Chapter 13 Phoenix
PHOENIX
Marcus shows up at my office at seven in the morning.
I'm already here, have been since five. Couldn't sleep. Keep replaying yesterday on the yacht. The way Jade felt in my arms. The moment before my phone rang when I was so close to kissing her I could taste it.
The way she looked at me like she wanted it too.
"You look like hell," Marcus says, dropping into the chair across from my desk.
"Thanks for the observation."
"When's the last time you slept?"
"I don't know. Tuesday?"
"It's Thursday."
I wave him off. "What do you want?"
Marcus studies me for a long moment. Then he says, "The Singapore investors moved up their timeline. They want to meet Friday night. Two days from now."
My stomach drops. "That's not enough time."
"It's the time you have." He leans forward. "They specifically asked if you'd be bringing someone. Apparently word got out that you've been seen with a woman. They want to meet her."
Of course they do. The Singapore group is traditional, conservative. They've made comments before about my "playboy lifestyle," suggested that someone so "uncommitted" might not be the best steward of their money.
"Her name is Jade," I say.
"I know her name. The question is: does she know what Friday means?"
"No."
"Are you going to tell her?"
I don't answer.
Marcus sighs. "You're in deep with this girl."
"I've always been in deep with her."
"No." He shakes his head. "Before, she was an idea. A fantasy. A girl in a photograph you've been obsessed with since you were ten. But now she's real. She's here. And you don't know what to do with that."
He's not wrong.
For seventeen years, Jade has been a photograph. A blog I read in secret. A life I watched from a distance. I knew everything about her without her knowing I existed.
It was safe that way. Clean. My obsession couldn't hurt anyone because it was private, contained.
But now she's in my house. In my bed—well, in the guest cottage, but close enough. Now she's real and complicated and looking at me like she's trying to figure out if I'm dangerous or just intense.
The answer is both.
"Friday dinner," Marcus says. "The investors need to see you settled. Stable. Worthy of their trust and their $50 million. Can Jade handle that?"
"She'll be fine."
"That's not what I asked. Will she WANT to? Does she know what she's walking into?"
No. She doesn't. She thinks this is about me showing her my world. Thinks I'm trying to seduce her with wealth and power.
She's not wrong about the seduction part.
But she doesn't know about Friday. Doesn't know that I need her there, looking at me like she did on the yacht. Doesn't know that these investors have made it clear they won't trust a "bachelor playboy" with their money.
"I'll handle it," I tell Marcus.
"Handle it how?"
"I'll tell her we have a business dinner. That I'd like her to come. She can say no if she wants."
"Will she say no?"
I think about yesterday. The way she melted into me on the yacht. The way she looked when I told her she could have this life.
"No. She won't say no."
Marcus stands. "Just don't screw this up. This is the biggest deal we've ever had. Don't let some girl—"
"Don't." My voice is sharp enough that he stops. "Don't call her 'some girl.'"
"Then what is she?"
The question I can't answer.
What is Jade to me?
The girl I've been obsessed with for seventeen years. The woman whose writing I've memorized. The person I paid $387,000 just to get her to notice me.
Mine. She's mine.
Except she doesn't know that yet.
"I'll take care of it," I tell Marcus. "Friday will be fine."
He leaves, and I sit in the silence of my office as the sun rises over the city.
Two days. I have two days to prepare Jade for a dinner she doesn't know is happening. Two days to decide if I'm going to tell her the truth.
Because the truth is complicated.
The truth is: I've been watching her for years. I know things about her she's never told anyone. I've read her private blog, tracked her movements, learned her patterns.
The truth is: I sent her that money not just to help her, but to trap her. To give her a reason to come to me. To make her dependent on my generosity so she'd feel obligated to stay.
The truth is: I want her here. Permanently. Not just for a week.
And the truth is: if she knew any of this, she'd run.
So I'll keep lying. For two more days. Maybe longer.
I'll show her my world, make her comfortable in it, make her want to stay. And when she's in deep enough, maybe then she'll understand.
Or maybe she'll hate me.
Either way, I'm not letting her go.
My phone buzzes. A text from my assistant.
Ms. Catalano called. She'd like to borrow a car today to explore on her own.
Something cold settles in my chest.
Alone. She wants to be alone. Away from me.
I type back: Tell her Robert will drive her anywhere she wants to go.
The response comes immediately.
She specifically asked for a car. Said she wants to drive herself.
I stare at the message.
She wants independence. Wants space. Wants to prove she's not under my control.
I should let her. Should give her the illusion of freedom she needs.
Instead, I text: Give her the Range Rover. Tell her to have her phone on. And activate the GPS tracker.
I'm not letting her out of my sight. Not when I'm this close to having everything I want.
The assistant sends back a thumbs up, and I set my phone down.
This is who I am. This is what I do. I watch. I track. I control.
And Jade has no idea.
At noon, I get an alert on my phone. The Range Rover is moving. I pull up the GPS tracker and watch the little dot that represents Jade driving north on Pacific Coast Highway.
She's exploring. Probably trying to clear her head. Trying to figure out what she's doing here with me.
I should let her have this. Should focus on work, on the Singapore deal, on the hundred other things demanding my attention.
Instead, I watch that dot on my screen like it's the most important thing in the world.
At 2 PM, she stops at a beach in Zuma. Stays there for an hour.
At 4 PM, she's at a bookstore in Santa Monica.
At 6 PM, she's heading back south. Back to Malibu. Back to me.
My phone rings. It's her.
"Hi," she says when I answer. "I borrowed your car. I hope that's okay."
"Of course. Did you have a good time?"
"Yeah. I just needed to think."
"About?"
She's quiet for a moment. "About this. About you. About what I'm doing here."
"And what are you doing here, Jade?"
"I don't know yet."
The honesty in her voice makes something in my chest tighten.
"There's a dinner Friday night," I tell her. "Business associates. Investors from Singapore. I'd like you to come with me."
Silence.
"Jade?"
"Why do you want me there?"
Because I need you there. Because this deal depends on me looking stable and settled. Because you're the only thing that makes any of this worth it.
"Because I want to show you off," I say instead. "Because I want them to meet you."
"I don't know anything about business dinners."
"You don't have to. Just be yourself."
"I don't have anything to wear to something like that."
"I'll take care of it."
"Phoenix—"
"Please, Jade. It would mean a lot to me."
I can hear her breathing on the other end of the line. Can practically hear her thinking, weighing, deciding.
"Okay," she finally says. "Sure."
Relief floods through me. "Thank you."
"But I'm not pretending to be something I'm not. I'm not playing a part."
"I'm not asking you to. I just want you there."
"Okay."
We hang up, and I lean back in my chair.
Two days. I have two days to make sure she's comfortable enough to go through with this. Two days to make sure she doesn't realize what's really happening.
Two days to keep lying.
Because the alternative is telling her the truth. And the truth would destroy this before it even begins.
My phone buzzes. Another text from Marcus.
She’s coming with you right?
Yes.
Good. We can’t fuck this up. $50M is on the line.
I delete the message.
Marcus thinks this is about money. About the deal. About impressing investors and closing the biggest acquisition of our careers.
He's wrong.
This is about Jade. It's always been about Jade.
The money is just an excuse. A reason to keep her close. A justification for the obsession I've been nursing for seventeen years.
If the deal falls apart, I'll survive. I have enough money to last ten lifetimes.
But if I lose Jade?
That's not something I'll recover from.
So I'll do whatever it takes. I'll lie, manipulate, control.
I'll make her need me the way I need her.
And if she ever finds out the truth, if she ever discovers the extent of what I've done to get her here?
I'll deal with that when it happens.
For now, I have two more days.
Two days to make her mine.
And I'm not wasting a single second.