Chapter 12 The Shadow #2
“Well, boss,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable, “that was fun. Shall we pencil in the next dramatic showdown for, say, midnight? I’ve got some free time.”
I didn’t respond immediately, my sharp gaze fixed on him.
Jareth was astute—too astute, sometimes.
For all his irreverence, he saw things others didn’t, which made him dangerous.
But it also made him useful. Trust was a commodity I didn’t deal in lightly, but Jareth had earned enough of it to be brought in on certain matters.
The question was how far I could extend that trust before it turned into a liability.
“Sit down,” I ordered, gesturing to the chair across from my desk.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not about to fire me, are you? Because I’ve got a lot of vacation days saved up, and I’d hate to waste them.”
“Sit,” I repeated, the edge in my tone sharp enough to slice through his sarcasm.
With an exaggerated sigh, Jareth pushed off the bookshelf and dropped into the chair, sprawling like it was a throne. He leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Fine. But if this is an intervention about my humor, I should warn you, I’m a lost cause.”
I ignored the quip, leaning forward and resting my forearms on the desk. My fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished wood, the sound grounding me as I measured my words.
“What I’m about to tell you stays between us. Understood?”
The smirk didn’t falter, but his posture shifted slightly. “Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up two fingers in a mock salute.
I didn’t dignify the remark with a response. “Vivian is here because I saved her life. She was about to be executed. I intervened.”
Jareth’s face went carefully blank. His tone remained light, though the gleam in his eyes was sharper now. “Well, aren’t you the hero? I didn’t know we were in the damsel-rescuing business these days.”
My jaw tightened, but I forced myself to remain composed. Rising to his bait would only give him more ammunition. “In return, she’s going to marry me.”
That got his attention. His eyebrows shot up, and for a rare moment, he was silent. It didn’t last long.
“Oh, shit. A forced marriage? You’re really leaning into the villain aesthetic, huh? All you need now is a tower and a dragon.”
“It’s not forced,” I snapped, though even I could hear the edge of doubt in my voice. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“Uh-huh,” Jareth drawled, the grin returning. “And I’m sure she sees it that way. Let me guess—she fell at your feet in gratitude the moment you told her the plan?”
My glare sharpened, but he didn’t flinch. That was the thing about Jareth. His irreverence was maddening, but it came with a keen sense of observation that made him invaluable. He could see through bullshit better than most, and he wasn’t afraid to call it out.
“This alliance is critical,” I said coldly. “Altair won’t hand over his territory unless I am married. It’s a means to an end.”
Jareth tilted his head, his expression still infuriatingly amused. “Ah, so this isn’t about true love? Color me shocked. You’re really selling the romance angle here, boss.”
I exhaled sharply, the sound more forceful than I intended. “This isn’t about romance. It’s strategic. Altair’s territory is key to securing the region. Vivian is part of that equation.”
“And what about Vivian?” Jareth asked, his tone softening just enough to give the question weight. “What happens to her once the ink is dry on this grand alliance of yours?”
“She’ll be taken care of.” The words felt hollow even as I spoke them. I hadn’t allowed myself to think beyond the immediate goal, and Jareth’s question stirred an uncomfortable flicker of doubt.
He studied me for a long moment, his eyes sharp and assessing. “You’re not telling me everything, are you?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, showing a rare crack in my icy exterior. “You’re lucky I tolerate you.”
“Tolerate me?” He stood and stretched his arms above his head. “Come on, boss. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to your dreary existence.”
My glare was icy enough to freeze lesser men. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“Too late,” Jareth said with a wink as he headed for the door. “Don’t worry, your little secret is safe with me. But I’m going to need an invite to this wedding. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I can’t wait to see your idea of romance in action.”
The door clicked shut behind him. I leaned back in my chair, steepling my fingers under my chin as I stared into the middle distance.
Jareth was sharp—sharper than I liked sometimes—but that was what made him indispensable. For now, I needed him, irreverence and all. But trust was a slippery thing. Even the best weapons had to be handled carefully, and Jareth was no exception.
I leaned against the doorframe, my patience wearing thin with every tick of my watch. Thirty goddamn minutes. How long could it possibly take one woman to get ready? I wasn’t accustomed to waiting for anyone, least of all a woman who seemed to make it her life’s mission to defy me at every turn.
Yet here I was. Waiting.
My fingers tapped against the gold band of my watch, each beat echoing louder in the silence. I told myself it this was nothing more than irritation at her defiance and audacity to make me linger outside her door.
But it was more than that.
The creak of the bathroom door snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts.
I raised my head, my pulse quickening despite myself.
Vivian stepped out, her glasses perched on her nose, arms crossed over her chest in that defensive stance she always used, as though she could ward off my presence with sheer force of will.
Her dark eyes locked onto mine, sharp and defiant, a challenge simmering in them. “Where to?” she asked, her flat tone laced with deliberate disinterest.
I pushed off the doorframe, straightening to my full height. “Follow me.”
She sighed dramatically, but she followed, trudging along behind me.
The mansion was quiet this morning. Sunlight filtered through the towering windows and cast golden streaks over the polished wood and marble. The stillness should have been calming, but her presence electrified the air, sharpening my senses in a way that was both exhilarating and infuriating.
Finally, we arrived at a set of double doors. I pushed them open and stepped inside without waiting for her reaction.
The room was awash with natural light. Sheer curtains framed the large windows.
Mirrors lined one wall, reflecting the golden glow and amplifying the space’s elegance.
The polished wood floors gleamed like glass, and the air was infused with the faint scent of lavender from a vase of fresh flowers in the corner.
“What is this place?” she asked, her voice tinged with cautious curiosity.
“It’s been used for different things over the years. Dance rehearsals. Private gatherings. Today, it’s a fitting room.”
Her brows knit together in confusion until I whipped a drop sheet off a rack of wedding dresses. The pristine white fabric shimmered in the sunlight.
She stared at the dresses, her lips twitching as though she were suppressing laughter. Then, it erupted—sharp, incredulous, and grating.
“You expect me to try those on?” she scoffed, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “And you want me to wear a white wedding dress? Don’t you think black would be more appropriate?”
“Shut the fuck up and get undressed,” I snapped, my patience already balancing on a knife’s edge.
Her laughter cut off, replaced by a glare so icy it could’ve frozen the sunlight. “You’re joking,” she said, though her tone betrayed her uncertainty.
“Do I look like I’m joking?” I dragged a chair into the center of the room and dropped into it, crossing one leg over the other with deliberate ease. My posture was casual, but inside, my pulse pounded in anticipation. “You’re going to try on each one. I’m picking your dress.”
She stared at me, her jaw tightening. For a moment, I thought she’d refuse. But then, with a defiant lift of her chin, she stepped closer.
Stopping just a few feet away, she slipped her glasses off and held them out. “Here,” she said flatly.
Our fingers brushed as I took them, and a spark shot up my arm, hot and unwelcome. She didn’t look away, her gaze burning into me before her hands slipped to the hem of her shirt.
I sucked in a breath as she began to inch it up slowly.
Fuck.
The fabric rose, revealing smooth, pale skin and the curve of her black bra.
My throat went dry, my body tightening with a visceral need I had no business feeling.
I forced my gaze to the floor, fixing on a knot in the wood grain.
But when the shirt hit the floor and she reached for the waistband of her shorts, I couldn’t stop my eyes from darting back to her.
The tiny black thong. The long legs. The perfect curve of her hips.
I shifted in my chair, my hands curling into fists on the armrest. Control. I needed to maintain control.
“Try the first one on,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
Vivian grabbed the strapless gown and shimmied into it with a muttered curse. She turned, her arms spread wide in mockery, her lips curved into a sarcastic smile.
“Does this do it for you?”
I leaned back, narrowing my eyes. “Nah. Next.”
The second dress barely made it over her shoulders before I dismissed it. “I hate it. Take it off.”
Her glare could’ve melted steel, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she peeled the dress off with an exaggerated slowness that felt like a deliberate taunt.
By the time she reached the third dress, a lace creation with delicate cap sleeves, my composure was hanging on by a thread. Her fingers fumbled with the zipper.
“Turn around,” I said, standing before I could think better of it.
She obeyed, albeit hesitantly. My fingers brushed the warm skin of her back as I grasped the zipper, tugging it upward. Goosebumps erupted across her skin, and I froze, my throat tightening.
The scent of her—soft vanilla with an edge of seduction—wrapped around me, intoxicating me. I glanced up, meeting her gaze in the mirror. Her dark eyes held mine, wide and unguarded, for a fleeting moment.
“It’s perfect,” I said gruffly, stepping back quickly. I needed distance, space to regain the control she was so effortlessly stripping from me. “This is the dress.”
Her eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing.
I turned toward the door, ready to escape before I did something I’d regret. But a thought struck me, and I paused.
“I’ll give you access to some of your equipment,” I said, glancing over my shoulder.
Her brows knitted in surprise. “Why?”
“Curiosity,” I admitted. “What’s this big project you’re working on?”
Her defiance returned like a storm cloud. “None of your damn business.”
A slow smirk tugged at my lips. “We’ll see about that.”
Our fingers brushed again as I handed her glasses back, and I felt that zing travel up my arm again. With one last glance at her, I left the room without another word.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to the back of my neck.
Vivian was getting under my skin in a way I could not tolerate. This woman was going to be the death of me. And only I had the power to prevent my own funeral.