Chapter 25
JESSE
My sleuthing paid off.
I waited in the breakfast area of a mid-range hotel in the inner city, sipping extremely mediocre coffee and wearing sunglasses indoors. While I knew I probably looked suspicious as hell, I didn’t care if people thought I had something to hide.
It was true. I had several things to hide, actually. One of them being that I might be falling for a woman I’d spent the better part of a week convincing myself I couldn’t have. Another being that I was currently hunting down her ex-fiancé like a deranged but well-dressed bloodhound.
While I was drumming my fingers against the table, scanning the room for the tenth time, I finally saw him. Thomas Germain. I recognized him immediately, but I actually looked at him properly this time.
Now that I knew who he was, I couldn’t deny that I was curious.
He was tall, but probably at least half a head shorter than me.
I wasn’t mad about that. With sandy, curly hair that hung across his forehead and made him look like a douche, and thick-rimmed glasses sitting on his nose, I had no idea how he’d landed a girl like her.
Sure, he was put together in that academic, I read non-fiction books for fun and judge people silently kind of way. But still. That didn’t seem like Jacque’s type to me at all.
Sitting with a couple of people who looked like colleagues, he seemed far too comfortable for a man who had, in my professional opinion, committed a cardinal sin. He’d stolen her dog. That was unforgivable.
The fact that a woman like Jacque had committed to marrying him and then he’d walked away from her? Now that was just fucking stupid. I had never been the marrying type but even I could tell Jacque was special.
I didn’t hesitate to stand and saunter over to their table. While I didn’t have a plan, I did have vibes and that would be all I needed. Guys like him always got freaked out by guys like me. The confidence made them uncomfortable—at least, that was what Alex had once told me.
We’d been teenagers talking about lunchroom drama, but I supposed it was just the same shit, different day. When I reached them, I kicked out the empty chair beside him and sat down, spreading my legs out ahead of me and folding my arms.
I turned my head to face him immediately, making it clear who I was here for right off the bat, and the table went deathly quiet. Four pairs of eyes snapped to me with varying degrees of confusion and offense splashed across their prim features.
Thomas frowned. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I hope so.” I smiled, as easy as if we were old friends catching up over brunch. I stuck out my hand. “Jesse Westwood.”
The faint tightening around his eyes and the glances his colleagues exchanged before they suddenly became a lot more interested in their coffee told me that they recognized my name. Thomas didn’t take my hand, so I shrugged and let it drop.
“You’re Thomas, right?”
“I am,” he said slowly, suspicion clearly creeping in. “Are you sure you were looking for me, Thomas Germain?”
“Yep. It’s great to have found you. It’ll make this a lot easier.”
His eyebrows drew together sharply. “What will be easier?”
I tilted my head, still smiling as I locked my eyes on his extremely flat hazels. “Do you know someone named Jacqueline?”
His shoulders stiffened and his colleagues suddenly looked like they desperately wished they were anywhere else. Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
I glanced around the table before bringing my gaze back to his and letting my smile widen. Let him think I was unhinged. If he didn’t heed my warning, he might learn that I could be. “That’s a great question. Would you like to have this conversation in private or with an audience?”
One of his colleagues coughed into her coffee. Another stared very intently at a croissant, like it held the secrets of the universe. Thomas’s jaw tightened, but he pushed his chair back. “Excuse me.”
I stood with him and gestured politely for him to lead the way. We walked a few feet away, coming to a standstill near a sad little juice station that looked like it had given up on life sometime in the late nineties.
He turned to me then, scowling. Perhaps even hoping he’d scare me off. “What do you want?”
I slipped my hands into my pockets, cheerfully rocking back on my heels. “Honestly? Just a quick chat.”
“About Jacqueline?”
I shrugged. “Among other things.”
His eyes narrowed. “What is she to you?”
I almost laughed. At this point, the more accurate question is, what isn’t she to me?
“That’s irrelevant,” I said, keeping my tone conversational, but I felt my smile turn cold. “I’ll keep this simple for you, shall I? Where’s the dog, Thomas?”
He tried to look completely blank, but instead, I saw him blanch a little bit. “What dog?”
“The dog. Hubert. Big, lovable, and probably better than both of us combined. You know what I’m talking about. Jacqueline’s dog.”
Sharp defensiveness slid into place across his features and then, like a switch had flipped, he started speaking in rapid-fire French.
“Seriously?” I said, deadpan.
He kept going, gesturing like this was a perfectly normal response to being asked about a stolen dog. I stared at him for a second, then let out a short laugh and shook my head.
“Okay, we’re really doing this,” I muttered. “The I suddenly don’t speak English thing.”
He didn’t stop and I nodded slowly, my lips pressing together. I looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. “Alright, then. That’s fine. We can do French.”
I couldn’t do French. Not well, anyway, but I could do persistence and I had all day. Obviously, I’d rather get back to Jacqueline, but I knew how important this was to her, so it would definitely be worth it.
In the end, I let him go on in French for a solid ten seconds longer, wanting him to feel like he was getting away with it, but then I let out a long, exaggerated sigh and held up a hand.
“Okay, buddy. Look, I can see that you’re enjoying this international man of mystery bit, but I’m bored. Let’s try this again.”
I injected an edge into my voice, just to help me make the point. “Where. Is. The. Dog?”
He scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ah. We’re back to English. That’s great.
“Okay,” I said. “Naturally, the more logical explanation is that Hubert packed up his own shit while you were packing yours and decided to leave all by himself, huh?”
When he didn’t respond, I leaned in closer until I saw the flash of discomfort in his eyes.
I smiled again. “Here’s the thing. I’m not really asking for me.
I’m asking because Jacqueline deserves better than whatever the hell you pulled and I’m in a position to make your life inconvenient if you decide to keep playing dumb. ”
He scoffed, but it was weaker now. “Is that a threat?”
I tilted my head, pretending to think about it until I finally shrugged. “Nah. It’s more of a friendly heads-up.”
Straightening to my full height, I slipped my hands back into my pockets and decided to let the name do the work for me. “I’m a Westwood, which means I have people in high places all over the world. Lawyers. Investors. People who either make problems go away or create them, depending on the day.”
His expression hardened, but at least he was listening now.
I patted him on the shoulder. “So here’s what’s going to happen if you don’t want them to create problems for you.
You’re going to think very carefully about whether or not you want to keep a dog that isn’t yours, and the next time you see me, because you will be seeing me again unless Hubert is returned to his rightful owner, it won’t be nearly as pretty. ”
The truth was that I didn’t really like intimidating people or threatening them. I even almost felt bad about it, but then I remembered Jaq’s face last night, so crumpled and shaken, and whatever sympathy I might’ve had evaporated.
When I clapped him on the shoulder again, it was hard enough to jolt him forward half a step. “Great chat, buddy. I look forward to seeing you soon.”
Incapable of leaving well enough alone, I headed back to his table, reached over, grabbed the croissant off his plate, and took a bite. He stared at me like I’d just committed a war crime, but I shot him another smile in return.
“You know, this is better than the coffee.” On that note, I picked up the cup that belonged to him too, taking a long sip before setting it back down.
I knew I’d just violated every social boundary known to man, but I kept smiling when I turned back to him.
“Have a good rest of your morning. I know I will.”
As I spun and walked away, I could feel eyes on me, but I didn’t care. I’d finally used my powers for good, and hopefully, Jacqueline wouldn’t kill me when she found out because she’d be getting Hubert back.
When I glanced back at them over my shoulder, I saw them all still watching me, Thomas clearly fuming, and then I decided that I might as well add insult to injury.
“You really fumbled the ball by breaking up with her, you know!” I called out, loud enough that the entire breakfast area heard it. “Thanks for that.”
A couple of heads snapped in his direction and one of his colleagues choked on his coffee, but I shot him a wink and finally left. For real this time.
Honestly, the guy really had made a mistake of epic proportions when he’d left her, but now, I was going to go get my girlfriend, fake or real, and spend the day with her. All the while knowing that Thomas was going to spend the rest of the day seething.
Serves you right, bro. Seriously. Who ends an eight-year relationship without so much as a goodbye? Who ends a relationship with a woman like that at all?