Chapter 9
JACK
“How was your evening?” I ask her politely as I unlock her door.
I hope she’s spent her hours away from me considering my offer, because I've spent the duration of my night imagining this stubborn little temptress swelling with my child. I may not know this woman; I’m certainly not in love with her, and yet the idea of owning her body brings me an unexpected satisfaction.
“Terrific,” she bites back sarcastically as she steps past me onto the landing, still wearing that dress I fucked her in last night.
“Shall we head to the dining room for breakfast?” I suggest.
“I want to go home,” she tells me, looking sleep-deprived and short-tempered.
“I assumed you’d want to say goodbye to your friends. I’ll have a driver take us there now.” I smile at her, knowing that this isn’t going to be easy for her.
“Goodbye? I’m not abandoning them for your wicked little game, Jack. I told you, they need me.”
“Then why don’t you give them what they really need? Take me up on my offer.” I take her hands in mine and hate the desperate plea that comes out in my tone. I’ve never felt such a deep gutted desperation the way I am over this, and it’s starting to make me question my sanity.
“I told you I'd think about it, but if I do stay here, you can’t treat me this way. Boarded-up windows, locked doors? If I were to carry your child, there would have to be a degree of trust between us. I may be a thief, with little options, but I’m not an animal.
” Reaching behind her neck, she unclasps the necklace she tried to steal from me and places it back in my hand.
“Look me in the eye and tell me you weren’t thinking about running from me last night?
” I stare at her, and when she refuses to look back, I clench the delicate necklace in my hand.
“Trust is earned, Gracie. Last night, you broke into my home and tried to steal something from me that doesn’t just hold monetary value, but sentiment. ”
“Sentiment?” She huffs a laugh. “It’s a fairy story from hundreds of years ago; one that probably isn’t even true.”
“Don’t talk about shit you know nothing about,” I warn her, feeling that frustration rear inside me again.
“Jack, it's a fucking necklace; you didn’t even know it was there, you admitted that yourself last night. You know, as well as I do, that—”
“My father gave it to my mother,” I blurt out. “He never gave her much. He sure as hell didn’t give her his respect, but he did give her this.” I hold my fist up in front of her. “So don’t tell me it holds no sentiment. To a woman who loved a man she could never have, it meant everything.”
Gracie looks stunned, then pitiful by what I just shared, and I wish that I’d kept my damn mouth shut.
“I’m sorry.” She sounds genuinely apologetic.
“Regardless of your decision on my offer, you still owe me the duration of your parole,” I remind her. “I’m assuming you’d like some of your own belongings for your stay here?” I step past her and start making my way towards the staircase.
“This is me.” She looks out the car window awkwardly when my driver pulls up outside the crumbling, abandoned building she’s directed him to.
“This is where you live?” I check; the place doesn’t look fit for rats, let alone people.
“We don’t all have mansions. You're free to wait in the car. In fact, I’d prefer it if you did.” She goes to grab the door handle, but I reach across her body and slam my hand over hers.
“I’m coming with you. I’m interested in meeting these girls, and I’m sure they have questions for me.” My face is so close to hers that it makes me want to kiss her again.
“Okay.” She turns her head so our lips are almost touching.
“But I’ll warn you, they won’t be friendly.
” She smiles before opening the door and stepping out onto the cobbled street.
It appears that the whole street has been abandoned; there is no sign of any neighbours, no cars parked outside the terraced houses, most windows are boarded up, and half the roofs are caved in.
Gracie takes a deep breath as she steps up to the front door, then knocks four times and pauses before she repeats.
“Why do I feel as though I’m about to enter the Lost Boys’ treehouse?
” I smile at the fact that she’s still wearing that elegant gown she crashed my party in; her hair is ruffled and unruly from where I fucked her.
“Trust me, the Lost Boys have nothing on us,” she promises, as the sound of multiple locks opening comes from the other side of the door.
I’m instantly knocked from the spell this girl has me under when a fierce-looking redhead swings open the door.
“You son of bitch.” She launches at me, gripping the lapels of my jacket firmly in her fists. Then, just as she pulls back her head like she’s about to head butt me, Gracie wraps her up in a bear hug and drags her back.
“That's not going to help, Selena,” she tells her calmly, while the girl wriggles to get free.
“It will sure as hell make me feel better. Where the fuck do you get off kidnapping innocent girls?” She spits at my Berluti shoe, and after watching the phlegm slide off the leather, I raise my eyes back up to her.
“I think innocent is the wrong turn of phrase. Am I mistaken in thinking that you were all part of a plot to steal from me last night?” I remind her.
“Like you would have missed some measly necklace.” The girl stops fighting to get free, and Gracie must decide she’s stable because she releases her.
“You're worth over eighteen billion dollars, and that's not including whatever your father probably has stowed away in offshore accounts.” She keeps her fierce eyes locked on mine.
“I see you have been doing your research; even if it is inaccurate… It’s much closer to twenty-five billion.” I shrug cockily, causing the girl to glance across to Gracie and snarl.
“Yep, he’s like that.” Gracie sighs. “Come on, we should get inside.” The way she looks so cautiously up and down her street has me suspicious. She’s giving off the vibe that she doesn’t feel safe here, and yet this is supposed to be a sanctuary for the women she protects.
“You want us to invite this psychopath into our home?” Selena looks as shocked as she is horrified.
“Mr. Ravenshaw has made me an offer which we all need to discuss," Gracie tells her, stepping between us and through the front door.
“Gracie, I don’t think—”
“We make our decisions together; this one will be no different,” she interrupts me sternly. “I can wholeheartedly promise that we will have their full discretion. Everything we stand for is built on loyalty and trust.”
I nod my head, unable to believe how easily it’s becoming to trust the word of a thief.
“I guess you'd better come in.” The redhead moves aside, still eyeballing me fiercely as I step past her and into their home.
I can’t make out what the girls are saying; the door is shut, and their whispered tones are all talking over the top of each other.
I stare up the staircase at the wallpaper peeling off the walls and all the damp patches.
Surely these living conditions aren’t safe?
Suddenly, the door bursts open and a pretty, petite brunette dashes out of the room, crying her heart out.
She’s followed by Gracie, who stands in front of me with a solemn look on her face.
“You have a deal.” She spits on the palm of her hand and holds it out to me, and while I ignore the urge to lift her off her feet, spin her around, and kiss her, I attempt to gain some trust and do things her way. Spitting on my own hand, I grab hold of hers and firmly shake it.
“You won’t regret this,” I assure her, surprised at the huge sense of relief I feel to have her onboard.
“You better not make me,” she warns. “I’ll go get my stuff.” She looks sad and deflated as she heads up the stairs to pack, and something that feels a lot like empathy has me feeling a little guilty.
I turn my head to the door frame where the redhead and another girl both stand, arms crossed, looking at me as if they want me to burst into flames.
“You know…” Red steps up to me. “...I’ve gotten away with murder three times. If you hurt her, I’ll happily try my luck with a fourth.”
“Hurting your friend is not my intention, despite us getting off on the wrong foot. The only outcome I want from this is for everyone to get what they need.”
“And what about the motherless child the two of you are planning to create? Do you think they will have what they need? What will you tell them when they ask about their mother?” The other, softer-spoken girl poses her question.
“Truth is, I don’t know. I guess that’s something Gracie and I will decide between ourselves over the coming months.” I’ve not given that subject much thought; to be honest, I haven't given any of this much thought. I’m acting purely on instinct.
“Please don’t hurt her, Mr. Ravenshaw. She may appear tough; she’s put herself back together well enough, but once something gets broken, it’s never as it used to be.
” The girl moves on, heading in the same direction as the girl who was crying, and I ponder on what she just said, all while being scorned at by the redhead.
“Do you mind waiting in the car while I say my goodbyes?” Gracie returns downstairs ten minutes later, carrying a battered suitcase.
“Of course.” Taking it from her, I lower my head to the redhead and head out to join my driver.
I’m aware that there's probably a back exit she could use to escape, but something about the sadness in her eyes makes me believe that she’s accepted her fate. She’s committed to this sacrifice, not just for her, but for them.
My driver, whose name I’m yet to remember, eagerly hops out of his seat, reaching out to take the suitcase from me, but I shake my head and make my way around the car to open the boot myself.
There seems to be something satisfactory about doing things for her myself.
After securing her suitcase, I stand beside the car, waiting for her to come out, and just when I start to wonder if I've made a careless mistake in trusting her, the door opens, and she steps outside.
A sigh leaves my chest as she comes down the stairs to stand beside me on the pavement. “You okay?” I check, opening the car door for her to get inside.
“We’re going to be pretending many things, Jack, but let's not pretend you care.” Her words cut like a knife as she lowers her head and gets inside the car.