Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
JAXON/JAX
Then
Stolen Fabric & The Jetstream Goodbyes
The latch catches, and what lingers burns like a debt I can’t afford.
Livianna flashes me a wicked gleam and returns her attention to the phone call she’s having with her dad. “I’m with Jaxon Crowne.”
What the hell, Livianna? I just told you NOT to tell him I’m with you.
This woman really knows how to fuck with me. That’s it. I’m done putting myself in situations with her where it could end my career.
Or worse, my life. If he finds out she spent the night in my suite, I could be in some serious trouble. Something I should’ve thought about last night.
Greg Hemings protects anything and everything he cares about in whatever ruthless tactic he finds necessary. I’ve known this about him for a long time and he’s going to have a conniption fit.
Just as I suspect, Livianna starts backpedaling. “Daddy, calm down. I didn’t stay the night with him. We’re meeting for breakfast.”
My heart slams against my ribs with each beat it takes. I pace in front of her and try to figure out what I’m going to tell her dad if he asks.
She speaks again. “Because he’s helping me with a strategic plan for Livianna Grace Designs.”
What? How did she come up with that? And he won’t likely believe it considering he knows I’m leaving the country soon.
She settles against the cushions and drops her smug gaze to the floor. I stop, run my hand over my mouth, and try to figure out what their conversation is about.
She lifts her eyes to mine and they’re filled with hurt. “I know that, Daddy. He’s giving me a few pointers before he goes. That’s why we’re meeting now.”
He must have told her I’m moving for a while. Damn, she’s fast on her feet.
It’s concerning how quickly she comes up with her responses. I tuck that information away.
“Of course I’ll tell him and I’m sure he’d say the same.” Livianna pulls the sweatshirt over her wrist and shrinks into a ball. “Let Mom know I said Happy New Year’s and I love her.”
Did she hide her arms under the material because she wants to itch her skin? I figured out last night when I was helping her as she got sick, she was scratching herself to the point she was bleeding.
Immediately, I thought it must be some kind of coping mechanism. My irritation with her drops a little and my compassion for her pain takes over my presence.
Someone knocks on my door. I stomp off to answer it, knowing it’s room service. Okay, her reckless behavior still has me on edge.
I answer the door and give the man in a white uniform a brief directive that he needs to be quiet when he sets up the table.
He agrees to my demands and I let him in. He places our meals out and makes the table up for two. When he’s finished, I lead him out.
She finishes her conversation with her father right as I’m tipping the guy and seeing him out the door.
I trudge back into the dining area, casting my frustrated gaze to her where she sits on the couch. “Would you care to explain why you did that when I was telling you not to?”
“I didn’t know he’d react that way.” She cowers.
“Really?” I plant my hands on my hips. “You’re his baby girl. How did you not see how spending the night with me would get a rise out of him?”
She rolls back her shoulders. “I fixed it, didn’t I?”
“I don’t know if you did. Your dad might be okay with you, but there’s no saying how he feels about me right now.”
“Why would he have any negative emotions about you? He thinks you’re helping me.”
“That’s if he believes you.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“You lied to him, Livianna.” I glower down at her as a realization hits me. “Or do you do that a lot and that’s how you know you’ve duped him?”
She swallows and stares at me with big, sad blue eyes. My insides tighten. I don’t want to be the reason she’s down, but I won’t tolerate being manipulated. Especially when lies are involved.
I take a breath. “Look, I’m not trying to judge you.”
“But you are.”
I glance away and ignore her confrontation. The heating system turns on and hums while we remain silent.
She’s not wrong about me. I sit beside her and treat this how I would during any business meeting that is going in the wrong direction.
“My reaction to how you dealt with your dad is more than that.”
“Then what is it? If you aren’t labeling me as a bad person for lying and covering for you, then what are you doing?”
“Covering for me? You’re the one who was… Never mind. The point is, if your dad doesn’t believe you, he might say something to someone who’s uncomfortable with this.” I motion between us. “They may choose not to do business with me because of that.”
“Because you let me sleep in your suite? That’s why they wouldn’t work with you?”
“Exactly. Rumors could spread and they’d think this thing that links us together is inappropriate.”
“I’d hate people saying things about us that aren’t true.” She suppresses a smile by biting on her lip. “What’s this thing that connects us?”
A growl rumbles through me. I berate myself for allowing my thoughts to venture into the possibility of something happening with her.
My dream was bad enough. Admitting it out loud would be sure to put me in a dangerous situation where she’s concerned.
I segue. “I’m having a hard time with your behavior because I don’t know how to trust you.”
“We can talk about that in a minute. First, I want to know about this connection you brought up.”
“You told your father I was helping you with your company. It might look like I’m giving out handouts or preferential treatment to a young woman, and that might not go over well.”
“So that’s how you see our relationship?”
“How else could I see it? That’s what this is. You’re my friend’s daughter who wants business advice from me.”
“You’ll never face it.” She gets up and sways to the table. “Let’s eat before this gets cold.”
I want to ask her what I won’t face, but that will just take me down a path I don’t want to discuss.
I sigh and rise to my feet. “That’s a good idea.”
She removes the lids from the dishes as I join her. The aroma of maple syrup fills the air and my stomach growls.
She peeks my way. “Hungry?”
“Yes. I didn’t eat much last night.”
“I didn’t either.” She gets comfortable in her seat and places a napkin on her lap. “Are you still okay with sharing with me?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” I follow suit and gesture to her. “Hand me your plate and I’ll serve it… If you want me to.”
She gives it to me with a sparkle in her eyes. “I only asked because you say we’re just business associates. And I’ve never seen two colleagues sit at a table in a hotel suite on New Year’s Day after spending the night together share their breakfast.”
“I took care of you and we didn’t do anything salacious. You know that’s all it was.” I portion out the eggs Benedict and the pancakes. “I’ll let you decide where to put the fruit.”
“Where would I put it other than on my plate?”
“You might want it on top of your pancakes.” I hand her meal to her.
“No. I want to savor the chocolate chips.” She takes her food with a beautiful grin of appreciation. “Thank you. Now let’s talk about why you don’t trust me.”
I stall and divi out my breakfast while I try to figure out how I want to word my explanation.
There are a few good reasons why I don’t trust her, but a big part of my reaction to her is how she makes me feel. That’s the piece that has me the most concerned.
“Livianna, I want to put this gently. I’ve seen you manipulate and lie to your dad. It doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Are you saying you never did that with yours?”
“No, I did, but you do things on top of that.”
“What kind of things?”
I cut into my eggs and decide to tackle this head-on. “Your drug use is the major reason for my lack of trust in you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She slices into her pancakes hard enough her knife scratches the plate.
She shoves food into her mouth. I consider letting her off the hook, but my chest swirls with a pressing need for her to understand she must stop her destructive ways.
I place my utensils down. “After I put you into bed, I was straightening out the room. I bumped your purse off the table and all the contents spilled out. Now you can sit here and lie to my face or prove you’re not a rebellious child and tell me the truth.”
She glares at me and swallows. “I’m not a child.”
“Then admit you use drugs and we can have an honest conversation about it.”
“Why is it any of your concern?”
“It’s not. But if you want my thoughts on it, I think you’re throwing your life away.”
“Why would you care?”
“Because I do.” I stare across the table and try to burn my earnestness into her eyes. “More than I should, probably.”
“Why?”
“Livianna, you have so much potential. You seem to have a drive deep in your soul. If you harness it and quit being so damn self-destructive, all your career dreams will come true.”
She wipes her mouth with her napkin, studying my expression with the precision of a laser. “Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Would you be willing to help me take my business to the next level?”
“Not if you’re using drugs.” I shrug. “I won’t waste my time with someone I believe isn’t taking my value seriously. If you don’t treat yourself well, how could you do it with your career?”
She glances at her purse, then back at me. “I’d take everything you shared to heart.”
“How can I be sure?”
“I guess you’d have to trust me.”
“It’s not that easy.” I take a sip of my coffee and ponder that for a moment. I place my cup down. “You’d need to prove to me I could first. I won’t go into this blindly and believe you wouldn’t manipulate me or lie to me like you do when you’re trying to get what you want.”
“I don’t do that all the time, Jax.” Her cheeks turn red and fire lights up her eyes. “I only do it…”
“What were you going to say?”
Her posture softens. “You’re right.”
“About?”
“I know how to work people into getting what I want. It’s like my superpower.”