9. Aliyah
ALIYAH
The morning sun streams through my kitchen window as I measure coffee grounds, the rich aroma filling my modern apartment.
My diamond tennis bracelet catches the light, reminding me of last night at Jackson's side.
These morning routines have always helped ground me after the chaos of my double life, and this morning is no different.
Needing to get out of my own head, I pick up my phone and dial on instinct. I know that Naya is busy, but I miss her. Even if I can't really tell her what's going on. I just need that touch of normalcy.
"Hello?" Her voice carries that familiar warmth that makes lying to her even harder.
"I thought you were going to call more!" I inject accusation into my tone, masking my guilt.
"I know. I'm sorry. It's just been so busy. How have you been?"
I lean against my granite countertop, crafting the perfect deception.
If I'm not at my house for the foreseeable future, I'll need to get ahead of that.
"Girl, you won't believe the man I met." The lie flows easily.
"He takes me to these insane places. And the sex-" I fake a dreamy sigh.
It's what she would expect from me. "It's incredible. "
Her laugh carries through the phone. "Tell me everything."
"His name's Jackson. Real mysterious type, you know how I like them." I force a giggle while playing with my necklace. "But enough about me. How's staying with your aunt treating you?"
"It's... different. Lots of rules." The stiffness in her voice makes my chest ache.
"Well, maybe it's for the best that you're taking time off from the hospital right now. Things are getting weird." I'm sure she's heard, but I need to make sure that she's safe.
"Weird how?"
I pace my kitchen, bare feet silent against the tile.
"Remember Isabella?" Before I Janelle got with Cole, she lived with Isabella, a nurse at Naya's hospital.
"She's missing, and she's not the only one who's vanished.
Three more nurses have gone this month. And get this - patients are dying from what should be routine procedures. Administration's freaking out."
It takes Naya a few seconds to answer, and when she does, she sounds distant. "That's... concerning."
"And there's all these whispers about private medical companies getting involved in shady stuff. Like, serious criminal enterprise level stuff. This girl I know, Lisa who works in radiology, swears she saw men in suits taking files from the records room at midnight."
Heavy footsteps in the hallway make me freeze. "You're better off away from all that mess," I rush out, making sure she gets the message. I need her safe. "Though I miss our wine nights something fierce."
"Me too." Her voice cracks.
Jackson's shadow falls across my threshold. "I gotta run, girl. Jackson's gonna be here soon." I force brightness into my voice. I don't want her to worry about me, though she's acting so weird, especially when she suddenly disappeared from the city and hardly talks to me. "Call me soon, okay?"
"I will. Love you."
"Love you too." I end the call just as Jackson enters, his imposing frame filling my kitchen doorway. His dark eyes zero in on my face, catching the distress I can't quite hide.
Jackson steps closer, his movement predatory yet somehow hesitant. "Something wrong?" But it doesn't sound like a question - a statement delivered in that low, commanding voice that usually makes me want to stab him with my stilettos.
If only they weren't all upstairs.
I twist my necklace pendant, buying time. "Nothing's wrong, tough guy. Just a call with a friend."
His dark eyes narrow. He reaches out, catching my fidgeting hand in his. The touch sends electricity through my skin. "You're playing with your necklace. You only do that when you're plotting or worried."
"Been studying my tells?" I try to inject venom into my voice, but it comes out shakier than intended.
"I study everything." His thumb traces circles on my wrist, the gentle motion at odds with his intimidating presence. "Talk to me."
Maybe it's the unexpected tenderness. Maybe it's the weight of secrets pressing down on my chest. Or maybe I'm just tired of pretending everything's fine. The words spill out before I can stop them.
"It's my best friend, Naya. We met in college, and we've been inseparable ever since.
Weekly wine nights, emergency ice cream runs at 2 AM, the whole deal.
" I pull away from his touch, needing distance to think clearly.
"But lately... she's different. She suddenly left the city for some work conference - that she usually tried to get out of - and now she's staying with some aunt I've never heard of before.
She barely talks to me anymore, and when she does...
" I shake my head. "It's like talking to a stranger wearing my best friend's voice. "
Jackson's jaw tightens. "When did this start?"
"Couple weeks ago." I cross my arms, hating how vulnerable I feel. "I know something's wrong. She's the responsible one, the steady one, and everything feels off. She's-" My voice cracks. "She's family."
"Angel." The nickname holds none of its usual mockery. Jackson steps closer, and I hate how safe it feels in his shadow. "You really care about her."
"Don't sound so surprised." I lift my chin. "Some of us actually know how to maintain relationships that don't involve threats or violence."
His lips quirk. "Says the woman who threatened to poison my coffee yesterday."
"I didn't say all my relationships were without threats." I roll my eyes, but it doesn't help much when it comes to my concern over Naya.
"I'll look into it." Jackson's words slice through my internal spiral. His expression shifts - subtle, a microsecond tell that most would miss. But I've made a career of reading people's secrets in their eyes, and his dark ones just betrayed him.
He knows something.
My fingers itch to grab my necklace, to fidget with the hidden SD card that's captured so many devastating secrets. Instead, I force myself still. "Just like that? You'll help?"
"You think I won't?" He moves closer, backing me against the counter. His cologne - expensive, masculine - fills my senses. "Despite what you believe, angel, I'm not actually the devil."
"Could've fooled me." But the bite in my words lacks its usual venom.
His hand comes up, fingers grazing my jaw. The touch burns. "I'll make sure she's safe."
The way he says it - like a promise already fulfilled - confirms my suspicion.
My heart pounds against my ribs, but not from fear.
What terrifies me is how much I want to trust him.
How natural it feels to lean into his touch, to believe that this dangerous man who's essentially holding me captive will protect someone I love.
"Why?" I whisper.
His thumb traces my lower lip, and my breath catches. "Because contrary to popular belief, I do know how to maintain relationships that don't involve threats or violence." He throws my words back at me with a dangerous smirk. "Though the threats and violence are always an option."
"You're not funny."
"I'm hilarious." His eyes darken as they track my reaction. "Let me handle this, Aliyah."
The use of my actual name instead of 'angel' hits different. It feels intimate, weighted. I should argue, should demand answers about what he knows, should maintain the walls I've built so carefully. Instead, I find myself nodding.
His answering smile holds satisfaction and something else - something that makes my pulse skip. "Good girl."
The afternoon light fades as I descend the stairs, my bare feet silent against the polished wood. Jackson's voice drifts from his study - low, dangerous, the kind that makes smart people run the other way.
"If anything happens to her, I'll personally ensure you never breathe again." A pause. "I don't care. Keep. Her. Safe." He scoffs. "Fuck off. It's none of your business if it's personal or not. Just make sure she doesn't get hurt- Yes, I know she's your nurse."
My breath catches. He's talking about Naya. Actually following through on his promise from this morning.
I move down the hall until I'm in front of his open office.
I lean against the doorframe, watching him glare at the space before him like the offender on the other end of the phone is standing before him.
His dress shirt stretches across broad shoulders, sleeves rolled to expose muscular forearms. The scar on his left arm catches the dying light.
He turns, dark eyes finding mine instantly. Slowly, his gaze peruses me, and I'm glad I put on this tight little dress before coming down. We might hate each other, but we are definitely attracted to one another.
"Stop being an ass," he snaps, and then ends the conversation, setting his phone on his desk.
"Dinner?" I ask, pretending I didn't just hear him threaten someone's life on my behalf.
He nods, following me to the dining room where his housekeeper has laid out an impressive spread. The silence between us feels different - charged but not hostile. No barbed comments about my cooking skills or his control issues.
I reach for the wine bottle just as Jackson does. Our fingers brush. Electric current zips up my arm, but I don't pull away. Neither does he. His skin is warm, calloused - a killer's hands that somehow feel gentle against mine.
We stay frozen for a heartbeat too long before he wraps his fingers around the bottle, pouring deep red wine into both our glasses. The liquid catches the light like blood.
We eat without speaking. The quiet should feel awkward, but it doesn't. It feels... peaceful. Dangerous. Like the calm before a storm that might destroy us both.
I steal glances at him between bites. The way his jaw clenches when he thinks. How his eyes drift to me when he thinks I'm not looking. The predatory grace in every movement.
He catches me staring and raises an eyebrow. I don't look away.
Something has shifted between us. The air feels thick with possibility and warning. But neither of us acknowledges it, continuing our meal in this strange new silence that feels more intimate than any words.