Chapter 21 #2
“Do you want me even when you pretend you don’t?” He nods subtly, and I take off the top. “So tell me, Jasper…” I trace my fingers down his chest, stopping just above a very interesting area. “Who is Samantha and why is Robbie booking her a hotel room?”
“No idea.”
“That’s not the right answer and you know it.”
I start to step back and his whole body seems to twist in pain at the mere thought of me leaving him like this. I do it anyway. It hurts me as much as it hurts him.
But I can’t give up now. I’m this close. I just need… one more push.
So I sit on the edge of the bed, lean back on my arms, and spread my legs, leaving him between them, analyzing everything while he thinks about his next answer.
“I’ll give you one more chance,” I say. My legs open and close once, drawing all his attention, then open again as I ask, “Who is Samantha?”
“Samantha is Boyce Avenue’s agent, Julie,” he says, his voice calm but slightly shaky. And for a moment, I’m stunned.
I don’t know if it’s the truth or a lie.
I don’t even know what he’s planning by telling me this.
“Boyce Avenue?” I repeat, confused. The seductive Julie is gone, and I don’t even know where she went. “The band Boyce Avenue?”
He rolls his eyes and shrugs.
Shit. Is he serious?
“The band Boyce Avenue,” he confirms. “Robbie hired them to play ‘Everything,’ by Lifehouse, for the first dance, because apparently that was the song playing when they…”
Boinked. That’s what happened. Robbie and Mila boinked for the first time. I’ve heard this story way too many times to forget.
But Jasper grimaces, still thinking about a better word. He probably wants to say the same as me, but because of the romantic story and probably because of what Robbie has been telling him, he’s forced to say, “…made love for the first time.”
“Boyce Avenue would never stay at the City Express,” I argue quickly, in case this is a lie.
“It’s for the crew. The band will stay at an all-inclusive in the hotel zone.”
Shit! I believe him.
I only have my panties left, and I guess I should take them off, but the mood is totally gone.
“And what am I supposed to do with this information?”
Nothing. I can do nothing. Mila can’t know. Not yet. I can’t ruin a surprise like this. But… to keep it safe, I’ll need to distract her with something. Some crazy investigation. A convincing lie about who Samantha is.
He shrugs.
“You can’t tell her.”
“I know that, Jasper. But now I know, and I’m terrible at keeping secrets and–”
“You seem to be keeping secrets just fine. I mean, maybe not from Tony or Cordelia, but… actually, yes, you are terrible at keeping secrets, Jules.”
“Shut up.”
He comes closer, and this time it’s not to tease me.
It’s not a game.
It’s almost like he’s comforting me.
“You think she’d calm down if you told her it was a surprise and not cheating?”
“Mila?” I almost laugh. “She said Robbie is boring and doesn’t do surprises, that’s why she’s marrying him.”
Jasper stands between my legs, his thighs against the bed, and I’m practically naked except for the panties. He places his hands on my knees, and apparently we’re having a normal conversation like nothing is going on and I’m fully clothed.
“You think she’d believe if you said I did something wrong and now Robbie is fixing it in secret?” he suggests.
I don’t even need to think about that one.
“Absolutely.”
“Then tell her that.” He shrugs. “Say I owe a pimp a hundred grand. Say I bet my apartment on some wild boar race in Valladolid, I don’t care.”
“You’d let me say that? Even knowing what everyone already says about you?”
He shrugs again, and I watch the faded scar on his shoulder move.
“I don’t care what people say about me. You don’t know how much work it takes to build a reputation like mine. It’d actually help.”
I laugh, shaking my head to show I disapprove of all that.
“Was it to build your reputation that you made everyone believe you got your scar in a bar fight with a pirate?”
He glances at his shoulder, as if he’s only remembering it now.
“It was in a tavern,” he corrects. “In Barbados.”
My throat scratches with an even sillier laugh.
“Of course it was,” I say.
And for a moment, I forget self-control and trace the scar with my fingers, following the line of the wound, the tiny marks on both sides locating the exact place of the stitches. Jasper looks down at my hand on him.
When he looks back up, something changes. No more teasing. No more jokes.
Just him, as serious and raw as death.
I’ve never seen Jasper look at me like this.
“It was a car accident when I was sixteen.”
Because he’s looking at me like that, I feel compelled to ask, “Was it serious?”
“Not really,” he replies. “I had just gotten my license and was alone in the car for the first time. A little girl ran across the street, so I panicked and lost control trying to avoid her. Hit a tree and broke my collarbone.”
Damn.
“Did you manage to avoid her?”
“Yeah, she was fine. It was the most terrifying moment of my life, and it took me six months to drive again, but nothing really happened.”
I lick my lips in a total unconscious movement. That Jasper notices right away.
“You’re pathetic,” he says, rolling his eyes. My jaw drops, as if I have no idea what he’s talking. But of course he will explain anyways. “You’re turned on because I’m telling you I crashed a car and got a lifelong scar trying to save a little girl?”
“That’s not why,” I protest, basically admitting I’m turned on by some reason here.
“It’s not?”
“No. It’s just… you act like the heartless evil lawyer so well that sometimes we forget Jasper Hassmann is also human.”
“Don’t say stuff like that, are you crazy?” he scolds, placing a finger on my lips, but his eyes sparkle in my direction. “I can’t keep a seven-figure salary without my reputation, Jules.”
I choke.
“Seven figures?” I repeat, but he just shrugs like it’s nothing. I don’t even know how much that is. “Holy shit! You’re actually rich!”
This time I don’t even ask. I’m just confirming.
“Well, the IRS takes practically half of everything in the end, but –”
“I always thought you were show-off rich.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means you make decent money but don’t spend much, so you look fancier than actual rich people who have to spend on things like sponsoring wings in Harvard to secure their kids’ college degree, private school, and all that.”
“Yeah, my kids definitely won’t be going to private school,” he says.
And this is not the surprising part.
“You want kids?”
“Do I want kids?” Jasper repeats, taking his time to think. “I don’t know. Never really thought about it.”
“Didn’t Rebecca from LA want kids?” I mention her because she’s the only one he ever had something serious enough with. And because I hope he’ll talk about her like she’s in the past and not… not someone still occupying that painful place in his heart.
“She did, but I always thought it was something that would happen after we got married, not something I actually wanted.”
“And it’s still not something you want?”
“I have until I’m seventy to worry about that, Julie. I’m in no rush.”
I guess this is what I wanted. A light conversation without resentment, regrets, or what-ifs. My heart jumps with his answer.
Warm. Hopeful. Almost delusional.
And suddenly I’m wondering if… If he doesn’t think about her anymore, maybe he’s free to… think about me.
Still, I respond with laughter.
“Oh, you poor man! You really think your dick will stay hard long enough to make a baby when you’re seventy?” I laugh harder. “Even if it did, you wouldn’t want that, you’d end up creating some mutant baby with your defective sperm.”
“You seem to be thinking way too much about my sperm, Julie, is there something I should know?”
“It’s not your sperm I’m worried about, Assman,” I answer immediately, before he thinks I’m trying to trap him. Especially now that I know he’s rich. Or worse: before he thinks I’m already pregnant.
In the last four days since that night on the beach.
I mean, he may know everything about law, but I have no idea how much he actually knows about biology.
“You’re worried about yourself?” he asks, squeezing my thigh lightly. Not teasing, but not accidental either. Just enough to make me look up at him.