Chapter 32
Maddy
I am twenty-six, and Jett is twenty-seven.
It’s early October in the south of England.
The sun is attempting to peek through the unrelenting grey as we pull up like a funeral procession to one of the most gorgeous places I’ve seen in a while.
We’re all here, the entire cast of Palace of Lies, sans crew or Mickie, and me being a grown ass woman, and my boyfriend being extremely busy promoting his new album, I should be here on my own. But surprise, surprise, I’m not.
Jett had three appearances in London yesterday, and now that we’re out of the city, I feel like I can finally take a breath. He squeezes my knee and lets out an impressed huff seeing our destination, while Kel carefully takes out the last few pin curls she’s had stuck to my head overnight.
He gapes out the window. “So beautiful, most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’ve seen other than my Baby and my Kel. Just mental.”
Kel rolls her eyes, but her apple cheeks turn a devastating shade of scarlet.
Kel has loved Jett since she was sixteen, blasting his rebellious records in her teenage bedroom in not-so-rebellious Notting Hill.
Sometimes I’m mad that I’m not as smart as Kel, that I didn’t pull my head out of my ass and become Jett’s fangirl from the start like her.
She never loses her cool around him, though; other than her cheek color, even her perfectly applied bronzer and highlighter can’t cover that.
“Can you believe how well it still stands? Wardour Castle has been here since the fourteenth century,” she says, making sure our attention is away from her and that blush. It doesn't work, my boy's eyes hone in on her.
“Kel, what's your type? Blokes?”
“Not you if that's what you're suggesting!” The blush spreads across her entire face.
“Uh huh. Then who?”
“Probably Michael B. Jordan, I literally watch Sinners before bed just so he can make an appearance in my dreams.”
Jett barks out a laugh. “Smoke and Stack? No bloody way. I have their triplet. Swear it. Tell me you like giant men who don't say much until they start singing like Marvin Gaye and Bruno Mars had a baby?”
She's redder than a lobster now, her head nodding at the speed of light. I snort.
“Oh Kel baby, please tell me you're not married to living in London. All you need to do is hop on a plane, doll face, I’d have your life made.
You know how happy that'd make us?” He glances my way and my head tingles.
The way he would do anything to make me happy, even take up a second job as a matchmaker. Sigh.
“Let me just…” Kel taps at her phone, “look up flights now!”
I'm on cloud nine just thinking about the idea but I don’t miss how Jett instantly stiffens when the car in front of us stops, letting out Ace and a few others.
Even though I’ve known Jett for eight years, there are still plenty of things he does that make me blush.
The main one right now is how fucking overprotective Jett is of me when Ace is in the room.
Or in this case, basically outside, because this castle isn’t really standing well, from what I can see.
I’m not sure how much of the inside is left.
Lush green lawn surrounds the bleached-out, crumbling stone structure from the 1300s.
It’s about as mystical as an ancient, mostly ruined Castle can possibly be, and yet Ace’s presence is about to suck all the magic out of it.
Jett not wanting Ace anywhere near me is far from a secret; like the entire cast and crew know, it’s that obvious. I love how his black-lab boyfriend presence, as in a black cat/black lab/golden retriever boyfriend hybrid, makes everyone around me just a little on edge.
Jett is kind and personable. Jett is playful and sweet and cute.
But not around Ace Archer, and the way he stands like a bouncer in all black like his hair with black shades on, crossing his arms with a slight pout – and a devastating flex of his biceps and triceps – just ruins my panties every time.
Jett helps me out of the car and then Kel.
“How do I look?” I ask her. She whips out some gloss and highlighter and after a little application proclaims I’m photo ready. She gives me an air kiss before sneaking off to go touch up the others.
Jett takes our autumn leather jackets, not to be confused with our summer ones, out of the car and slams the door closed. He helps me into mine and shrugs into his. His eyes dance over me, noting the contrast of tough black leather over the sophisticated burgundy satin dress that hugs every curve.
“Aren’t you going to ask me? The answer will be quite different,” he says, hands on my hips.
My lips quirk into a smile, “How do I look, Jett?”
He shakes his head, eyes darkening. He yanks my hips so I’m flush against him, lowering his voice to that gravely, desperate level that sends heat sliding down my spine. “No, Baby. Not Jett. Not anymore.”
My glossy lips hover just above his ear, “How do I look, sir?”
“You look like the devil designed you with me in mind. You’re the most gorgeous fucking creature that has ever walked the earth, and your beauty has ruined every other woman for me.
You’re so beautiful, Matilda. You don’t understand the way everyone else pales in comparison, just one of so many reasons I plan to make you my fuckin’ wife, Baby. ”
My hands shake as I press them to Jett’s chest, and the scent of leather, his dark, musky cologne, his hungry eyes, and his sweet words make my head float heavenward.
I want to kiss him, I want him to fuck me against this crumbling castle, I want to be the only two people here.
But we’re most definitely not, and the photographer whistles for Jett and me to break it up and join the group.
He threads his fingers through mine, and we start to walk over.
“Do I have rockstar wife vibes right now?”
“Shit, Baby, that’s an understatement. You belong on stage with me, or stage left, with that very important princess badge strung around your neck.
Not here with these losers, save for Kel.
” He looks around and sighs. “I wish to have you all to myself here, babe, should I arrange that?” his husky whisper low in my ear, “Tonight. Alone? Look at all the places you could hide from me. But I’d still find you. ”
I gasp as my nipples harden and desire instantly soaks through my thong. My cheeks flush, and I worry about the state of the satin dress, and Jett arches an eyebrow. One look at my reaction is all he needs.
“Oh, well that’s a fucking yes.”