love So Dark: Billionaire Romance Duet

by Stasia Black

  I take a seat in the chair across the desk from him. “What’s so important that you decided to drag me here in the middle of my workday?”

  His expression was open when I’d come in the room, but it’s shut down now. He strides back around to his desk chair and sits, immediately steepling his fingers under his chin. His features have gone all flat and serious.

  Okay. What’s going on here? I sit up in my chair, suddenly on alert. I thought this was just his super unprofessional way of getting my attention, but maybe—

  “Charlie,” I sputter. “It’s Charlie okay?” I’m half out of my chair before Jackson holds up a hand.

  “Charlie’s fine.” He looks startled. “Of course nothing’s wrong with Charlie.”

  I put a hand to my chest and then glare at him. “What the fuck then? You just scared the crap out of me.”

  Jackson rubs one of his hands on his knees as if it’s sweaty. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” he confesses.

  “Just spit it out,” I say. “That usually works for me. Stop with the bullshit suspense and spill.”

  He gives a jerky nod of assent and then starts to talk. “I’ve just learned that your lawyer, your previous lawyer that is, Don Maury, was paid off by David and Regina.”

  I’m so startled by the intro of my former custody lawyer, and then my ex and his wife into the conversation that it takes me a second to process what he’s saying.

  “That’s why he didn’t defend you as well as he could have at the last hearing,” Jackson continues.

  I freeze. I can’t—what? I mean, I was disappointed when David’s attorney’s kept attacking me and we didn’t have anything to volley back with, but Don said we shouldn’t stoop to their level… that my case was strong enough without it…

  I lean back in my chair and put a hand to my head.

  “That’s not all. Not nearly the worst of it.”

  My eyes flick to Jackson’s face. Worse? There’s something worse than my own lawyer working against me?

  “The day before your hearing,” his jaw goes tense as he talks, “Don had pastries set out during your prep session, correct? Bagels and some small cakes?”

  I scrunch my brows, trying to remember. That whole period of time before the hearing is pretty much just a blur. “I don’t know. What does that have anything to do with—”

  “Think.” Jackson’s voice is hard. “Did he have, say, poppyseed bagels that he gave you? Or everything bagels that have poppy seeds mixed with the other seeds? Or poppyseed cake?”

  I close my eyes and struggle to remember. Bagels? Cake? I hadn’t been able to eat anything the day of the hearing itself, I remember that. But the day before?

  Oh my God. My eyes flash up to Jackson’s. “Yes! At the strategy session with my lawyer, the day before the hearing. He had bagels set out, but I didn’t eat those. It was the poppyseed muffins. I ate two of them, I was so stuffed when I was finished. But I was stressed out and carbs are my downfall when I’m stressed.” Then I frown, confused. “Are you saying he spiked the muffins? Like with pot or something so I’d test positive for drugs the next day? But I didn’t feel high or anything—”

  Jackson shakes his head and for a second I’m only more confused before he clarifies, “It was the poppy seeds themselves. They set off drug tests—a false positive—because they read as opioids. You know, poppy? As in, what opiates have been made from throughout history?”

  I blink several times before finding my voice. “And that can affect the outcome of a drug test?” My voice goes high-pitched in disbelief. “So let me get this straight, you’re telling me I failed because of muffins? They took away my son over a couple of fucking muffins?”

  “Calm down, Callie.”

  It’s only when he says it that I realize I totally shouted that last one and that I’m standing with my hands clenched into fists.

  I push back my chair as I start pacing his office. “You mean to tell me,” I stab the air with my forefinger, “that that fucking lawyer set me up to lose my son before I ever entered the courtroom, by fucking poisoning me? With. Fucking. Seeds. In. Some. Fucking. Muffins.”

  I throw my hands up in the air and let out an enraged growl. Then I’m nodding my head.

  “I’m gonna kill him. String him up by his balls and dangle him on the wall where his law degree used to hang. Motherfucker is gonna be so sorry he ever decided to fuck with me, I swear to fuckin’ God.”

  I’m striding back and forth furiously across Jackson’s office. I note that he’s approaching and I’m two seconds from ripping into him to when he starts nodding with me. “I completely agree. And I’m going to help you do it.”

  That brings me to a stumbling halt. “You are?”

  “Fuck yes I am.” It’s only now that I realize his face is mottled with fury. He might not be as angry as I am about all this, but he’s close. “I’ve never in all of my years and interactions with sleazy lawyers, and believe me, I’ve dealt with some really sleazy motherfuckers, come across anyone this low, this willing to shit all over his client, the law, and simple human ethics.” Jackson’s voice is passionate and I’ve never heard him use so many swear words at once.

  “Damn right,” I say. We just stand there, face-to-face. It’s a position that anyone else looking in on us would see as a standoff.

  My chest heaves. There are too many thoughts zooming through my head to focus on a single one. Jackson’s standing so close I can see the tiniest cut on the edge of his jaw from where he nicked himself shaving this morning.

  Fuck, why is that hot?

  I grab him by the tie and yank him toward me and then I kiss him. If he’s startled, he reacts quickly enough that it doesn’t show.

  I kiss him hard, but this is Jackson. Within seconds, his mouth demands control of the kiss. Which only pisses me off more.

  I flip my left foot back, lean into it for a moment and then shift my weight forward again so that I can use my momentum to push Jackson backward toward the wall. I’m not sure if the element of surprise makes him stumble or if he just allows it, because, momentum or not, there’s no way I’m moving him that far, at least while we’re on our feet. Either way, the next moment I’ve achieved my goal. His back is against the wall exactly where I wanted him. The idea that he might have just willingly submitted to me sends a gush of wetness into my panties.

  I run my hands through the back of his hair, up to where it’s slightly longer on top. Then I bring his head down to mine. I take control of the kiss, going deep. When he tries to take over and master me with his tongue, I pull back so that he’s forced to chase me. That only makes me move away again.

  He growls in frustration when I retreat for the third time. I just cluck my tongue at him and shake my head. He narrows his eyebrows at me and I laugh and swoop down again to tease open the seam of his lips with my tongue. This time he lets my tongue do the leading and only engages after I initiate each time, meeting the tip of my tongue with his in a way that shoots electric pulses straight to my clit. That’s right. Let me direct the show.

  I can’t help letting out a most unladylike moan and sagging against him. He makes my body feel liquid. And goddamn him, he was right, this does feel better since I don’t have to worry about grabbing for a knife every other second. There’s no danger here.

  I continue kissing him as I hike one of my dress-pant clad legs open around his hips. Well, he’s so much taller, it’s really his upper thigh, but all that matters is that I’m achieving some friction now. I rub my body up and against him hard once, twice. Oh God, that feels amazzzzzzzzzzing.

  Apparently Jackson feels the same way because he reaches under both my thighs and hikes me up to his waist, then carries me toward his desk.

  For a moment, everything’s perfect.

  I’m taken back in time to when he carried me exactly like this from his bathtub to his bed. Today, just like then, I revel in his strength and marvel at how easily he lifts me.

  Then, exactly like in the
movies, he shoves all the papers and a cup of pens off his desk onto the floor without any care and sets me down on the edge. He kisses me and for a moment, I’m all consumed. There’s only Jackson, his body, that scent of pine and spice and male. There’s only want and the insistent pulse between my legs. He kisses me deep and I even let him.

  Then he presses me down on the desk with his body. He’s gentle. He doesn’t slam me down. In some sane part of my mind, I realize he even cups the back of my neck and is careful to keep all of his weight on his hands so no part of him crushes me.

  But the rest of my brain goes to a very not sane place.

  It’s his tie. It flops down into my face as he lowers me. And when I look up, I don’t see Jackson. I see the fluorescent lights in the office ceiling tiles.

  I’m on the conference table again.

  A hard surface underneath me, bright blinding fluorescents overhead. Men in business suits. I’m staring at the ceiling as man after man violates me. Oh God, is it over yet? Why isn’t it over yet? How is this even happening? It shouldn’t be happening. This is an office, for God’s sake. It’s supposed to be safe here. These kinds of things happen in the dark back alleys of East San Jose, not the conference room of a well-lit fifteenth floor office building.

  Next in line, Gentry says, pointing to the box of condoms someone set out beside the coffee tray. You don’t know where that filthy cunt’s been. Better safe than sorry.

  I scream and struggle to get away, but Gentry holds my shoulders down and the other man, Carl, has a bruising grip on my hips to keep me still. The next man in line, a middle-aged Japanese investor, puts one hand on my knee and with the other, rolls on the condom.

  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I shriek at the top of my lungs. I strike out in all directions.

  “Callie!”

  Suddenly there’s nothing holding me down anymore and I scramble off the desk. I bolt toward the wall. Run! I have to run! My heart is hammering a thousand beats per minute and I look crazily back and forth for Gentry and the rest of—

  But—

  None of them are there.

  There’s just one very freaked out looking Jackson, hand to his bloody lip.

  Fuck. Me.

  I’m not in the conference room at Gentry Tech. I blink rapidly as my head jerks back and forth in disorientation. But I was just— They were just here—

  I put a shaky hand to my forehead. It felt so real.

  Goddammit. I thought I was getting better, the more time passed. This isn’t the first waking flashback I’ve had, but it’s the most intense one ever. I thought I was getting control. Getting past it. God, I’m so dumb. I want to laugh at how dumb I am but mostly I just want to cry.

  “Callie,” Jackson starts to say but I hold up a hand.

  “Don’t.”

  He opens his mouth to try again but again, I cut him off. “Just don’t.”

  I try to gather what little dignity is left to me and I leave the room. Jackson must realize what’s good for him, because he lets me.

  Five

  JACKSON

  I check my phone for the millionth time. It’s 5:05pm. Where is she?

  Sitting here in the back of my towncar waiting for her to emerge from the front entrance of CubeThink is starting to make me feel like exactly what she accused me of being—a stalker.

  Does the fact that it’s my building make it any better?

  Probably not.

  I’m just trying to find a way to approach her on neutral territory.

  After what happened this morning… I shudder and curl into myself remembering the look on her face, the absolute terror as she shoved me off and fought and shouted NO like she was a trapped animal with the butcher’s knife raised overhead.

  As if I was her rapist.

  The shaking that’s hit me on and off all day comes back and I clench my fist. And I know now for certain. Almost for certain. Did Gentry do it himself or have someone else do it? I know he’s capable of it. I know—

  My eyes clench shut along with my fists. Even the idea that someone… that someone violated Callie… Fuck I’m going to be sick again. I already lost what little bit of lunch I managed to get down earlier.

  “Sir?”

  At Sam’s voice, I look up and there she is. Beautiful as ever even with brunette hair like she’s trying to dim her shine. It doesn’t work. Not even Bryce Gentry could diminish the burning star that is Calliope Cruise for long.

  I step out and stand. Will she approach or hurry away? I give her the choice. I won’t chase her. Jesus but I’ll always give her the choice. I swear I’ll never take that away from her ever again.

  For a moment I think she will run. But then she lifts her chin, head high, and comes toward me. So brave, always so brave.

  She starts talking the second she’s within hearing distance. “Kissing you this morning was a mistake and I don’t want to talk about the other—”

  “I don’t want to talk about that either. Now get in.”

  I get in the back seat and move over, gesturing for her to join me inside.

  Another choice.

  She glares at me like I’m the most high-handed jerk she’s ever seen.

  “Please, Callie,” I entreat, voice softer. “I think you’ll find the place I want to take you very… enlightening.” I can’t help a slight smile at the last word, imagining her many possible reactions to the place I want to take her.

  “Where?” she asks reluctantly.

  I lift an eyebrow. “It’s a surprise.” Maybe I can tempt her with curiosity? Jesus but I want this for her and it’s taking everything in me not to show my hand with how bad I want it. She’s drowning, I can see it, and I want to put some solid ground underneath her feet. I need to. I need it for her. I need it for me.

  She rolls her eyes and lets out an unimpressed huff of air, glancing at the sidewalk that would take her to the nearest light rail station.

  “I promise, Callie. Come with me just this once.” I won’t beg but I do need her to hear me. “If you don’t like it, we’ll go back to the way we were.”

  This earns me another glare. “What, with you stalking me?”

  I hold up my hands. “With you never seeing my face.”

  “And the guy you have following me?”

  “We can discuss the security detail.”

  “There’s no discussion. It stops. Immediately.”

  I wish it were that simple. “I’m not comfortable leaving you unguarded while your ex has some sleazy barely licensed P.I. following you around, trying to catch you in compromising photos.”

  She leans against the car like she’s suddenly winded. She must not have known that her ex still had his PI following her.

  “I thought the lawyers got a restraining order against their PI.” She looks freaked out, really freaked out. Maybe at the thought of their PI potentially catching her at some of her less than wholesome activities. Her ex would have no compunction about using it in court, but she doesn’t have to worry.

  I get out of the car and join her where she’s leaning against the car, her breath coming in quick, panicked gasps.

  I want to reassure her but at the same time, she needs to know all of it. “They just hired a different P.I. and once or twice even used lower associates within the law firm. As soon as we slap a restraining order on whoever they hire, they’re onto someone else. Even a restraining order only restricts them to a distance of a hundred yards from you. That’s nothing for a telephoto lens.”

  She puts a hand to her stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up again.”

  “No,” I shake my head vehemently. “Callie, listen. My security guards have made sure none of them have even gotten close to you. If you enter an establishment, my guys pick them out of the crowd and they don’t follow you in. You’ve been safe.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She’s so panicked and I hate it. I nod emphatically. “I promise. No one got past my guys.”

  “Guys?” she squeaks
. “As in, plural?”

  I try to move toward her but she steps away, shaking her head. “I guess in some messed up way, I appreciate what you’ve done?” It’s clearly a question she hasn’t made up her mind about. “But no more.” She meets my gaze straight on. “I refuse to have men I don’t know following me around.” The shiver that goes through her this time is visible.

  I nod. “I completely understand.” And I do. I really do. It was insensitive of me not to consider her feelings from the beginning.

  She breathes out audibly. “So you’ll cancel the service.”

  “No.”

  She tenses and glares at me. “What?”

  “I won’t cancel the service,” I say calmly. “Earlier today I requested a change in your detail so that you’ll only have female bodyguards from now on. You can meet them and have as much contact with them as you like so you’re comfortable with the situation.”

  Her mouth gapes open and then closes. Then opens like she’s thought of something else to say but then she closes it again.

  I’ll quit while I’m ahead.

  “Excellent. Now that that’s settled to your satisfaction, shall we go?” I hold out a hand in the direction of the town car’s open door and move aside so she can step in. Please, Callie. Please.

  She huffs out a breath of frustration and her eyes dart from the door to me to the sidewalk to the door again. She’s about three seconds from telling me to fuck off, I can tell.

  But then her mouth purses and she points a finger right in my face. “Don’t think this means you’re off the hook. Stalker.”

  She squeezes past me and slides into the car.

  Yes. I breathe out and chuckle. “Anything you say. Anything you say.”

  Classical music plays quietly through the speakers as we drive. Chopin, Prelude in E Minor.

  I don’t say anything. Now that I’ve got her here, I’m content. Just having her close is enough to soothe that beast that lives inside me. Because just like everything else, her arrival in my life woke him up too.