32. Emory
32
EMORY
As I pace back and forth in the library, I think of all the things I would rather do than call Jaxon. Get a root canal. Swallow razor blades. Show up to work completely naked. But I know he won’t trust any texts from me after what happened with Luke. My dad offered to stay while I made the call, but I told him I wanted to do it alone. He left over ten minutes ago and told me to let him know when I was done. My finger hovers over Jaxon’s number for another minute before I finally tap it.
It rings four or five times, and my stomach flips with each ring. I can’t decide if I want it to go to voicemail or not.
Then he answers.
“Emory?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“I knew it wouldn’t be long,” he says smugly.
“I need to talk to you.”
“I’m sure you do,” he replies. “Today isn’t good for me, though. Maybe another day.”
“Jaxon.”
“Yes, Princess?”
“You’re in more trouble than you think.” I don’t want to give all my cards away, but I need to convince him to meet with me.
“Oh yeah? I didn’t think I was the one in any trouble. Your boyfriend, on the other hand…”
“Please, Jax,” I say using my old nickname for him. I haven’t called him that in years. Not since before the night he ruined us for good. “I need to see you.” I gag at the fake sweetness in my voice, but he always loved when I said I needed him.
There’s silence on the other end of the line for what feels like forever, and then he speaks.
“Meet me in the lobby of the Baybridge Inn at five.”
“Okay, great,” I almost squeal. “I’ll see you then.”
I go to end the call, but Jaxon speaks again at the last second.
“Oh, and Emory…just so we're clear, there’s only one way you can get me to drop the charges.” Then the call ends.
I’m not sure what I was expecting when my dad said we needed to take precautions, but trying to stuff a six-and-a-half-foot, two-hundred-pound linebacker of a man into my compact car was not it. Dad insisted I bring Dustin—one of his security guards at the firm—with me to meet Jaxon. I told him there was no way Jaxon would meet with me if Dustin was there, so we agreed that he would stay in the car and I would text him updates every so often. If he didn’t hear from me every ten minutes, he would come into the hotel to check on me.
“I think the seat goes back a little bit more,” I say apologetically as I pull up in front of the inn.
“It’s okay. I’m fine, ma’am.”
I laugh. I’ve known Dustin for years now, and he still insists on treating me with the utmost professionalism. He’s only a couple of years older than me and has that broody, sexy bodyguard thing going on. There’s definitely a romance novel out there waiting to be written about him, but despite his sex appeal, I’ve only ever thought of him as an acquaintance.
“Okay then. I’ll text you in ten.”
“Don’t forget,” he says, breaking character. “I will storm in there, guns blazing.”
I roll my eyes before slipping out of the car. “Got it, killer.”
As I enter the inn, I’m immediately greeted by the scent of mahogany and wood fire. This is one of the oldest hotels in Connecticut, but it’s constantly being updated, so it has a mix of historic charm and modern luxury. Despite it only being twenty minutes from Emberfield, I have only been here once for Caldwell Security’s annual Christmas party. Which I only attended because I accidentally let it slip to Nate that I wasn’t working that year. We were never invited before Nate started working at the company, which had been fine by me. I’m not surprised this is where Jaxon is staying, though. It’s probably the most expensive hotel around here.
I glance around but don’t see any signs of him. I check my phone. It’s a few minutes to five. Maybe he hasn’t come down yet. The man behind the front desk notices me looking around.
“Excuse me, miss. May I help you with something? Are you checking in?”
“No, I’m supposed to meet someone. A guest. I don’t see him yet, though,” I say as I continue perusing the lobby.
“Are you meeting Mr. Forbes by any chance?”
“Yes, actually.”
He nods his head. “He’s expecting you in the drawing room. Take a left at the fireplace, and it’s just down the hall from there.”
“Oh, thanks,” I say hesitantly. Of course, he’s already changing the meeting spot. Probably trying to get me further away from anyone who could hear me scream…
I walk to the end of the hall and see a singular door. It’s made of heavy oak that reminds me of the bookshelves in the library. I shoot off a text to Dustin letting him know my exact location, and then I slowly twist the brass handle until the door creaks open. I feel like I’m in a horror movie, about to walk into a grotesque crime scene or some chick with long black hair is going to crawl upside down towards me.
But no. It’s an entirely different scene of terror I walk into. Jaxon is sitting on one of the suede couches, his dirty blonde hair mussed and curling at the edges. He has two deep red bruises on his left cheek, a cut above his eyebrow, and one over his top lip. His nose is covered by a bandage with two matching purple bruises blooming underneath his eyes. He looks rough. I expected he would, but seeing him like this makes him look…I don’t know…almost human?
He’s looking at his phone, but he lifts his head up when he hears the door latch click back into place. He doesn’t stand but remains in his seat, his legs kicked out in front of him, a smug grin on his face, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“You came alone,” he observes. “Brave.”
I don’t say anything but slowly advance closer to where he’s sitting on the couch.
“You know,” I start. “It’s funny how sometimes you don’t think much of something until you put it into context.”
Jaxon looks confused. He probably assumed I was going to come in here all weak and docile, begging him to drop the charges against Luke, but he would have been dead fucking wrong.
“Do you remember parents weekend sophomore year?” I ask, not waiting for an answer. “It was the only one your dad came to. Not that I’m one to judge. My dad didn’t come to any. But yours came that year, and I didn’t see you for the entire two days. I remember thinking that you were hiding me from him because I wasn’t good enough. You know, like you always told me.
“But then I decided to go to the homecoming dinner, even though you hadn’t asked me to go with you. I thought I would surprise you since you were always saying I didn’t make enough time for us. I couldn’t find you, though. Then I passed by one of the empty rooms in the back and saw you and your dad.” I inch further into the room, taking in Jaxon’s expression. His gaze is pure steel. “He seemed really angry,” I continue. “He called you a fuck-up. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I thought you were just having an argument and things got a little heated. My dad and brother used to argue like that sometimes. Anyway, I snuck out because I didn’t want to interrupt. I didn’t even think anything when you showed up the next day limping with bruises all over your face. You told me you went to a keg party that night and got into a fight. And I believed you.”
Jaxon’s eyes drift over me as I press closer. I feel like a lion tamer, waiting for the right moment to lunge.
“The thing about abuse is…” I hesitate for a moment, letting my words sink in. “It’s cyclical. Your father abused you. You abused me.”
Hurt people hurt people.
“I never?—”
“Hit me,” I finish for him. “I know. There’s more than one way to skin a cat, Jaxon. What you did to me—” But I don’t finish my thought. He doesn’t deserve to hear all the ways he broke me.
“Do you have a point here?” he says, snapping out of his daze and returning to the smug facade I walked in on. “Or are you just trying to stall? Or maybe…” His grin widens and then he barks out a laugh. “Are you trying to connect with me? Emotionally? My daddy kicked my ass a few times, and now I’m supposed to sympathize with you and let your little boy toy out of jail? So you guys can ride off into the fucking sunset? Is that it?”
I purse my lips but keep them shut.
“I have news for you, Princess. That’s not how our story ends. I told you, there is only one way to get your precious boyfriend out of prison, and I meant it. Marry me, and I’ll drop the charges. I have a judge willing to do it tonight. He’ll be free by morning.”
“No.”
“No? Interesting. I would have sworn you would do anything to save him.” He shrugs his shoulders. “But I guess you’re the same selfish little cunt you’ve always been.”
I know what he’s doing and it’s not going to work. I still haven’t shown all my cards yet, and I’ll be damned if I let my anger get the best of me.
“I will fight like hell to get him out, but I won’t sacrifice my freedom.”
“Oh no? How about your dignity?”
I gulp down the glass shards in my throat as he shifts forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Let me fuck you right here, right now, and I’ll drop the charges. Simple as that. You’ll have to make it convincing, though. None of that fake shit you pulled when we were together. You’ll have to scream so everyone in this fucking place can hear my name on your lips.”
“You know I would never do that,” I say calmly. He’s trying to rattle me, but he’s going to have to try harder than that.
Jaxon shrugs and picks up a crystal carafe filled with brown liquid sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He fills a rocks glass, bringing it to his lips before tipping it back and downing it in one go. “Yeah, but it was worth a try.”
Something clicks in my head. I never forced myself on you. He didn’t. But his father did. Force himself on women…
“It wasn’t just you,” I say, sitting down in the chair opposite him.
His eyes snap up to mine, but his face doesn’t give anything away.
“Your mom?” I guess. “And you knew about it. You heard it. How old were you when you realized what was happening?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps as he slams the glass onto the table. Surprisingly, it doesn’t break, but I almost jump out of my skin all the same. “You don’t know shit about my mother.”
“Is that why you go for older women?” I taunt.
His face twists into a snarl, and the cut on his eyebrow starts to bleed a little, dripping down his face. He wipes it with his thumb and stares at the blood for a moment before rubbing it back and forth with his forefinger.
I swallow, ignoring the disturbing gesture.
“Do you love her? Victoria?”
Realization paints his face, and that sadistic grin makes a reappearance.
“I’m not capable of love, Princess,” he says, wiping the blood on his fingers off on the table. “You, of all people, should know that. She was just a fuck. A good fuck…but a fuck, nonetheless.”
Yeah, I do know that. Despite all the times he swore up and down he loved me and everything he did to me was out of love, I don’t think I ever really believed it.
“But you care about her,” I say. “That’s why you hid it from me last night when I asked you about the bruise. You didn’t want her to get caught up in any of this.”
“We have common ground,” he says vaguely. But I know exactly what he means. Marshall Astor is intense. And that’s out in the open. I can only imagine what it’s like to be married to him. What he’s like behind closed doors…
Jaxon picks up the glass again, refilling it with the brown liquid, and takes a long swig. Guess he’s moved on to whiskey now instead of his usual Grey Goose.
“How do you even know her?” I ask. Not that it matters, but I am sort of curious.
“I had a business deal with her son, Declan, about six months ago. He invited me to have lunch at his house, and Victoria was there. She and I… hit it off. More than once, actually. In the bathroom. In the pool house. On the kitchen counter after I snuck back that night while everyone was asleep.”
I try to remember a time when Jaxon detailing his sexual escapades would have made me feel small and worthless, but right now, all I feel is pity for him.
“And when you came back to town a few weeks ago?”
“That time was actually in her bed.” He smirks as if remembering something. “I fucked her where she and her husband sleep while he was out of town on business.”
“But he wasn’t out of town this time. And he caught you. How could you be so reckless? At a fundraising gala with her husband downstairs?”
Jaxon’s mouth gnarls with irritation, and he throws back the rest of his drink. There’s an unused glass on the other side of the carafe. I take it and pour myself a drink. I’m not going to drink it. I know it’s not drugged because Jaxon has been drinking it this whole time, but I want to keep my wits about me all the same. I just need something to do with my hands.
“That son of a bitch—” he says, balling his hands into fists, but he doesn’t finish his thought. He must realize that he’s given too much away already.
“What happened to her? Your mom?” I ask, steering us in a complete one-eighty.
He pours himself another drink and lifts it to his lips but doesn’t drink. He appears deep in thought for a few moments before he places the still-full glass back on the table. “She left.”
It all clicks into place. Him wanting to spend every second with me. Always needing to know where I was and who I was with. The manipulation. The guilt. He has a textbook fear of abandonment.
“It wasn’t your fault?—”
“I don’t need your pity, Emory. She had to leave. She couldn’t stand up to him. She was weak. Victoria is weak. All women are fucking weak,” he snarls.
“And me?”
His lips turn up into a grin. “I have to admit you were stronger than I would have thought. In the beginning anyway. But I made you weak.”
“You didn’t make me anything,” I reply. “I am what I am, in spite of you. Not because of you.”
He scoffs. “Those are pretty little words you tell yourself to feel better. They mean nothing. You’re just as weak as the rest of them.” He tosses back his drink, slamming the glass onto the table. It tips over, and the remaining liquid trickles down the glass, dripping onto the wood. “You needed your big, bad brother to save you from me. You may hate him for it, but if he hadn’t stepped in, you would have left with me. You would have been my wife. I had you wrapped around my fucking finger.”
Fuck you. I feel like screaming it, but I don’t. That’s exactly what he wants. He’s clearly intoxicated now, and I don’t know if him being drunk is going to make this next part better or worse.
“I’m going to cut to the chase here, Jaxon,” I finally say. “Marshall Astor is going to tell your father about your affair with his wife. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what that would mean for you. But…my dad is close with Marshall and thinks he can talk him out of it.”
Jaxon snickers. “Oh, I see. And you would do this for me? Out of what? The kindness of your heart?”
I shoot him a glare, and he chuckles again.
“Blackmail, Em? I didn’t think you had it in you. I’m almost proud.”
“It’s not blackmail. We’d be helping each other out.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Princess. So, let me get this straight. All I have to do is drop the charges against your boyfriend and Daddy will help me out of the sticky little situation I’ve gotten myself into?”
I could have done without his gross wording, but I nod my head anyway. “Yes.”
He pretends to think for a moment. “Hmmm….pass.”
“Jaxon—”
“Really, Em? That was the ace in your pocket? How do you know I don’t already have a plan in place to deal with Marshall myself?”
“I don’t.”
“And how do I know you’ll keep your word?
“You don’t.”
“So you want me to just let him go without having any assurance that you will call off Marshall or that your father will even be able to get him to back down? That’s cute, Emory. This is what happens when you send a woman in to negotiate a deal,” he scoffs. “Of course, I could just agree to your terms and then not keep my end of the bargain. You wouldn’t tell my father about the affair yourself, would you?”
I try to hold his gaze, but my eyes flutter down to my lap. It’s my tell, and I know he knows that. Could I tell his father what he did knowing that I'd be sentencing him to God knows what kind of torture? But isn’t not helping him and letting Marshall do the dirty work the same thing? He deserves whatever he has coming to him, but I took a vow to help people. Not hurt them. And now that I know how broken Jaxon is, I can’t stop picturing that little boy who had to listen to his mother being assaulted by his father, night after night. It makes my stomach churn. But there’s something else that’s been gnawing at me.
“Why do you even want to marry me?” I spit out. “You don’t love me. You don’t even like me.”
“Simple,” he says, shifting his legs. “My time has run out. My father gave me three years after college to find a wife. When I didn’t meet that deadline, he chose one for me.”
“So? Marry her!” I nearly scream, throwing my hands in the air.
He laughs. “Her father is worse than mine. To everyone but her, that is. He protects her like she’s some sort of rare fucking diamond. I would never be able to gain control of her. If he caught me so much as looking at her wrong, he would have me tortured while he watched.” He says as he runs his hands through his already messy, dirty blonde hair. “And you’re wrong. I may not be capable of love, but I did like you. We had some good times, remember?”
It takes me a minute to sort through everything he just said and the emotions that go with it all. His last comment makes my blood boil because he still thinks he can just write off all of the pain he inflicted just because we had some ‘good times.’ But then my mind lands on something else, and I can’t help the smile that dances on my lips. I like the idea of someone forcing Jaxon to treat a woman right. But also, that’s why he wants to marry me? Because the alternative is being coerced into a healthy relationship? I refuse to believe he ever liked me as anything more than a metaphorical punching bag.
“Have you never considered not trying to control her and actually respecting her?” I ask, ignoring his last question to me.
He cocks his head to the side in utter confusion.
“Or find literally anyone else,” I add.
“It’s not that simple. It has to be you.”
“Why?”
“You’re perfect,” he coos. It sounds vaguely like a compliment, but I know better. “My dad has been wanting in on your father’s company for a while now. You’re the only person he would be willing to break off my engagement for.”
There it is.
“So what, you just thought you would come here and force me to marry you, so you don’t have to marry this other woman?
“Force. Manipulate. Whatever it takes. I had a plan when I first came here, but my father insisted I return to California to get to know my new fiancé and set a wedding date. After I appeased him for a couple of weeks, I was able to sneak back here to finish what I started. It turns out I didn’t even need a plan, though. When Luke came to confront me, it all just sort of…fell into place.”
“You provoked him,” I guess. “He came to warn you away from me, but you wanted him to rough you up so you could record it and get him arrested. You even went to the emergency room so they would take your statement and get photo evidence of the assault. You’ve probably taken worse beatings in your sleep without getting medical attention,” I scoff.
“I guess you’re not so dumb, after all. Yeah, I provoked him. It doesn’t change the fact that he went through your phone while you were sleeping. That can’t feel great. He must have had it all planned out. Bet he fucked you real good first so he could —”
Anger coils in my gut and I launch forward, raising my hand, ready to slap the smug look off his face, but then I hear a commotion in the hallway. There’s a thud and the sound of boots stomping and someone yelling.
“You can’t go back there, sir—” a man’s voice calls from outside the door. “There’s a private meeting going on.” Another thud.
Shit. Dustin. It’s been over ten minutes since I last texted him. I completely forgot.
Seconds later, Dustin shoves the door open, and he does not look amused. The man from the front desk looks rattled and out of breath. “I’m sorry, Mr. Forbes. He just stormed back here and?—”
“Emory?” Dustin calls, interrupting him.
“I’m sorry! Everything is fine. I forgot to text,” I rush out.
“No need to apologize. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I am,” I assure him. I look back at Jaxon, who has an amused look on his face.
“I knew you wouldn’t come alone. Still afraid of me?” he asks, tapping his fingers on the wooden table in front of him.
“I wish we lived in a world where a woman never had to be afraid to be alone in a room with a man, but here we are,” I fire back. I’m so fucking done with his misogyny.
His smile slowly disappears. “Anyway,” he says, looking at Dustin. “We are done here, so feel free to escort your employer out at your earliest convenience.”
Dustin’s eyes shoot to mine, but I shake my head. “We’re not done,” I say. I’m not giving up. Luke needs me. I don’t care what he did to get where he is. I’m the only person who can get him out of it. And I’m. Not. Giving. Up.
“We are,” Jaxon retorts. “I told you my terms. They haven’t changed. Either agree to them or get the fuck out of my sight.”
Dustin takes a step forward, but I pin him with a look.
“Jax…” I try. “You got dealt a bad hand, but you have the chance to make it right. Break the cycle.”
“I said get the fuck out,” he roars, causing me to jump.
Dustin steps in front of me protectively, just like Luke would if he were here. I gently nudge him back to my side, and with utter defeat coursing through my body, I approach Jaxon.
God, what am I doing?