Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Fucking beautiful. That’s the only thought going through my head right now. The woman in front of me, the one currently aiming the barrel of a gun right at my head, is fucking beautiful. Probably not the thing I should be focusing on when my life is being threatened.
Jazzy has stormed into my office wearing the same yellow sundress she wore when she met up with Brad.
Her long, brown hair hangs loose down her back and her face is fucking flawless as ever.
Her eyes—those big, round, brown eyes with flecks of gold that have always held so much joy for life in them—seem duller somehow.
I’m not seeing that same spark. Something has changed.
I smile, knowing it only pisses her off more. “You’re wrong. I know you better than you know yourself, Jazzy. If you wanted to shoot me, you would have already. So why don’t you put the gun away and sit down.”
She scowls at me, and I fight the urge to laugh. I don’t care who she put at the bottom of the East River. I couldn’t care less how many bodies she buries. Because I know this woman loves me in a way that’s inexplainable. The same way I’ve always loved her.
“I’m not sitting down, and you are going to stop keeping tabs on me or whatever stalkerish bullshit it is you’re doing,” she huffs.
“Your treehouse,” I tell her.
“What?”
“That treehouse your dad built for you. The first time I was over, we went in it. We were ten. We pinkie promised there’d never be any secrets between us. I’m not stalking you. I’m keeping that promise,” I tell her.
“You have to be fucking kidding me!” she screams. But her arm lowers in frustration, the gun now resting at her side.
“Put the fucking gun away, Jasmine. Or point it at me. I’m not having you accidentally shoot yourself,” I grunt.
“Careful, Jacob, or I might mistake your tone for concern.” She smiles.
I stand and walk around my desk. Jazzy doesn’t move. Not even when I stop just an inch in front of her. So fucking close. “You think I’m not concerned about you, Jazzy?” I ask.
“I think the only person you’re concerned about is yourself.” She smiles sweetly at me, and then I feel the barrel of the gun pressed against my dick. It instantly hardens.
Yeah, that’s not something I’m digging into right now.
“If you’re going to shoot me, then shoot me.
If not, then sit the fuck down and let’s have a conversation like adults,” I tell her.
“Because, I gotta be honest, Jazzy, you mad as hell like this? It’s turning me on.
So unless you want to end up spread over my desk with your ass in the air, stop threatening to kill me. ”
The gun presses harder against my dick. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? You want to have your filthy way with me, Jake? Fuck me until my knees buckle and my throat is coarse from screaming your name?”
I lift a shoulder, feigning boredom. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”
Jazzy steps backwards. “Too bad I’ve already sampled what you’re offering, and I gotta say…
I’ve had better.” She drops the gun into her bag and looks back up at me.
“Stop spying on me, or I won’t be the only Bianchi paying you a visit next time.
And need you forget, my father isn’t the type to issue warnings before he shoots. ”
“First, we were sixteen. My skills have improved. Immensely. And second, if you wanted your father to kill me, I’d already be dead. Stop pretending you hate me, Jasmine.”
“I don’t hate you, Jake. To hate, you have to feel. And I feel nothing for you. Absolutely nothing.” She turns to walk out the door.
I reach out and take hold of her wrist, stopping her. “Wait.”
Jazzy looks at her arm, and then her eyes travel back up to my face. “Let go of me,” she says.
“You can’t seriously just walk in here, threaten me, and walk out. We need to talk.”
“We don’t need to do shit. I have nothing else to say to you.” She jerks her arm free. “Don’t ever touch me without my permission again. The last guy who did that, well, let’s just say he can tell you what happened when you meet him in hell.”
I watch her walk out of my office, her head held high, the picture-perfect mafia princess that she is. I contemplate letting her go, but fuck that. She started this, and I’m not done. I catch up with her just as the doors to the elevator start to close. I slide between them.
Jazzy glares at me. We’re alone in the elevator. “There are cameras in here,” I warn her. “You know, if you did change your mind and decided to shoot me, you’ll want to have that footage erased.”
Instead of biting back, Jazzy turns her head and stabs a finger at the button for the garage when she realizes we aren’t actually moving.
“How’d you get up here?” I ask, just now realizing she wasn’t buzzed up.
With a sinister smile, she turns to face me again. “You’re an idiot. That’s how.”
“We’ve always known I was an idiot, but how did you get up here?”
“You haven’t changed the passcode you used when we were kids.” Her left shoulder lifts up and then drops. “Like I said, you’re an idiot.”
“Or maybe I left that code in the system on purpose, because I knew that you knew it. And if you ever wanted to, I don’t know, come and kill me or something, you could.
” It’s the truth. Not the killing me part.
But the security system has undergone multiple upgrades over the years, and I always make sure that, that passcode is still active.
“I’m going with the fact you’re an idiot,” she says.
My hand presses against the red emergency stop button on the wall. The cable car jolts, and I reach out and take hold of Jazzy, steadying her as I step closer and press her back against the wall.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I tilt my head to the side as I stare down at her. “Testing a theory,” I say before I lower my mouth to hers.
Jazzy gasps, her lips parting, and I take full advantage, pushing my tongue past them. For a blissful three seconds, I feel like I’ve come home. That is until I also feel teeth bite down, and the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth.
“What the fuck? Did you just bite my tongue?” I pull away from her.
Jasmine reaches around me and disengages the stop button. The elevator resumes its descent. “Try that again and I’ll make sure I bite it all the way off,” she hisses at me.
Her cheeks are flushed. Her chest heaving and her eyes glassed over. She can deny it all she likes, but I know she felt it too. That spark we’ve always had, the same one we both ignored until prom night. It’s still there.
My mouth opens to tell her as much when the doors open to the garage and she steps out. I follow, my eyes bouncing around the space.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath when I spot him. “Don’t say a fucking word,” I tell Jazzy, keeping my voice low.
She looks from me to Simon Carnegie, one of my father’s old associates and I guess now one of mine.
“Simon, I didn’t know you were stopping in today.” I give him an easy smile, one I’ve got well practiced.
“Jacob.” He nods at me and then turns his attention to Jasmine. I want to rip his eyes out of his damn head. “Miss Bianchi, I must say I am surprised to see you here.”
“Miss Bianchi is assisting Westmead on an acquisition. I heard she was in town and, well, only a fool wouldn’t take advantage of one of the country’s best analysts,” I tell him.
Jazzy looks up at me. Her lips form a tight line.
“You should remember I’m the best, Mr. Westmead, when I send you my retainer,” she says.
“Gentleman.” She nods at us and continues on her way to her car.
Turning just as she reaches it. “Oh, and, Mr. Westmead, if the proposal you’re offering isn’t in my inbox by end of business today, find someone else.
I don’t work with slackers.” She smirks at me and then climbs in on the driver’s side.
I don’t think I breathe until I watch her car pull out of the garage.
Turning to Simon, I keep my face neutral. “What can I do for you?” I ask.
He’s only here because he wants something. Not him, them. The Court. The first time I learned about their existence, and my family’s involvement in the secret society, I was sixteen. The night they helped my father hide the mess I got myself into. The night of prom.
The Court is made up of six families, all old money and prominent around the country. There’s us, the Westmeads, the Carnegies, the Van Barons, the Wickenshems, the Ambinis, and Bradley’s family, the Levines.
Seeing Simon is like having a bucket of cold water dumped on top of me.
The Court is the exact reason I left Jazzy that night.
It’s the reason I still need to keep my distance from her.
I can’t bring her into the shit that the society is involved in.
Especially with who her family is. The two worlds, although they coexist within the city, do not and would not ever combine well.
Jazzy and I are quite literally worlds apart. We always have been. Neither of us knew it at the time, but now I do, and it’s my job to ensure she stays as far away from me as possible.
“You’re friends with Miss Bianchi again?” Simon asks with a raised brow.
“Business associates. Not friends. What do you need?” I’m getting impatient.
“There’s a meeting tonight. Eight sharp. Don’t be late,” he says before walking away.
“Who called the meeting?” I ask his retreating back.
“Dan,” he says.
Fucking Dan Van Baron, a seventy-year-old fart who refuses to give up the reins to his family’s empire.
Unlike my father, who couldn’t hand it off to me soon enough.
I can see why though. This role, being at the top, being a part of The Court, it takes its toll.
How my father managed to stay sane and maintain a normal home life, I have no fucking idea.