Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Ileft the wake, and all the pretentious assholes pretending to be upset about my parents passing, about an hour into it.
I tried to stick it out. I wanted to help my uncle handle everything, everyone.
I couldn’t bear it any longer, though. Which is why I find myself back at Westmead Towers, in my office, working on my plan to bring these fuckers down.
There’s only one way to hurt them. There isn’t anything old-money families care more about than that money, except maybe their reputations. They might think they have the upper hand, five against one. But they’ve severely underestimated me and my skill set.
Hacking is the one thing I excel at. Usually it’s a pastime.
Or a quick way to find out intel on a business opponent.
It’s also how I’ve kept track of Jazzy over the years.
Although there was one thing I couldn’t protect her from.
The one thing I didn’t see coming. I vetted that fucking dipshit she was dating.
He was squeaky clean. I never would have thought he’d become abusive.
If I did, I would have passed that information on to her father or one of her uncles.
My fingers tap aggressively at my keyboard.
I have three screens lit up, all with script, as I configure a program that will allow me to infiltrate the Levines’ accounts without detection.
It’s easy when you know where to look, and thanks to Bradley and his loose lips, there’s not much I don’t know about his family.
He was there today. I didn’t talk to him. He didn’t bother trying to talk to me either. Which is a good thing, because I might have started a fight right there in the church. I did see him approach Jazzy. They had a very brief conversation. Her father never left her side.
Two hours later, I lean back in my chair, staring at the multiple accounts that hold billions of dollars in them, all in the Levines’ name.
I’m tempted to hit Bradley’s trust first, wipe it out completely.
There’s currently thirty billion dollars sitting in it.
I could transfer it all to an offshore account, make it look as if he did it himself.
It would be so easy. But I need to think this plan through.
I don’t want them to be able to trace the money.
Once it’s gone, I want it gone for good.
Of course, emptying their accounts is just the start.
The wealth these families have isn’t just cash related.
It’s in real estate, businesses that will continue to generate massive profits.
I need to work on a plan to completely tarnish their good name as well.
That’s when an idea comes to me. Fucking brilliant. Shutting down the program, I turn off the computer, bringing my arms behind my head and stretching my shoulders out.
I can’t be rash about this. I need to set a few things up first. I need to talk to my uncle.
He knows what I did. He knows that The Court is after me, and somehow, he doesn’t blame me.
He told me my father would have made the same choice.
He never would have agreed to hurt my mother by going after her family.
My mother’s parents died when I was ten.
It was said to be a fatal helicopter crash, but is anything in our world ever really an accident?
I don’t think so. I have no idea what happened back then.
I was too young to understand. I remember Jazzy crying when I told her about it.
I wiped her tears away with my finger and then made the cafeteria ladies whip up some pancakes for her.
Even at ten, people at that school did anything I wanted them to do.
That’s the family name and money for you.
It really does get you what you want in life.
Standing, I pick up my keys. I need to go home. To my apartment, not my parents’ house. I’m not ready to go back there. I have a penthouse not far from here. It’s where I’ve been living for the past ten years.
As soon as I walk through my door, everything seems to hit me. The tiredness, the sadness, the hopelessness. That one I push away, letting the other two take the reins. I head straight for the bathroom. I need to wash this day off me.
After a long, scalding-hot shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and step out into my bedroom, pausing when I spot a figure sitting on my bed. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”
Jazzy. She looks fucking beautiful and nervous. She should be nervous. She just fucking broke into my apartment, and who the fuck knows who saw her come in?
“You’re not the only one who has skills, Jake,” she says.
“You shouldn’t be here.” I walk into my closet.
“Well, you shouldn’t be alone tonight either. Where have you been?” she asks.
“Do you think this is all a joke, Jasmine? That the danger you’re putting yourself into by inserting yourself into my life is a fucking joke?” I yell as I pull on a pair of sweats. Walking back out of the closet, I fold my arms over my chest.
Jazzy’s eyes land on where her name is scrawled on my skin. “It’s not a joke, and you can be a grouchy asshole all you like. I’m not leaving.”
“Oh, yes, you are. I’m calling your father,” I tell her.
“Go for it. He already knows I’m here,” she says.
I do a double-take. “Your father knows you’re here, in my bedroom, sitting on my bed?”
“Well, he knows I’m in your apartment. I think we can spare him the details.” She smirks. “Where were you?”
“At the office,” I say.
“You buried your parents today and you went to work?”
“Yes.” I shrug. She doesn’t need to know what I was doing at work.
“You need to let yourself grieve, Jake,” she tells me.
“Your mother died when you were six, Jasmine. You barely even knew her. Don’t sit there and pretend to know what I’m going through, if I’m grieving appropriately or not,” I growl. I know I’m being an asshole, and I hate myself the minute the words are out of my mouth and I see the hurt on her face.
“Okay, I won’t tell you how to grieve. How about you help me with something, then?” she says.
“What do you need help with?” I ask, willing to do anything for her.
“I want to sleep. I want to know that you’re right next to me. It used to help when we were kids and had slumber parties,” she says.
I know exactly what she’s talking about, the nightmares. Whenever I stayed over at her house, she didn’t have nightmares. Her father put a stop to that when we were around eleven.
“They’re really back?” I question her.
“Different ones.” She nods.
“What are they about?” I walk back into my closet and pull out a shirt for her to sleep in. Jazzy doesn’t answer. “What are they about, Jazzy?” I repeat.
“Freddie,” she whispers. Her ex.
“You miss him?” I don’t really want to know the answer.
“I miss a part of the relationship we had. It was easy. We were friends.” She shrugs.
“Did you love him?” Fuck, I really must want to hurt more than I already am.
“No.” She shakes her head.
“Put the shirt on and get in my bed before I change my mind.” I should send her home. Having her here is dangerous. Having her anywhere near me is dangerous. I can’t find it in myself to turn her away, though.
“Thank you,” she says.
“You’re about to be wearing nothing but one of my shirts and getting into my bed. I should be the one thanking you.” I smirk. Because fuck me, now my dick is hard.
“What makes you think I’m not wearing panties to bed?” She raises a brow at me.
“You’re not,” I tell her confidently.
“We’ll see,” she hums and walks into the bathroom.
I pull the covers back and sit on the bed. Waiting. Then I pick up my phone and check the cameras surrounding the building. I can spot men in suits everywhere. They’re here for her. Thank fuck. No one is going to get through the army her father has stationed outside.
Jazzy walks out of the bathroom, her long legs on full display for me. Her nipples pebbled under the thin, cotton shirt.
“Fuck, this was a bad idea,” I groan.
“Why?” She pauses midway to the bed.
“Because I’m going to be dealing with a raging fucking boner all night,” I tell her.
“I don’t remember you having such a filthy mouth.” She smiles as she continues to approach the bed before climbing in on the opposite side.
“I did. I just controlled my filth around you,” I admit.
Jazzy lies down and rolls over to face me. I copy her, pulling the blanket up over us both. “Do you think it’s been too long?” she asks.
“Too long for what?”
“Us? Are we just strangers now?”
“Love doesn’t have an expiration date, Jazzy.” My hand reaches up to her face, my fingers brushing her hair away and tucking it behind her ear. “I think if anything, I love you more today than I did yesterday and the day before that.”
“But we don’t really know each other anymore,” she says.
“I know you better than I know myself. I know that you’re the most kind-hearted person I’ve ever met. I know that you’re the single most-beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I know that you are good, like pure fucking goodness.”
“I’m not that good, Jake. I killed a man…”
“You defended yourself. That’s not the same,” I remind her.
“Do you think the time is ever going to be right for us?”
“I’m working on making sure the time for us happens real soon.” I’m going to give it everything I have to make sure she’s mine, once and for all. “I promise I won’t quit until it’s safe for you to change your last name.”
“Why would I change my name?” Jazzy’s brows draw down.
“When we get married, when you become Mrs. Westmead.” I smile.
“Well, at least my dad won’t shoot you at the altar anymore. For some reason, he is suddenly on Team Jacob.” Jazzy smiles back at me. “I’m not questioning his moment of what is likely temporary insanity.”
“Let’s not,” I agree.
Jazzy laughs, and the sound goes right to my fucking heart.