Chapter 7
Megan
“Tell me more about your books.”
Holy fuck.This man has the bossy-alpha thing nailed.
Jameson’s tone is so irresistibly commanding, it strikes me what a bad idea it is to get hired by a boss this hot. I pick up my unfinished champagne and take another swallow, knowing I’m probably going to tell him anything he asks.
Imagine if he told you to drop your shorts.
“What would you like to know?”
“What’s your pen name?”
I sigh under my breath, feeling silly. “Jessica Rivers. Are you gonna look me up now?”
“What are your books about?”
I notice he didn’t answer my question.
“Well… They all follow the same story. So it starts in book one and continues on.”
“And what’s the story?”
I put my glass down, wondering if I can really sum it up. I’m not used to pitching the story verbally to someone. And it’s not finished yet. I don’t even know how the series ends.
In the silence, insects chirp beyond the glow of the patio lights, and I notice: no mosquitos. If this were Manitoba, we’d be eaten alive out here. The night’s so peaceful around us, and distantly, I think I hear my brother talking on the phone, the low lull of his voice.
It’s so comforting.
I could really get used to this.
Except for the intimidating man sitting across from me, regarding me in demanding silence.
Waiting.
“Well, it’s about a girl named Rowan and a guy named Wolf.” I play with my hands while I speak, a nervous tic that always shows itself when I talk about my writing. “It’s set in the future, in a postapocalyptic wasteland. Rowan’s family are aristocracy, and Wolf is one of the nomadic outsiders known to Rowan’s people as savages.”
He hasn’t told me to shut up because he’s sorry he asked yet, so I tentatively keep going.
“When the first book opens, Rowan’s parents are long dead and her oldest brothers have just returned from battle with an enemy tribe, victorious. Now it’s Rowan’s turn to do what she can to protect her family. She’s the only girl, and she’s been raised to be a Lady. Which means to be married off to the ruler of another tribe as a sort of peace bond between them.”
I bite my lip, pausing to give Jameson a moment to steer the conversation elsewhere if he’s not interested.
His eyes drift to my lip as I twist it between my teeth. “Sounds barbaric.”
I laugh a little. “That’s what Wolf says. But it’s a common custom among her people. So, as the first book gets going, Rowan is heading off on what they call her bridal march, where some of her brother’s trusted guards and hired mercenaries form a caravan and literally walk her to the foreign territory of her intended husband. Wolf and his little brother are two of those mercenaries.” I pause to take a breath and gather my thoughts. “But there are many dangers in the open wastelands, and very soon, the bridal march is attacked by roaming bandits. A battle breaks out, many men are killed, including Wolf’s little brother, and Wolf ends up fleeing into the woods with Rowan. She’s his paycheck, you see. If he can successfully deliver her to her intended husband, he gets rewarded. So, uh…” I hesitate again, fearing that he might be getting bored. “The books follow their adventure.”
Silence falls, and my mind reels as I try to make sense of what’s happening right now.
Then it hits me.
He’s listening.
Troy never listened.
As that sinks in, I want to hate my ex-boyfriend so much in this dark, violent little place in the depths of my gut. But I don’t even care enough about him anymore to hate him.
I thought I’d be spending my life with him. With a man who didn’t have the slightest interest in the things that made me happy. For years, I thought that.
Shit, was I wrong.
Thank god.
If anyone ever told me I’d be explaining my nerdy books to a super-hot billionaire who looks like he and his abs belong on a movie poster for the next comic-book action blockbuster, I’d tell them they needed to lay off the mind-altering drugs.
But here we are.
Not only is he listening, he appears to be thinking about everything I’ve said.
“How many more books are there to write?”
“Two more, I think.” I’m practically salivating. Vibrating, like a lonely puppy who’s just found a playmate. “I have the general story arc planned out.”
He waits. Like, Tell me more.
“So they’re, um, just over halfway through their journey now, and they’ve encountered all kinds of dangers along the way.” Calm down. You’re talking too fast. “Other men try to take Rowan from Wolf. Early on, he makes her ditch her fancy dress for men’s clothing so she doesn’t stand out so much. She’s been raised in a keep, very sheltered, so she’s a total fish out of water trying to survive in the wild. She’s, um, also a virgin. That’s part of the deal, that her intended husband gets her delivered to him, ah, ‘fresh,’ as they call it. Wolf knows it. And he knows how to keep them both alive. He’s skilled, he grew up in the wastelands, but it’s not easy. And along the way…” I hesitate again. “Well… there’s lots of sex.”
My face burns as Jameson stares at me.
Wow. Who knew writing explicit sex scenes was so much easier than mentioning them in passing to a ridiculously hot man?
He clears his throat, but the words still come out low and gravelly. “He fucks her?”
“Uh-huh.” Hopefully, it’s dark enough out here that he can’t tell how badly I’m blushing. He just said the word fuck to me and I’m dying.
Why did I need to bring that up?
Because it’s a major thrust of the story.
And he asked.
“But she’s supposed to stay a virgin?”
“Yup. But she gives it up to Wolf.”
I pick up my champagne and bury my face in it. At some point while I babbled, he filled it up again.
My pulse is thudding. My pussy is starting to throb just talking with my brother’s best friend about this imaginary sex that I’ve dreamed up between these fictional characters.
“And how does she feel about all this arranged-marriage stuff?”
I’m not even sure if he’s purposely steering the conversation away from sex or if he’s actually curious, but it’s an interesting question for a man to ask.
“Well, she’s scared. She feels like it’s her duty to protect her brothers. She’s not a warrior, she’s a bride. It’s her destiny. But… she falls in love with Wolf. Badly.”
He seems to consider that for a moment. “Well, that’s shitty.”
“Is it?”
He sips his champagne. He’s barely drunk a single glass.
I’m on at least my third.
“Does he love her back?”
“Yes. He falls in love with her, too. He knows when he takes her virginity that he’s basically signed his own death warrant. Even if he delivers her, if her new husband finds out…” I shrug. “But he takes the risk for her.”
“How does it happen?”
Oh, sweet Jesus.
I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to look away from Jameson’s suddenly half-lidded eyes if my brother walks right into the middle of this. Or live monkeys fall from the sky.
The words spill right out of my mouth.
“On a cold night, in a cave by a fire, wrapped in animal fur. She’s very curious. Like I said, she was sheltered. And Wolf opens up the world for her without meaning to. He’s her guide on this dangerous journey, and she grows to trust him. And she drills him with questions about sex. He tries to resist her, but it’s sort of futile. She’s pretty charming.”
Jameson doesn’t even blink as he drinks that in. “So, it’s a romance?”
I shrug uneasily.
“It’s part fantasy and part steampunk and part epic journey of survival. It’s a mash-up of genres, which I find really fun to write. Romance, though…” I stare at my champagne, avoiding those light-blue eyes. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet if it has a happy ending.”
* * *
“I’ll walk you inside.”
It’s getting late, and as we head into the house, Jameson unnecessarily moves a chair out of my way.
I’m warm from all the liquor and good food, and his attention. He falls into step behind me, and I’m hyperaware of his presence, even though I can’t see him.
Why do I feel, again, like I’m on some bizarre first date?
He’s so quiet as we walk across the living room. I can’t hear my brother. The house is silent.
“Well, thank you for everything.” I don’t know what else to say. I need sleep. I’ll be thinking more clearly in the morning.
Maybe he isn’t even that hot.
I glance at him.
Fuck. He’s beautiful.
Does he routinely go shirtless in his house?
Am I gonna get fired for licking him without meaning to?
“Last chance, okay? If you’re uncomfortable with me taking the gardening job, or regretting the offer?—”
“The job is yours.” His firm tone tells me there’ll be no swaying that decision.
“Okay. I can’t really tell you how much it means to me. It’s been a long day. Maybe I’ll find the words tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to say anything. It’s for Cole. He asked, I’m happy to say yes.”
He doesn’t seem happy, though.
Whatever wisp of rapport I’d sensed while we talked about my books has been replaced by the same cool formality as before. But at least he’s admitted what I guessed: the job was Cole’s idea. And now that he knows why I’m broke, he probably pities me.
We’ve wandered all the way to the grand entrance of the living room, where the two halls spread out in either direction. I have no idea where he sleeps, but obviously, not in the guest wing.
I pause, and so does he, his hands jammed in his pants pockets.
“I guess this is where I leave you.” I fill the silence, feeling awkward when he says nothing. It makes me squirm.
No. It makes me hot. Like everything else he does.
Yeah, there’s no way he’ll be less hot in the morning.
Just a few hours ago, he was the billionaire in the luxury SUV and fine suit, and I was the train wreck in the street, blocking traffic with my cheap, broken suitcase. My broken life.
It’s inconceivable that we’re standing here together right now.
And yet we are.
The odd moment stretches out, like we’re now at the end of the bizarre first date. And we’re both contemplating whether or not we’re going to kiss.
But that’s ridiculous. He isn’t thinking about kissing me.
“Have a good sleep, Megan.” His voice is low and brushes across my senses like velvet. It makes me want to pet him.
“Good night, Jameson.” I almost thank him again, but that’s just getting sad.
For all I know, he’s been judging me and my life choices—harshly—this entire time. When it comes to his private thoughts, the man is giving nothing away.
I turn and head toward the guest wing. All the way up the hall, I feel the lingering warmth of his attention, like he’s watching me. But when I reach the end of the hall and glance back, Jameson is gone.
It strikes me that he’d make one hell of a character in a book.
I just have no idea yet if he’d be the hero or the villain.