Chapter 11
LOCKE
I watched Jett sleep in the wide, leather chair across from me.
The man was a mystery.
Prior to bringing him to the Paxis tournament, I’d had my corporate security team run another background check on him to see if there was anything more to learn since I’d last run a check three years ago.
There was nothing new, with the sole exception of his address.
Jett’s current address was in Queens, which made no sense based on where Demarius had dropped him off the other night.
But this wasn’t a huge surprise. The man was a sex worker.
Not, I imagined, a demographic known for consistently sleeping at their legal addresses.
Because of his background and the services I required of him, I’d insisted on a clear STI panel in addition to the updated background check.
It should have been enough to satisfy my curiosity about him.
Was enough, damn it.
I blew out a breath and let my shoulders fall.
I didn’t need his life story to enjoy the services I’d hired him for. I didn’t need to make small talk with him, or worry about entertaining him, or wonder what circumstances had led him to stay somewhere other than at his Queens apartment. He was here for one reason only.
I wanted to own him. If only for a little while.
The memory of him on his knees for me in the back room of the plane made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. Jett’s mouth was as amazing as I’d remembered. Better, if such a thing were possible.
And he was being compensated for it generously, I reminded myself. I owed him nothing more.
But I did owe the Paxis Council my thorough knowledge of the global shipping landscape, the movement of contraband around the world, and recent technological innovations my company had been working on. So I went back to prepping for the tournament.
I tried not to notice every time Jett shifted or made a small sound.
But when he wrapped his arms around himself, I nodded to Kayla, silently asking for a blanket and indicating she should drape it over him.
He jerked awake when he felt the blanket land on his chest, but when he realized Kayla was only seeing to his comfort, he relaxed and shot her a grateful grin.
She returned his smile and disappeared back to the galley.
I pretended not to notice Jett’s eyes move to me. But I felt the heat of them all the same.
After a few long moments, he shifted in his seat and turned to gaze out the window. Within a few moments, he was softly snoring once more.
And then it was my turn to watch him. Again.
Kayla might not have noticed Jett’s knee-jerk reaction to being suddenly awakened, but I had. He’d looked ready for an attack. Like someone who’d slept on the streets or been in other precarious situations.
Again, not surprising. But it was another piece of the puzzle that made Jett such a strange combination of contradictions.
He sometimes came off as wealthier than he was—an act, I assumed, to fit in better with wealthy clients.
On the flight from Atlanta, he’d been wearing nicer clothes than he had in the past—more like a business traveler than someone planning to couch-surf with a friend while looking for a barista job or another dancing gig.
He definitely didn’t sound like someone from small-town South Carolina either, which might be for the same reason.
But I suddenly wanted to know… where else had he lived over the years? What jobs had he been taking to get by?
He’d mentioned a family card game his “dads” enjoyed, cousins on his father’s side living in Montana, and a scar he’d gotten from a sister, though the background check had shown him only having a mother and no siblings.
Did he invent stories about an imagined family as a kind of coping mechanism? Or did he know and have some kind of relationship with his father? Were those chapters of his life closed? Was his family unable to help him financially?
My curiosity was piqued, which was annoying as fuck. I didn’t have time to be so intrigued by someone I was only using for sex. He wasn’t a security risk, and that was the only thing I needed to concern myself with.
I focused on the work in front of me for the rest of the flight and tried like hell not to let Jett’s soft snores distract me.
We were met at the Salerno airport by a driver who quickly gathered our luggage and led us to my grandfather’s old Rolls for the drive to the villa.
I slipped into the back seat, expecting Jett to follow.
When he didn’t, I realized he was talking to the driver in broken Italian as he helped the man load the bags.
The sound of his friendly attempts at conversation was unexpected.
“You speak Italian?” I asked when he finally took the seat beside me.
“Not really,” he said with a laugh. “I did a few lessons on my phone over the weekend.”
“Have you been to Italy before?”
Jett’s cheeks flushed. “Is this where you reveal how small-town I am?”
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. But you’ve been to Amsterdam, so I wondered if maybe…”
“If maybe…” His eyes flicked up to the driver. “Another job had given me more travel experience?”
I shrugged and pressed the button to raise the privacy screen.
“I’ve been to some places. What about you?” he asked. “You’ve probably been all over the world with your job.”
He avoided answering the question despite the privacy screen. I wondered if it was due to his desire to avoid mentioning other men he’d been with or if it was due to his embarrassment at his lack of travel. I decided to let him evade the question.
For now.
“Yes. I started traveling with my grandfather at a very early age. And my mother enjoyed tropical vacations.” I glanced out the window at the bright sun reflecting off old tile-roof buildings. “I lived in London for a time. For graduate school.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
I glanced at him. “You don’t sound surprised.”
Jett grinned. “Italian wasn’t the only thing I looked up online this weekend.”
I rolled my eyes. “Be careful what you read on the internet.”
“Mm. So you didn’t date the governor’s daughter? I see.”
Kalliope Andros and I had dated for six months around the time I’d seen Jett in Amsterdam.
When I’d returned, it had become clear to me that Kalliope and I would only ever be sexual partners and social friends.
She was as politically driven as her father, and I didn’t want any part of that.
When she’d tried to manipulate my relationship with her father in order to impact complex port negotiations to his favor, I’d cut her loose.
I couldn’t abide liars or double-dealers.
“That didn’t last,” I said. “And was never serious to begin with.”
His eyes flicked back to the privacy screen, and he cleared his throat. “How can I best support you during this chess extravaganza, Mr. Maris?”
Right. Business.
“We’ll spend a couple of days preparing the house and staff for the tournament.
That means studying up on whatever information their people have sent ahead for accommodations, diet, et cetera, to ensure their comfort.
I need you to take point on this with my housekeeper.
Unfortunately, I have a lot of work I need to do before the guests arrive. ”
He nodded. “I can do that. My dads throw killer house parties, so I have lots of experience. What else?”
Again with the inconsistencies. But even if I couldn’t control my raging curiosity, I’d be damned if I let it show.
“When the guests arrive, I’ll obviously need you to help me make them feel welcome and comfortably accommodated. You’ll be a liaison between our guests and the household staff.”
He frowned. “Why don’t you ask your mother to act as hostess? She’s a society maven, right? Wouldn’t she like this kind of thing?”
I shook my head. “My father wasn’t a fan of Paxis, and he convinced her it was boring. She’s never been to a tournament. Which suited my grandfather fine because he didn’t trust her discretion.”
The car pulled up to a dark metal gate, and a guard stepped out of the gatehouse to speak to the driver.
“Discretion.” Jett pursed his lips. “What is there to tell about a chess tournament? How wild and crazy do these things—?”
I held up a hand to shut him up as my window rolled down so the guard could see who was inside.
“Ciao, Gianni,” I said with a nod.
The familiar man smiled and waved us through. “Mr. Maris. Welcome home.”
The words hit me in the gut. Villa Altomare was mine now. While I’d come to stay in January, to hide out for a week right after my grandfather’s death, it hit me again that this was my house, not his. That he was gone, and he’d left me responsible for carrying on the Maris legacy.
“Are you okay?” Jett asked softly when the window was safely rolled up.
I ignored his concern. In fact, it was the last thing I needed. I had no time or inclination for being coddled.
“This tournament is made up of powerful people,” I said, jaw tight.
“Other men and women in positions like mine. Heirs to family businesses that have been around for a very long time. I mentioned Paxis is an old-world variant of chess? Well, this group has existed nearly as long as the game has. For generations. I play with people who have a lot of money and wield significant influence.”
Jett turned toward me. “Like who?”
”Emil Sorensen, for one. His family remains the primary stakeholder in Soren Pharmaceuticals.”
I could tell by the look on his face, Jett recognized the company name. “Who else?”
“Sheikh Saleem al-Qadiri is the son-in-law of the ruling Emir of Qadara.”
Jett looked surprised before covering it up with his usual teasing manner. “I’ve never rubbed elbows with a real-life sheikh.”
“And you’re not going to,” I snapped. “Your job around the players is to be seen and not heard. I want you to be wallpaper. When I’m playing the game, if you’re in the room, you will stand silently behind me, awaiting my needs.”
Jett’s eyes darkened, and the grin he gave didn’t meet them. “Sit still, look pretty. Understood.”