Chapter 12
ELENA
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming from Jackson's touch. Had I really just slept with him? The evidence was pretty clear—my discarded clothes scattered across the floor, the broken dining table in the other room, and the delicious ache between my thighs.
God, Ivy would never believe this. I'd gone from investigating the Donatis to sleeping with their IT guy in record time. Not exactly the covert operation.
The sheets still smelled like him—like sandalwood and something distinctly male. I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow where his head had rested moments before. What was I doing? This wasn't part of the plan. None of this was part of the plan.
My phone rang from somewhere in the apartment, the shrill tone cutting through my thoughts. I pulled on my nightgown and padded out to retrieve it, my bare feet silent against the hardwood floor.
Jackson stood in the kitchen, his back to me, his phone pressed to his ear. He wore only his briefs, the muscles of his back shifting as he spoke in low tones. The burn scars I'd traced earlier mapped across his skin like a testament to whatever hell he'd survived. So beautiful and tragic.
I glanced at my purse on the floor, bending to fish out my phone while looking over at Jackson again.
He turned slightly, catching sight of me, and something in his expression changed. His eyes hardened, calculating in a way I hadn't seen before. A shiver coursed through me at the look. Why was he giving me that look? Had something happened?
Did he know about my digging?
My breath caught, but he didn't say a word to me as he continued talking quietly on the phone.
My phone continued ringing in my hand, and Ivy's face lit up the screen. Jackson's gaze followed my movement, his conversation continuing in hushed tones as my stomach knotted.
I retreated to the bedroom, answering the call as I closed the door behind me.
"Hey," I whispered. I needed to tell her what was going on, especially with that look from Jackson. I thought we'd shared something, but now, I was unsettled. Something was wrong, and I needed to let someone know, maybe get out of here now, run away even.
"Elena?" Ivy's voice came through in a hushed, urgent tone. "That Malatesta guy came back tonight, Alfie."
I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling a pillow into my lap for comfort. "What happened?"
"I tried getting more information, like we talked about." Her words tumbled out in a rush. "I told him my father used to be friends with the father of the new Mrs. Donati, and I asked if he knew anything about them."
My stomach twisted. I'd told her to leave it alone, it was dangerous. Why was she like this? My heart fluttered as I bit my lip. "Ivy, why? I told you not to?—"
"I know, okay? But I dropped Anthony Cassaro's name," she cut me off in a harsh whisper.
"And he recognized it right away. Said something about remembering that 'supposed accident.
'" I could hear the air quotes in her voice.
"The way he said it, Elena... I'm positive they're behind your father's death. "
Of course. Just to confirm what I'd already suspected. But now, Ivy had put herself in the firing line of these likely mafia families.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
"I can try to get more?—"
"No," I cut her off instantly. "Don't. It's all too risky, Ivy. Please, I'm begging you, leave this all alone. I want to end this now."
"End what now?"
I froze at the sound of Jackson's voice. He stood in the doorway, arms folded across his bare chest, leaning against the frame. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes were cold in a way that made my blood turn to ice.
Ivy went silent on the other end of the line. "Elena?" she finally whispered. "Is there a man there? Whose there? Are you safe?"
I couldn't tear my gaze away from Jackson.
Despite the fear crawling up my throat, I couldn't help noticing how good he looked—the defined muscles of his chest and arms, the dark tattoo that snaked around his bicep and down his arm right to the wrist, the way his briefs hung low on his hips.
It wasn't fair that someone so dangerous could look so damn good.
"I think we need to talk, Elena," Jackson said, his voice deceptively soft.
"Elena?" Ivy called through the phone, panic edging into her voice. "Elena, what's happening?"
"I have to go," I managed, my mouth dry. "I love you."
I ended the call before she could respond, setting the phone beside me on the bed. Jackson pushed away from the doorframe and stalked toward me, his movements fluid and predatory. I scrambled backward until my back hit the headboard, pulling my knees up to my chest like a shield.
Was he going to hurt me? The thought flashed through my mind, followed by the realization that I had no way to defend myself. I was in only a nightgown, vulnerable, trapped in my own bedroom with a man who might be far more dangerous than I'd realized.
"Why were you looking into old financials today?" he asked, his voice too calm. It terrified me even more. "Specifically, payments to Pristine Solutions from fourteen years ago?"
My breath caught in my throat. How did he know exactly what I'd been searching for? Unless...
"The office is monitored, isn't it?" I whispered, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it.
His silence was confirmation enough.
"Were you ever really in IT?" I dug my fingers into the sides of my legs as I hugged them to myself.
A humorless smile curved his lips. "I need you to answer my question, Elena. I don't want to have to extract the information from you."
The clinical way he said "extract" made my skin prickle. This wasn't the same man who'd made me laugh when we broke my dining table, who'd carried me to bed and made me feel things I'd never felt before. Who'd let me touch his scars and shared a moment with me.
I guess that had meant nothing.
"Just tell me the truth," he continued, his voice softening slightly. "I need to know I'm wrong about what I'm thinking."
Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. I curled tighter into myself, biting my lip to try to keep some composure.
"I think..." I swallowed hard, trying to force the words past the lump in my throat. "I think the Donatis might be bad people. That they did something bad."
Jackson's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "Why were you looking into those specific financial records?"
I couldn't lie my way out of this, and in all honesty, I didn't even want to. I'd almost told him everything when he'd asked me about coming to Ironstone. I was tired of pretending, of carrying this weight, of holding it all together.
"It all started because I was looking for my dad," I admitted softly, everything unraveling inside me.
"My mom's treatments were putting us in so much debt, I couldn't borrow more.
We needed money, and I thought maybe he could help even though it's been so long.
That he'd finally step up… I thought he'd have money to save her. "
Jackson frowned, his brow furrowing. "What does that have to do with Pristine Solutions? With the Donatis?"
My phone rang again beside me, Ivy's face lighting up the screen. I ignored it, keeping my eyes on Jackson.
"My PI discovered who my father was," I whispered, the words burning my throat on their way out. "Anthony Cassaro."
Recognition dawned on Jackson's face, his eyes widening slightly before his expression shuttered closed again. He pulled out his phone, his thumbs moving rapidly across the screen as he sent a text.
"Why did you really start working at Donati Enterprises?" he asked, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
The dam broke. Sobs tore from my throat as the weight of everything crashed down on me—my mother's cancer, my father's death, the desperation that had driven me here, and now this, the fear that gripped me as I faced a man who could very well be my executioner.
"I wanted to see who my half-siblings were before I tried to ask them for help," I choked out between sobs. "I knew they wouldn't believe me if I just showed up claiming to be their sister."
Jackson sighed, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them again, some of the coldness had receded. He reached out, his hand moving toward my knee, and I flinched involuntarily.
He paused, then withdrew his hand. "I need to verify all of this," he said, his voice much more gentle now, tinged with what sounded like relief. "Don't go anywhere."
He reached for my phone, his fingers closing around it before I could protest. "I'll need this."
I watched, helpless, as he left the room with my only connection to the outside world. The click of the bedroom door closing behind him sounded like a prison cell locking shut.
What had I done? In trying to find answers about my father, had I stumbled into something far more dangerous than I could have imagined? And what would happen to me now that Jackson knew the truth?
I pulled the blanket around me, shivering despite the warmth of it. It smelled like him, and I hated that I found that somewhat comforting even now.
The tears continued to fall, silent now, as I waited for whatever came next.