Chapter 11
ELEVEN
ACE
I knew tonight was going to be difficult, but I didn’t think it would turn into DEFCON 1. She was so pissed at me, and I don’t blame her. Whether she's acting like it or not, I shouldn’t have called her out for her bitchy attitude. She’s the one who said what happened between us was a mistake. How was I supposed to know she would get angry if I said it, too?
It just got worse from there. Her saying she's never thought of me in that way pissed me off. Here I am telling her it won't happen again, then at the same time getting angry she doesn’t have feelings for me. That would confuse anyone.
I run both hands through my hair to the back of my head in frustration. Leaning over to my nightstand, I grab my phone and text her, deciding to be the bigger person. I seem to be the only one wanting to fix this with us, so I doubt she'll be texting me any time soon. I pause after I get our text thread up. I have no clue what the hell I'm going to say to her. Choosing to keep it simple, I start typing.
She has to respond, I'm apologizing. It’s a dick move if she doesn’t reply. Ten minutes later, and she still hasn't texted back. Doesn’t take much to fire me up when it comes to her, because I'm pissed all over again. Fuck! I try to take a few calming breaths, to not explode on her all over again.
I keep this text simple, and inform her we're required to attend the gala this weekend in our parents’ absence. I know she won’t want to go. Not only are these events boring, but she won’t want to go because of me. I end the text calling her princess to piss her off more. I can’t help it; she's so fucking infuriating.
I know I won’t be sleeping tonight; the image of her standing in my bedroom wearing my t-shirt and nothing else is haunting me into insomnia. The way it hung mid-thigh with her toned, tanned legs on full display, while her dark hair flowed down her back in loose curls smelling of vanilla, has me in a chokehold. She must have washed her face when she got to my room; it was clean from the makeup she had on the night before, showing off her natural beauty. Don’t get me wrong, she looked so fucking hot that night—the edgy rock goddess of my dreams. And while that's hot as fuck, Ainsley is her most gorgeous self the way she was that morning.
Attention and popularity never interested her. She never hung all over me like the other girls in school did. I liked that, but at the same time, I wish she showed me she was feeling even a little of what I felt for her then.
She said it herself... She has never felt that way toward me.
It's for the best. No way in a million years would Morgan let Ainsley and I be together. He has never once said his sister is off-limits, but I have never given him a reason to. There have been little comments here and there, like when Cassie joked about walking in on us in their dorm room indecently. Morgan made it clear we are like brother and sister, and that would be gross. Fuck, if he ever found out she’s anything but a sister to me, he’d kill me.
Before this weekend, I've never acted on my feelings for her. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my best friend. Not best friend—we're more like brothers. The trust we have in our friendship is rock solid, and I would never do anything to betray that trust.
Well, except for having secret feelings for his little sister, asshole.
Coming to the conclusion I definitely won’t get sleep tonight, I walk to my desk to continue working on project House Call. Now that we have individual files on each party, the next task is financials. I start with the ringleader of the pack, the man himself, Senator Jensen Samuels.
So far, I’m not finding anything suspicious, but I assumed that might be the case. He has hinted at running for the next presidential election, and you sure as hell better have all your ducks in a row before running for that office. He also has this Goody Two-Shoes reputation, and his records are as clean as a choir boy. But all it takes is one loose thread to uncover something they didn’t think to hide, or at least hide well enough.
I'm not sure I will find anything before Denny approves this list of men. It's not uncommon for him to approve memberships after initial background checks are clear. If we find more as we go, that just works more in his favor.
Denny is a genius for opening this part of the club. To the public it’s a myth, an urban legend, if you will. People come to Denny to partake in their every fantasy, but on the down low. They can’t risk being publicly shamed for what they choose to do behind closed doors. We've come a long way in society, but for people of this stature, there will always be criticism. The exclusivity of Sanctuary Upstairs gives them a way to let loose in a safe setting, and gives Denny the ammo he needs for possible favors in the future. If they refuse, I'm sure he could destroy them—personally and professionally.
* * *
I wake to bright sunlight shining in my eyes. My blackout curtains are wide open, so it’s bright as fuck in my room. Wiping the drool away, I swallow a huge gulp of water to try and rinse the mucky taste out of my mouth. I grab my phone to check the time, realizing my alarm didn’t go off.
“Fuck!” I yell to no one but myself. Class is in thirty minutes, and I need to shower. Quickly jumping out of bed, I strip down to nothing, running for the shower. I hate being late, so this has to be fast.
Leaning into the hot water, I rub body wash all over and rinse off. I don’t wash my hair every day unless I have a grueling workout—second-day hair is easier to style. I learned that from the salon I get my hair cut at. Yes, salon. I tried the whole barbershop thing, and it’s cool for guy time, but nothing compares to a hot chick washing your hair and rubbing your scalp with her long nails. I get treated like a king, and who wouldn’t want that?
I’m only ten minutes late to class. Lucky for me, I’m not the only one tardy on the first day. My eyes scan the class, and I see Denny’s nephew Scott in the back corner. He signals me to one of the two open spots next to him.
“Hey, dude. Where's Morgan?” I look around for my best friend, but there's no sign of him.
“What’s up, man? I haven’t seen him,” he says as he takes his laptop and books out to prepare for class.
Come to think of it, Morgan wasn’t home this morning, and I didn’t hear him come in last night. He said he was going to the club, but damn, he usually doesn't do all-nighters when we have class the next day. I’ll have to take notes for him if he doesn't show up.
Twenty minutes go by when a door opens loudly. The attention of the entire class turns to the back of the room. It’s Morgan.
"Fuck, he looks like shit," Scott says.
“Ah, Mr. Copeland, starting the semester off with a bang. Have a seat.” Our teacher for this class is harmless, so Morgan just smiles and nods, taking a seat next to me.
“Dude, did you crash at the club? You look like hell,” I whisper, making sure he is the only one to hear me.
“Ha, yeah. The club…all night.” He looks exhausted. His hair is a mess, and he's wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday.
That’s odd, he's wearing khaki shorts and a black v-neck t-shirt with black slip-on Vans. Definitely not club attire. If he stayed at the club, his walk of shame would look more like a sloppy James Bond. I'd never say that to him; his ego doesn’t need to inflate from the Bond comparison.
“You didn’t miss much. He's going over the syllabus and his expectations of us this semester.” I pass him the extra copies I grabbed, thinking he wouldn't show up for class. He nods at me appreciatively.
There's something he's hiding, but I won’t pry. How can I?
Classes go by quickly, and it helps that this is our short day. With all three of us in the same program, we're in the same classes with the exception of our elective. Morgan and Scott chose Beginner Art 101, and I chose Music Appreciation. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, so my love of music made that decision easy.
We’re outside in the quad when Morgan suggests we grab something to eat. He rode his bike to school, so we all get in my Bronco and drive to the burger place down the street. I'm starving since I didn’t have a chance to eat breakfast. The only thing in my stomach is a protein bar and three bottles of water.
We head inside the restaurant and look for a booth. I know I should avoid talking to Morgan about Ainsley, but I need to say something. We haven’t had a conversation about the party last Friday; he doesn't even know Ainsley met Jackson. He's just as protective of her as I am, and I'll need backup putting that friendship to a stop.
“Dude, you need to check your sister. She's acting ridiculous.” Not the best choice of words.
“What do you mean? What’s going on?” I can see the surprise flicker across his face.
“Did you not see the looks she was getting from all of the guys at the party? On top of that, she's encouraging it. It needs to stop.” I can feel the anger heat up my face—there goes the idea of nonchalance.
“I get it Ace, but again, she isn’t a baby anymore.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. I’m sure he’s getting tired of me snapping at him about his sister. “Why haven’t you chimed in yet? Maybe coming from you will be better.” The confusion on his face is evident. Back when we were all in high school together, I wouldn’t have hesitated to talk to her. He must not have noticed the wall she put between us.
“She won’t talk to me, bro. I don’t know what I did to piss her off, but she's barely given me the time of day since she's been back. I think the big brother shit needs to come from you, her big brother.” Here I go lying again, but it’s not a total lie. She isn’t giving me the time of day now. He nods his agreement.
I hear a faint giggle from a few tables ahead of us. I would know that laugh anywhere. It’s her, the girl hell-bent on ignoring my presence. I try to see her, but a tall frame is blocking her from my view.
A fucking guy. What the fuck?
Morgan notices me glaring, and looks over to where I am staring daggers in the direction of the dickhead’s back. He looks lost until realization dawns on him.
“Is that Ains?” All I can do is nod slowly. I refuse to take my eyes off of the table she's sitting at with a man we may or may not know. As I’m staring, the fuckwad turns his head to the side, and I see his profile.
“Yeah, it is, and she's with—” I growl out, but he cuts me off.
“Jackson Davis.” I don’t miss the snarl in his voice.
Jackson likes to play it off to everyone, especially the girls at school, that he's this sensitive wet dream of a dude, but he isn’t. I've heard the disrespectful way he talks about his hookups to teammates at parties. Anything from how good or bad they were in bed to the shape and color of their pussy. He really should take up acting, for the amount of bullshit he spews. Morgan gets up first, and I follow close behind him.
“Hey sis, why aren’t you in class?” he asks, only making eye contact with her. She shudders under his gaze.
“I—um—well…Jackson texted me, asking if I wanted to hang. We were both hungry, and he said this place has the best burgers in town. I got out of my last class at two today, and Cass had plans with that coffee guy,” she explains nervously to her brother.
Jackson looks up at us with that stupid cocky grin on his face. Arrogant son of a bitch. I see Morgan tense when Cassie gets brought up, but he shakes it off and quickly shifts back into brother mode.
“Dude, you never told me how funny and smart your sister is. Where have you been hiding her?” Jackson butts in. This cheesy motherfucker knows what he's doing. He purposefully chose to compliment everything but her appearance to show her he's really into what’s on the inside. I know his fucking game, and Morgan is on to him, too. He's goading us, and dangling her in front of me.
“I didn’t tell you, because we aren’t friends. Why would I talk up my sister to someone like you?” Morgan is going to flip his shit in a minute, I see it coming. A decent friend would stop this from escalating, but fuck that. I’m just as pissed as—if not more than—he is. We can’t stand Jackson. He’s too full of himself, and treats the girls of this school like they are a dime a dozen. I may fuck random women at the club, but those women know what they are getting. Jackson talks girls up, pretending to listen to what they have to say, giving them false hope of something more than a one-time fuck. It’s all bullshit. He hooks up, ghosts them, then talks about how good or bad it was to all of his friends. He's the worst kind of douchebag, and he seems to be laying it on pretty thick if he has Ainsley fooled.
I walk around Morgan where he stands over Ainsley. She's been looking at Jackson, silently mouthing apologies on behalf of us. Her face finally turns to me, reciprocating my glare. What started out as nerves when Morgan approached their table, quickly turns to rage. What comes out of her mouth shouldn’t surprise me, but I’m still taken aback.
“I don’t know what you plan to say, but save it. I am eighteen years old and not a child. I understand this behavior from Morgan, but you are not my brother.” Obviously I’m not her brother—that would have made the other morning disgusting.
I'm full-on fucking raging inside at this point. I refuse for her to entertain a possible friendship with Jackson. Grabbing her arm, I yank her out of the booth. Morgan looks surprised, but he doesn't say anything. Understandable—not even five minutes ago I was telling him to handle his sister, and now I'm jumping in.
“I need to talk to you, now.” My voice is a low growl that makes her shiver.
“Maddox! What the fuck?” Jackson tries to stand up, but Morgan puts his hand on his shoulder, pressing him back down in the booth.
I have no doubt that Jackson could handle himself in a fight with one of us, but with Morgan standing above him, he has the upper hand.
“Dammit Ace, you fucking caveman!” she yells at me in the middle of the restaurant, and now everyone is watching the scene we're causing. I drag her out, passing the booth where we left Scott.
“Ace, you good man?” The concern on his face is evident. He's new to our small group, so his shock is understandable.
“Fine.” I mutter, pulling Ainsley to follow me outside. Morgan stays inside to handle Jackson, which is for the best. He doesn't need to hear the words I have for his sister.
We walk to my car—I'm thankfuI I parked in the back of the lot. “What the fuck do you think you are doing? I told you to stay away from him. Do you not fucking listen? He's a bad guy. He uses girls to sleep with them, then bails. Do you know what his nickname around school is? Number One and Done.” I’m hoping telling her all of this will convince her to stay away from him.
“That doesn’t matter, Ace. I’m not going to judge someone based on rumors and your opinion. He likes me. Why can’t I hang out with someone who wants to spend time with me?” She is out of her mind.
“He gets the benefit of the doubt? You're done with me, someone you've known half your life, over something you refuse to talk about. But you’re okay hanging out with a total stranger, ignoring all the red flags. What the hell, Ains?” I’m trying my hardest to get through to her, but it’s falling on deaf ears.
“You've probably fucked just as many women as he has, if not more. What makes you any different? You are such a hypocrite.” After throwing her arms around in frustration, she places them on her hips.
A year ago, she would have listened to me—she probably wouldn’t have gone out with him in the first place. Ainsley used to care about my opinion. Now she acts like I’m a waste of space. It's exhausting trying to figure out what was our downfall. I soften my voice, because yelling at her has gotten me nowhere.
“Listen Ains, stay the fuck away from Jackson or—” She cuts me off, lowering her eyebrows in challenge.
“Or what?” Her voice is low and thunderous. When I hesitate to answer, she rolls her eyes.
Oh, princess, you have no idea who you are messing with.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” I crack my neck and move in close, pressing her back against my car.
“I will turn that pretty little ass of yours pink with my hand. Do it again; roll your eyes. I dare you.” My hand holds her chin up to look at me as she shifts uncomfortably, attempting to look away.
“You’ll wh-what?” Finally, the Ice Princess thaws a bit.
I shouldn’t be talking to her like this, but I’m on the warpath for her to pull her head out of her ass. I’m irritated at how na?ve she is. Maybe if she wasn’t so angry with me, she wouldn’t be so hell-bent on going against everything I say.
“You heard me,” I say low and slow to make my point. I'm not taking it back.
She's frozen in place as my hand travels from her chin to her hip. Our eye contact is heavy, I don’t think we're even blinking. She's beautiful in every way, but even more so when she's startled with nerves. Her breaths are rapid and fast, causing her chest to rise and fall against my abdomen. Her bra is thin—I can feel her nipples pressing through her shirt. All I can think about is sucking each one into my mouth, nibbling them with my teeth. She may hate me, but this verbal sparring is turning her on. I’m sure her mind is screaming at her to pull away, but her body wants me closer. Fuck me.
She may not want to admit it to herself, but she wants me. At least, her body does.
My gaze breaks away from her as I hear footsteps approaching. I release her with a quickness and take three large steps back, when Morgan and Scott walk up. Morgan doesn’t look any less pissed, but softens his voice as he speaks to her.
“Ainsley, get in the car. I let Jacky Boy know we're taking you home. Date’s over.” There's no give in his words, no matter how soft his tone is with her.
Accepting defeat, she huffs out a breath of irritation and jumps in the backseat. I'm about to get in the driver seat when Morgan stops me.
“You were right. I thought I could listen to my mom and give her room to meet new people, but she obviously has horrible taste. We need to make sure she stays away from him. Perfect timing for babysitting duty, with this job we're on.” The laugh that escapes him is not one of amusement. It’s sarcasm. Scott cuts in.
“Hey, if my uncle has you on a big job, I can help,” he says.
Scott has offered his tech services to his uncle before, but Denny sought us out for a reason. He doesn’t want his nephew anywhere near his business dealings. I’m not even sure Scott is aware of Sanctuary Upstairs. He's never brought it up, and neither have we.
“All good dude, we have the job with your uncle handled, but we could use your help keeping an eye on Ainsley.” Morgan’s eyes are pleading with Scott to say yes.
“Man, I don't want to be your sister’s babysitter. I just watched how she reacted to you guys interfering. Personally, I would like to keep my balls and self-esteem intact.” Scott matches us in size, but has more of a nerdy look to him. His outfits consist of polos with Chinos, and he wears big black square-framed glasses. He looks genuinely scared at the thought of Ainsley attacking him for watching over her.
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I don’t want her anywhere near that dipshit. Please, man?” Morgan has his hand on Scott’s shoulder in a half-bro hug.
“Okay fine, but you seriously owe me. I may need therapy once she notices I’m watching her and decides to go ape-shit on my ass. That office bill is yours.” He lets out a small laugh as the three of us get in the car.
I look in my rearview mirror at Ainsley as she furiously texts on her phone. I’m sure she’s giving Cassie the tea on what went down just now. She doesn’t look up at me, and we all ride in uncomfortable silence back to campus. So far, this year is a fucking shitstorm, and I’m not sure it’s getting better any time soon.