Jack's Devotion

Chapter Five

Jack

" I 'm bringing someone to dinner with me tonight."

Drake laughs for so loud and so long, I pull the phone away from my ear to scowl at it. When I put it back, he's still laughing.

"I'm serious, motherfucker," I growl. "And I expect you to be on your best behavior."

His laughter dries up. "Who the fuck are you bringing, Jack? I swear to God, if you say the ghost from your pool house…"

"Well, actually…"

"Jesus Christ. Madeline! Jack has lost his mind. He's finally gone completely around the bend. Do you still have the number for that witch doctor?"

"Witch doctor? What the ever-living fuck?"

"She met him at a party. He's a psychiatrist. It's a long story. Don't ask," he mutters. "You know how this town is. You grew up here. That's beside the point. What the fuck is going on with you?"

"Nothing. She isn't a ghost."

"That is not what you said."

"You didn't let me finish what I was trying to say before you started shouting for the number for a witch doctor, you asshole."

"It was a costume, Jack. A costume . The man is a psychiatrist."

"Which I don't need." I rub my temples. "You're giving me high blood pressure now."

"Happy to return the favor," Drake says, a smile in his voice. "Who are you bringing to dinner?"

"Ah, I can't tell you." I trust my employees, but with gossip like the return of Madison Laurent? Well, there are very few people I trust with that kind of information. Word spreads like a fucking flu in this town. The last thing Madison needs is for one of my people to overhear me talking about her to Drake and the whole goddamn town to know she's back and living with me.

"Why the fuck not?"

"You'll understand when we get there."

"That doesn't sound ominous at all."

"It isn't. Just trust me. You'll love her. She's going to be the mother of my children."

"You are not making me want to call the psychiatrist any less," he mutters, his tone bleak.

I chuckle, leaning back in my chair to stare out of the window. From my office, I can see all of Silver Spoon Falls. Downtown is as busy and beautiful as ever. "I told you to trust me, little bro. It'll all make sense when we get there."

"If you say so. I'm putting the fucking shrink's number on speed dial though. Just in case."

I roll my eyes but let him have his fun. As soon as we get there, he'll understand. He may spend less time out and about than I do, but it's impossible to live around here and not know about Madison. Her posters are everywhere. Her asshole father stopped putting them up years ago, but Dillon isn't her dad. He still makes a point to ensure they get hung up every year. He still looks for her.

And Drake knows me better than anyone. He never asked a single question when I made that donation after she went missing. Just like he never asked why I drank myself into a stupor after that party. He didn't have to ask. He fucking knew. Just like I'm sure, on some level, he knows that all my bullshit about not being made for marriage and family is just that—bullshit.

I bury myself in work and drive everyone batshit crazy and have for years because what the fuck else was I supposed to do? For one brief moment in time, I met the person I was never able to get out of my head. And I didn't do a goddamn thing about it because she was too young. And then she disappeared.

I figured that was my sign that marriage and family weren't meant for me. Love wasn't in the cards. Turns out…it's been out there the entire time. Hiding. Afraid to come home.

I'm mad as hell about that. Not at her. At myself. At fate. At the last seven years. Maybe we needed them. I don't fucking know. But I don't like them.

She should have been here. She should have been safe.

And she wasn't.

For seven damn years, she was out there alone.

I am not okay with that.

I can't rail at fate though. I can't kick the shit out of the past.

But I can wrap my hands around Gerald Laurent's neck and squeeze until he's gasping for breath. Nothing about that sounds like a bad time to me. If he ends up even half as afraid as I'm sure she was hearing him plotting to have her killed, then helping her haunt the living shit out of him will be worth it.

"Don't tell anyone that I'm bringing anyone," I warn Drake. "This isn't me being weird and secretive. This is me being dead serious. It's important. No one can know about her right now."

He's quiet for a long moment, and then he sighs. "I swear to God, Jack, if she's in the mafia, I'm killing you myself."

"The mafia? What the fuck?"

"My wife is reading again," he grumbles like this is a bad thing.

"So?"

"She thinks audiobooks count as reading, motherfucker. If I have to listen to one more sex scene blaring across this mansion at full volume while she's cleaning…"

"You know she's taunting you, right?" I laugh at him. Maybe he needs to spend more time at the coffee shop if he doesn't know this. I've learned all kinds of useful shit from the book club meetings there. "Take the broom away and recreate whatever the fuck scene she's listening to."

He's quiet for a full five count. "Dinner is at eight tonight, not seven," he growls. "Do not come early."

I hang up, shaking my head. My brother is an idiot.

"Are you nervous?" I glance over at Madison to find her fidgeting with her seat belt as we drive through downtown Midnight Falls.

"What? No," she lies, orange Jack-o-Lanterns dancing across her face from the lights strung up all across town.

"Drake won't bite, baby," I murmur. "He's a cranky asshole most of the time, but he's one of the best men you'll ever meet."

"I've met him."

I arch a brow, surprised.

"He was at your Christmas party. We both hid out in the stairwell for a while." She shrugs. "He doesn't say much."

"Oh, he says plenty," I say dryly, chuckling. "He just wouldn't have said it to you."

"Why not?"

"Drake doesn't talk to most people. He was bullied pretty viciously when he was younger. He dealt by shutting down and shutting everyone out." I sigh, still not entirely over the way all of that shit went down. "It was a long goddamn time ago, but it still bugs the fuck out of me, not even going to lie."

"What happened?" Madison asks and then bites her lip. "Am I allowed to ask that?"

"It's a long story," I mutter. "But he was dared to do something stupid when we were kids, and he got hurt in the process. Everyone forgot the part where he could have died, though. They just remembered him being wheeled out covered in his own urine."

"Oh no," Madison whispers, her face falling.

"It changed the entire trajectory of his life. Hell, it changed mine too. I was expected to play college ball, but after that shit? All I wanted was to get him the fuck out of town, give him a chance to start fresh."

"Is that why you started your first company?"

I jerk my chin in a nod. "A few years after we left, I realized that wasn't helping anything. We made millions, but all he was doing was running from his problems. He spent all of his time holed up in his apartment, refusing to interact with anyone. So I dragged him back home. By then, everyone regretted the shit they'd done to him as kids. Drake didn't want to hear their apologies though. He just shut himself up in the mansion and ignored everyone."

"It's easy for people to forget what they said. It's a lot harder to forget the way they made you feel."

"Yeah. Meeting his wife changed things. For once, he's actually living. He leaves his place willingly. He interacts with people on his own. He holds conversations with people. It's night and day to how it used to be." I glance over at her again. "But when you met him, we hadn't been back for long. He didn't talk to anyone back then."

"He wasn't mean to me," she promises quickly. "We just quietly shared the stairwell." Her lips curve into a smile. "He was grumbling about wearing a suit and stupid parties."

"Well, that hasn't changed much."

She laughs quietly. "He looked handsome in his suit at your stupid party."

A growl rumbles from my lips without conscious thought, jealousy pinging through me.

Another peal of laughter erupts from her lips. "Oh my gosh. Are you jealous right now, Jack?"

"No. Yes. No." I narrow my eyes on her as I turn onto Drake's road. "He's an idiot who wears underwear with inappropriate sayings on them. And he probably has a dungeon in the basement. You don't want anything to do with him, baby. Trust me."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You absolutely should."

Her smile grows as she settles back in her seat, shaking her head at me.

What? Nothing I said was a lie. Drake will understand. All is fair in love and war. Thank God he's married. I'd really hate to have to kill the big bastard.

"I looked up your father today."

Madison tenses beside me.

"He's called a press conference on your birthday."

"I know," she whispers. "He's planning to announce that they're going to have me declared deceased."

I nod grimly. "That's what I thought. I assume you have a plan?"

"Yes. I plan to crash it." She peeks over at me, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "If the whole world sees me alive and well at the conference, he can't convince a judge that I died."

"You need to preempt him, baby."

"Why?"

"Because you disappeared on your birthday. If you wait until his press conference, he may already have the paperwork filed. We'll call one for the day before," I murmur, reaching for her hand when she flinches, paling as if she hadn't thought about that. "You can announce to the world that you're very much alive and that you disappeared for your own safety."

"What if he finds out about it? If he kills me before my birthday…"

"He isn't killing you," I growl. Hell no. That isn't even an option on the goddamn menu. "And if you're really worried about default ownership of your money and company going to him, marry me."

Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. "W-what?"

"I don't need your money or your company. I've got plenty of my own. If you're married, it'll muddy the waters enough to keep ownership from automatically passing to him. And I guarantee I've got enough goddamn money to keep a legal fight going long enough to bankrupt him."

She pulls her hand from mine to fan her face. "Is this what passing out feels like? It is, isn't it?" she mumbles.

"Breathe, baby." I squeeze her neck gently. "You're okay."

"You just casually offered to marry me to protect my company, Jack," she whisper-shouts. "I am not okay! I'm not even in the same universe as okay!"

I chuckle, pulling into Drake's driveway and then stopping. We're still a good half a mile from the house, but whatever. This is important. I turn to face her, cupping her cheeks in my palms. "The offer wasn't casual, Madison. I thought about it all day. I'm dead serious. It's the best way to protect your company until he's in prison."

"And then we can get a divorce?"

"Depends," I growl, seriously contemplating the merits of unlatching her seatbelt to turn her over my knee. Would Drake and Madeline hear her screaming for mercy from here?

"On what?"

"On whether you want to find out what it's like to be haunted by a pissed off, possessive billionaire." I glower at her. "Because the only goddamn way a marriage between us ends is if I'm dead. At which point, I will be haunting you for the rest of eternity."

"I…" She stares at me with her lips slightly parted for a long moment, and then her expression softens. "You say the most disturbing things, but somehow, they're oddly sweet at the same time. That should really be a marketable skill, you know."

I growl, yanking her toward me. My lips land against hers in a hard kiss. She doesn't fight me. Instead, she melts into me with a greedy little whimper that goes straight to my cock. Her hands slide into my hair, tugging as I devour her lips.

Divorce? Fuck no. Once my ring is on her finger, it stays there. Permanently. And I'll play dirty to get it there if that's what it takes. At this point, I'm willing to do just about anything. I need her on my cock, my kid in her belly, and my ring on her finger. The fact that I don't have any of the three has me feeling a little unhinged in the worst way.

I've never been an obedient little billionaire. I've always done what the fuck I want, when I want. I drive people up the wall and don't give two shits what anyone thinks. I am who I am. If anyone doesn't like it, sucks for them. They can get fucked for all I care.

If this is too fast or insane or whatever descriptor they want to throw on it, so be it. But part of me has been missing her since she disappeared seven years ago. Part of me has regretted every goddamn minute of the last seven years. We weren't in the right place then. She was too damn young for me. I was too stupid. It's different now. Seven years different.

I'm not letting her go this time. I'm not moving slow this time. Fuck that noise.

"Jack," she whimpers, clinging to me.

"You can't say my name like that in my brother's driveway, baby," I groan, regretfully breaking the kiss. "He has cameras. He watches them. He isn't allowed to see you naked, riding my cock like a goddess. I'll have to kill him. Madeline will cry. It'll get ugly."

Her body shakes with laughter. "Then maybe you should stop kissing me."

"Is that you saying you want to get naked and ride my cock in his driveway? Because I'm willing to kill him," I offer.

"Jack? Shut up and drive," she says, smiling against my lips.

I kiss her again and then settle her back in her seat, eyeing her. Fuck. She looks thoroughly kissed and too damn beautiful.

Why did I agree to dinner with Drake?

Oh, right. Because I'm an idiot.

"Holy shit," he says not even five minutes later, his eyes narrowed on Madison. "I know you."

"Hi, Drake." She smiles at him sweetly, clinging to my hand like she's a little afraid he might bite. Honestly…he might. He's an oversized asshole.

He glances from her to me, one brow raised. "She's your ghost?"

"Told you that you'd understand when we got here," I mutter.

"Does her dad know she's back?"

"Fuck no. And he isn't going to know until we're damn good and ready."

Drake opens his mouth, probably to ask for an explanation, but his wife pops up, her cinnamon eyes bright. Brown ringlets frame her round face, though they're a little worse for wear, like usual. Madeline is not a tame woman. She's…frankly, she's a petite ball of light who takes no prisoners and has no shame.

"Jack! You're here!" She bounces forward to throw her arms around me.

"Hey, beautiful." I grin at my sister-in-law, kissing her cheek while Drake scowls at me over her head. Jealous asshole. "Madeline, I'd like you to meet Madison. Madison, this is my sister-in-law, Madeline."

"Maddy?" Madeline asks Madison, a laugh burbling from her lips.

"You too, huh?" Madison asks.

"Naturally." Madeline rolls her eyes. "I'll make you a deal. You don't call me Maddy, and I won't call you Maddy. We'll just be Madeline and Madison. Nicknames are hereby banished."

"I like this." Madison smiles at my sister-in-law.

"I don't," Drake grumbles.

"Me either."

"Too bad. No nicknames." Madeline sends a severe look at Drake, only for it to wobble before falling into a smile. "If you keep frowning like that, your face is going to get stuck, Drake."

"So you keep telling me, unicorn."

"That's a nickname."

"Fuck this rule already."

She pats him on the chest before looping her arm through Madison's to drag her inside. "They can pout out here. Let's go get you a glass of wine and you can tell me how you ended up in Jack's pool house."

"Behave!" Drake calls after them.

"Worry about yourself, Drake Whitlock!" Madeline shouts back at him, earning a soft laugh from Madison.

"So, he's as bossy as his brother, huh?" Madison asks as they disappear into the house.

"Jack is bossy? Since when?"

"Excellent question," Drake asks, turning to look at me with one brow arched.

"Don't start with me, motherfucker."

He smirks. "Madison Laurent, huh?"

"Yeah." I scrub a hand through my hair. "Told you that you'd understand when we got here."

"She was squatting in your pool house?"

"Yep."

"Any idea why?"

"Yeah. Her father wants her company and her inheritance. He's holding a press conference on her birthday to announce that he's having her declared dead."

"Jesus Christ," Drake mutters, his eyes wide. "So he doesn't know she's alive?"

"Oh, I'm sure he knows. He's the reason she disappeared."

"Maybe I need wine."

"You don't even drink wine."

"Might start if you keep talking in riddles. Maybe it'll improve my blood pressure."

"You haven't had high blood pressure a goddamn day in your life."

"Uh, wrong." He scowls at me. "You've been my brother since I was born. I've had high blood pressure my entire life."

"Man, fuck you." I chuckle. "I do not give you that much stress."

"Says you." He eyes me sideways. "You going to tell me what the fuck is going on without the riddles or do I need to pull out a whiteboard and fucking guess like this is Charades?"

"I'm kinda liking option two, honestly. Might be fun."

He scowls daggers at me, snorting in disgust.

I throw my head back, laughing, before I quickly fill him in on the situation. His eyes widen as I talk, shock and anger filtering through his expression. By the time I'm done, he's growling softly…which I appreciate. He's a solid motherfucker. Always has been.

"What do you need, Jack? How can I help?"

"I need to get ahold of Asa Steele," I mutter. "I need someone watching her father for the next few days. I'd ask Cormac Carmichael, but he's busy. And then I need to put together a press conference. Quietly. I don't want anyone to know it's about her or tied to her in any way until it's showtime."

"Madeline is pregnant."

My eyes widen. "Shit. Seriously?" I pull him into a hug, pounding him on the back. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks, brother. I didn't tell you for the congrats, though. I told you because you can use it as cover for the press conference. Float that we're calling the conference to announce changes to the company because my wife is pregnant."

"You're ready to tell everyone?"

"I was ready as soon as the test came back positive." He grins at me, happy in a way I don't think he's ever been. "She decided we needed to tell you first because you're family or some bullshit like that."

"Shit. Is that what dinner is about tonight?"

"Yeah, and you tried to skip it."

"Fuck." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm an asshole."

"Yep. You are." He grins at me. "But we already knew that."

"Dick."

His grin grows before he sobers. "Use it as cover."

"We need her father at the conference."

"Suggest my spot on the board is available." Drake's lip curls. "You know he'll fall all over his goddamn self kissing your ass for that spot. Tell him that you'll announce it at the press conference. He'll show up just to be seen next to you."

"That's…actually genius," I mutter, impressed. Drake has always been smart as hell. People tend to forget there are two geniuses in this family because he keeps to himself and doesn't make waves. But shit. Most days, he's a helluva lot smarter than I am. I'm just the one everyone sees.

"How are you going to keep her safe?"

"I'm marrying her."

"Obviously." He rolls his eyes. "Think that shit would have happened years ago if she…" He breaks off, shaking his head. "Why didn't she come to you?"

"She didn't know," I say quietly, staring at the ground. "Hell, I'm not even sure I knew. She was just a beautiful little angel I couldn't get off my mind."

"You knew." He clasps my shoulder, squeezing gently. "You didn't want to believe it because that's the kind of guy you are, but you knew."

"Yeah, maybe." I scrub a hand down my face, sighing. "It was fucked up, brother."

"Why? Because of her age?"

I jerk my chin in a nod. "She was still seventeen when we met."

"You can't help feeling connected to people, Jack. That shit happens whether we want it to or not. It would have been fucked up if you'd done anything about it. You didn't. You walked away because it was the right thing to do. You didn't act on it. You were never inappropriate. You walked away the way you were supposed to walk away," he murmurs. "Now, you've got another chance, one where shit like that doesn't matter. She's what? Twenty-five now?"

"Twenty-four. Her birthday is the 3 rd ."

"Same difference. The point is, everything is different now. You've held onto her memory for seven years. I'm guessing she picked your pool house for a similar reason. That's important. Doesn't matter what anyone else has to say about it or what didn't happen back then because it didn't happen. What matters is how the two of you feel and what you do about it now . Life is too goddamn short, Jack. Don't waste it."

"Uh, you missed the part where I said I was marrying her, didn't you?"

"No, I heard it. I'm just making sure you hear me."

"Oh, I hear you." I stare at him, shaking my head. "Frankly, I'm just trying to figure out how the fuck we ended up here, with you giving me advice about life being short, and me talking about marriage."

"We had nothing to do with it," he mutters ruefully, scratching his beard. "We aren't that goddamn smart. It was all them."

I laugh quietly. He's probably right about that.