7. Jax
Jax
Ialready knew I was in over my head, but this is something else.
I expected fireworks, or even to be tackled by a security guard, not this mountain of a man looking at me like I’m there to follow his orders.
And how is he better looking in person than he is in a professional headshot?
I keep my hands on my hips so he can’t see how badly they’re shaking. What the hell was I thinking? I feel like the walls are closing in around me.
His workplace is nothing like I expected, either. I thought it would be dark and gloomy like the nightclubs he runs, but this is an executive suite. There’s a slide deck on the TV screen, and he’s sitting there in an expensive suit like he owns the world.
I fight the urge to turn around and walk out. What is with that stare? I swear I’ve never seen eyes quite like his before. They are insanely blue, like a tropical lagoon or a sapphire.
And why am I unable to look away from him?
“Did you hear me?” he asks. His voice is low and gruff, and there is no discernible expression on his face. In my mind’s eye, I can see myself standing before him like a deer in the headlights, looking just as terrified as I feel, trying to match his overwhelming dominance.
“Yes, I heard you,” I say, standing up a little straighter. “You haven’t even seen my ass yet, so you can’t possibly know that it’s perfect.”
He doesn’t smile. His eyebrow twitching is the only outward sign that he’s even heard me.
“You’re from Sterling House?” he asks.
“I am.”
“Then I ask again, why should I not sue them for breach of contract? I specifically asked them to be discreet, and you’ve just marched in here like a hooker demanding—”
“Excuse me?” I growl, taking a step toward him. “If I’m a hooker, I’m the best hooker you’ve ever seen, asshole. And if your security is so lax that I can just walk in here without an appointment, that’s your problem, not mine.”
There’s something in his eyes that shimmers now, like a beast awakening in the dark. He sits forward, buttoning up his jacket as he rises from his chair.
“Is that right?” he asks. “You’ve got a mouth on you; I’ll give you that. Not only has Pippa sent someone presumptuous and rude, but you’re also the opposite of what I asked for.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, seething at the audacity. “Well, what did you ask for?”
“You don’t know?” he murmurs and reaches into his pocket. “I think I’ll have a little chat with Pippa before we move any further with this discussion.”
My blood pounds in my ears as he pulls out his phone.
Fuck. Is he going to call her right now?
Panic shudders up my spine, and the trembling begins to spread through my whole body. Yet again, I’ve let my mouth run the show, and I’m fucking this up.
Scott got home last night, and showed me the texts he’d received over the past few days.
Whoever this Nick Monroe is, he’s a piece of work.
The language he used in the messages was more violent and pointed than I’d ever read, and it chilled me to the bone to think of anyone like that being associated with my brother.
And now I’ve screwed up our only chance of getting the money he needs. Again.
I watch Gray Jones hit call, the screen changing as the name Sterling House appears at the top.
There’s no way Pippa will vouch for me; she’ll delight in telling him I’ve walked in here without permission, and I’ll be thrown out onto the sidewalk like the trash he thinks I am.
Desperate, with nowhere else to turn, I take off my jacket and toss it on the back of a chair. Then I raise my trembling hands to the hem of my dress and start pulling it up my body. As soon as I begin, I feel Jones’ eyes move to me, not to my face, but to my hands.
I can hear the muffled ringing coming through the phone. No one has picked up yet. I have ten seconds, maybe less.
I shed my dress completely and I’m now standing in my underwear in front of him, staring him down, like I have a right to be there.
Those gorgeous blue eyes are fixed on my tits. I know I look hot. I wore the most expensive lingerie set I own, having no clue what would be expected of me, when I set out on this crazy crusade, but I send up a prayer of thanks as he takes the phone away from his ear.
It’s so quiet I can hear his quickening breaths.
Is the door behind me ordinary glass or the translucent kind that you can’t see through? I can’t remember. Fuck.
I imagine the entire office and all the execs he just shooed out of the room staring in horror at the stiletto heels and red lace panties I’m wearing.
His eyes move over me very slowly, very deliberately, and it’s as good as a caress. I have to admit I’m not used to someone looking so cold and switched off while they assess my naked body. It’s… disconcerting.
“You think I haven’t seen a pretty woman or two in my time?” he asks. But he also puts away his phone and returns to his chair. The new position gives me a full view of his crotch, and a little zing of triumph passes through me as he crosses his legs.
“Tell that to the tripod you’re sporting,” I say, looking down at his obvious hard-on.
He’s completely unabashed. “Turn around.”
I do, without thinking, and that’s new, too. I don’t do what guys tell me; it’s the other way around. I clench my fists, turning on the spot, wondering what it is about this man that makes me so self-conscious.
Once I’m facing him again, his expression is a little less impassive, and his eyes have darkened in the soft lighting from the ceiling.
“I was right,” he says. It’s a phrase I can imagine coming out of his mouth often. “You do have a perfect ass.”
I stay still, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Other than storming in here and demanding to talk to him, I had no plan. I certainly didn’t expect to be in my underwear at this point, but that’s on me. Now, I’m at a bit of a loss.
It’s unnerving standing half naked with a man who looks as if this happens to him every other day. How many women must he have fucked in his time as a CEO? He’s hot, rich, and connected. He must get women falling over themselves for him.
The question rises in my head again. Why does a man like this need an escort?
“Seeing as you’re from Sterling House,” he says, managing to inject just the right amount of skepticism into his voice. “You can blow me to prove your credentials.”
Again, there’s a pull in my gut so strong I have to fight against it. It’s a feeling that I’ve never experienced before. I just want to do what he says without question.
What the hell?
“Not until I’m under contract,” I say sharply, wanting to get dressed again but worrying I’ll lose the ground I’ve covered if I do. “I’ve got a long list of clients waiting to fuck me,” I add confidently.
I expect him to say something like, ‘I can well believe it,’ or look me up and down and order me to blow him again. But instead, he stays utterly still, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my throat tighten.
A pulse of heat throbs between my legs, and I swallow. I don’t remember ever being this confused and turned on at the same time.
“Alright, Jacqueline,” he says slowly.
“Jax.”
“Send over the contract. I’ll give you a trial day. If you’re not going to fulfill any of your obligations right now, you can leave and tell everyone outside to come back in while you’re at it. Then you need to report to my office.”
He pulls his chair toward the desk, hiding any evidence of what has just passed between us.
“Might be worth putting your clothes on before you go out there, though,” he says, and there’s a glint of amusement in his eye, but his mouth remains in a hard, unyielding line.
I bend down to pick up my skirt.
“Turn around while you do it. I want to inspect that ass again.”
I actually blush at that. No guy I’ve ever been with has ordered me around this way, and I wasn’t expecting him to do it after three minutes of meeting me.
I turn around and bend over, giving him the show he wants, and I feel satisfied when he sucks in an audible breath.
Once my clothes are back on, I look over my shoulder at him, and he gives me a nod.
Did I just ask permission to leave? What the fuck is wrong with me?
I march out the door and close it behind me, trying to look as put-together as possible. My eyes meet those of the only other woman on the exec team. The men standing around her seem pissed as hell, but most of them look me over too, as if they can’t quite help themselves.
“You can go back in now.”
That’s all I say, and then I walk away, with no clue where Jones’s office is, or what I’m meant to be doing, but by god, I am going to find out.