6. Jackson
6
JACKSON
I stand confidently over this woman. Hearing her beg me to stop and then announce she’s about to come sets my blood on fire.
“You’re a fucking prick,” she hisses.
I can’t help myself. I grin. The challenge she presents is novel entertainment for me. I’m relishing this moment. My cock is throbbing and I’d like nothing more than to tear her clothes off and sink myself deep inside her.
I’m not sure how well received that would be, though.
With that camera wrapped around her neck, I also have a fairly good idea of who she is.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” I ask, for the sixth time.
She spits on the floor at my feet in response to my question. My answering chuckle has her screeching profanities that would make a truck driver blush.
“Have it your way,” I say.
I grab my phone from the pocket of my leather jacket, not tearing my gaze away from her. Her eyes are flashing with a combination of fear and defiance.
I tap the screen a couple times and then press the device to my ear, ignoring her horrified gaze. It rings in my ear for a few heartbeats before a male voice answers on the other end.
"Speak."
"It's Jackson. I need an ID on someone," I say, my eyes not straying from this fiery woman who's now glaring at me with piercing blue eyes.
The line goes silent for a heartbeat before he responds with a simple, "Send me what you have."
I snap a quick picture, capturing her spunk and determination in the frame. She tries to turn away, but it's too late. The camera clicks and I send the picture through.
"Hold on," the voice on the other side commands. I do just that, studying her every move as we wait. She wriggles in the chair, testing her bonds with growing desperation.
"She's familiar," the voice notes after what seems like an eternity. An unsettling chuckle reverberates in my ear. "Oh boy, Jackson...you've got yourself into a heap of trouble."
"I'm listening," I urge him to continue.
"Her name's Kelley McLander," he states flatly.
I keep my eyes trained on her. “Thanks,” I mutter, ending the call. I know that name. I know who she is.
“Kelly McLander,” I say, quietly. “The determined reporter.”
Her eyes widen, confirming she is who I accuse her of.
“However, am I going to punish you? We could get Patrick involved…”
My threat hangs in the air. A partial joke, but with undercurrents of truth. She’s afraid of me now.
“P-patrick? But this is just a…a stupid illegal racing club,” she stammers.
I throw my head back and laugh.
Just a racing club, huh?" I mutter, an icy grin taking over my normally impassive features. "You've got no idea what you've walked into."
She swallows hard, her defiance melting under the gravity of the situation. Her fingers twitch against the ropes binding her to the chair, her body stiffening. The sight amuses me, but now is not the time for amusement.
"Patrick... Patrick DeLacroix."
Now it's my turn to spit out a name that curls in the air between us like smoke from a smoldering fire. His name alone carries enough weight to pull down kings and I watch as it does its job, pulling color from her face. The blood drains from her cheeks, leaving a stark fear in those sparkling sienna eyes.
Patrick DeLacroix isn't just a man; he's a beast, and he works for me. And now with Kelley McLander—the persistent reporter—caught under his shadow, there are infinite ways this can go wrong. But, for me, there’s some delight hidden in this chaos.
"Please," she finally whispers, the word barely escaping her lips. "I didn't know..."
"Of course you didn't," I interject swiftly, my boots echoing through the room as I pace around her chair. Yet her plea doesn't move me; I was never known for my mercy. "Ignorance never exempted anyone from consequences, Miss McLander. You’ll be under my supervision from here on out.”
“What?” she screeches. “You can get fucked! You can’t keep me here.”
I chuckle again but ignore her while she continues to berate me. “While your presence is an utter inconvenience to me, I’ll not have you destroying the empire I built.”
She goes nuts, struggling against her bonds, trying desperately to free herself. “This is kidnapping,” she screams. “Let me go! Someone help!”
Her cries echo through the room, as meaningless as the sighing wind outside. I watch as she grapples with the ropes, twisting, turning, her efforts only making the knots dig deeper into her skin. Her defiance amuses me and simultaneously earns my respect.
"You have spirit, Miss McLander," I comment aloud, my tone a curious mix of admiration and annoyance. "But it's not going to help you here."
Sudden anger flares in her eyes. "You bastard!" she hisses again, her voice ragged from shouting. The words hang heavy in the air; a desperate curse from captive to captor.
Her insult draws a genuine laugh from me. My laughter fills the room; it's a dark, threatening sound that seems to bounce off the walls and back at us.
"Ah yes," I muse aloud, grinning devilishly at her. "I've been called that more times than I can count. But it won't change your situation, sweetheart."
Ignoring her furious glare, I continue speaking, my voice cold as ice. "Here's what you need to understand," I drawl, moving closer until I can see the fear dancing in her eyes.
It’s fascinating how expressive those big brown eyes are—like stormy seas trapped within an elegant cage.
"I mean it when I say you're under my supervision," I tell her softly but firmly. "Think of this as… house arrest."
She stares at me incredulously, lips parting in disbelief. She opens her mouth to protest again but I silence her with one swift move. My hand grips her throat gently - not to hurt but to intimidate, to ensure she understands the gravity of her situation. Her eyes widen in alarm, a startled gasp escaping as she looks up at me, all defiant fire now doused with a drop of fear.
"And this," I say, leaning in close and seizing her lips in a brutish kiss, "is to seal my promise."
She freezes, shocked into silence by the audacity of my move. A moment lingers between us, a precipice where dominance and submission hangs in balance.
And then she bites down. Hard.
I taste blood, metallic and thick on my tongue, and I jerk back instinctively. Her teeth have torn open my lower lip, the sharp pain a jolt to my senses. My hand releases its hold on her throat as I touch a finger to the wound critically. She watches me with wide eyes - frightened yet defiant - then turns away in disgust.
"Accept it, Miss McLander," I chuckle through the sting of her bite, the taste of blood still fresh on my tongue. "This is your reality now."
She glares at me again but there's a wild look in her eyes now, a spark that wasn't there before. This woman is not one to be tamed easily. I can see that much. And while the thought should frighten me given her profession and potential to undo everything I've worked for, it doesn’t.
Instead, it excites me.
Intrigued by the fire I see in those brown orbs, I stand up, patting my pockets to find a handkerchief. I dab at the blood on my lip, my gaze never leaving her.
A wry smile forms on her face as she holds my gaze, daring me with her defiance. The very audacity of it makes me chuckle, the sound echoing through the room.
"Your spirit is commendable," I say, folding the bloodied handkerchief and stuffing it back into my pocket. "But don't mistake my admiration for leniency."
She glares at me but remains silent, her breath catching when I slowly approach her again. This time, I merely squat down to be at eye level with her.
"Stay put and do not mess things up again," I order coolly.
The harshness of my words obviously strikes something in her, but she nods in understanding - a small victory on my part.
I stand and stride towards the door with a sense of accomplishment expanding in my chest. Upon reaching the entrance, I glance over my shoulder one last time to take in her bewildered expression.
"Don't worry," I reassure her with a grin, "we'll be moving to more spacious accommodations soon."
Her eyes widen at my words as she takes in the implications but before she can voice any objections, I shut the office door behind me.
Taking a moment to compose myself outside, I allow myself an indulgent sigh of satisfaction. There's something about this woman - something dangerous yet captivating - that draws me to her like a moth to flame.