by Ivy Layne
The housekeeper showed up while I was eating, which was curious, because I'd thought Jacob had said she was coming the day before. That was his reason for moving me into his bedroom. I didn't ask. He pressed the remote into my hand and said, "Why don't you watch TV for a while and see how you feel?"
I was bored with being sick, but not up for anything more energetic than lying on the couch. A few hours of mindless TV sounded perfect. It was crazy how doing nothing more taxing than sitting upright and binge-watching do-it-yourself home improvement shows could tire me out, but by the time Jacob brought me a lunch tray with a bowl of chicken and dumplings and I'd eaten it, I was ready to go back to sleep.
Again, he directed me to his room. The housekeeper was long gone. I was in no shape to confront Jacob. I thought about just climbing into his bed and letting it work itself out later, but I didn't like the sense of confusion on top of being weak from sickness.
"I should sleep in my room," I said, coming to a stop outside my bedroom door. Jacob's hand tightened on my arm, not enough to hurt, but in a strong grip that made it clear he wasn't planning to let go. His jaw set, he glared at me, then said, "No. I've had your things moved to my room. From now on, you're staying with me."
"Jacob," I said, my voice too loud and too sharp. "I can't stay in your room."
Jacob swept me off my feet, settling me in his arms. Before I could struggle, he tightened his hold, keeping me still.
"Do you want to sleep alone?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. I wanted to lie. I didn't.
"No, but it's inappropriate."
He laughed, surprisingly, and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "It's too bad you're still sick, because it turns me on when you get all proper and dignified."
Mute with surprise and annoyance, I said nothing. Just before he tucked me into his bed, I mumbled under my breath, "It's not right, Jacob, and you know it."
He pressed his lips to mine and kissed me, one hand tucked beneath my jaw, lifting my face to his. I kissed him back, falling into his touch as I always did. I'd missed his kisses while I was sick. I'd worried that after I was well, we would revert to our more formal arrangement of no kissing. Relief speared through me as I realize this would not be the case. Then again, the fact that he'd moved me into his bedroom changed everything.
He pulled away slowly and whispered, "Abigail, whatever we want is right. I want you in my bed and my room. If you want to be here too, that's where you'll be."
With that, he left. I tried to examine his words, picking at them like a teenager with her first crush, trying to understand what he really meant and getting nowhere before sleep claimed me and my mind shut off. I don't think I slept very long. No more than a few hours.
The sounds of voices woke me, low male voices talking over one another, at least one of them strident with anger. The thread of aggression in the muffled words sent adrenaline spiking through me, and I sat up in a rush, fighting off a wave of dizziness. I looked at the clock. Just after four in the afternoon. I sat there for a minute, trying to decide what to do. I could hide in the bedroom, but I doubted Jacob would have let anyone dangerous into the penthouse.
I was tired of hiding. If Jacob wanted me to stay in his room, he'd come tell me. But if he didn't, I wasn't going to greet our company wearing my pajamas.
CHAPTER TWENTY
JACOB
* * *
Family could be a royal pain in the ass. I have no idea who let it slip about Abigail—had to be either Tate or Rachel—but that afternoon, they arrived on my doorstep en masse. My brother, Holden, and my cousins, Vance and Tate, were more than welcome. I stuck them in the kitchen to make coffee while I dealt with the more complicated of my arrivals—my older brother, Aidan, and William Davis.
William had been best friends with all of our parents since college. In the case of our fathers, they'd been friends practically since birth. He'd been like a second father to me most of my life, and I loved him like family. But much like my older brother, he thought his main purpose in life was to tell the rest of us what to do and how to do it. I hadn't liked it when I was a kid, and now that I was in my 30s, it was unacceptable.
Part of me wanted to throw them all out. I was tempted, but they were my family, and I hadn't seen them much since Abigail had come to live with me. Since I've never had a woman living in my house before, I'm sure Tate found the gossip irresistible. He probably kept it from Aidan but told Holden. Those two were almost the same age. They'd literally shared a cradle, and I think they were constitutionally incapable of keeping secrets from each other, especially one as juicy as Abigail Jordan living with me.
It was easier to deal with whatever they wanted and send them on their way than try to kick them out now that I'd let them in the door. I was grateful Abigail was safely asleep down the hall in my bedroom. She'd put up a fight about sharing my room, but as I'd hoped, she'd given in. I was mostly certain she wanted to be there. Mostly.
Aidan and William followed me into my office and took the chairs opposite my desk, both of them making themselves comfortable. They'd been there often enough in the past to feel at home.
"Jacob, what is this I hear about Abigail Jordan living in your home?" William asked, spearing me with his most paternal gaze. I looked at Aidan, whose face was completely neutral, before I answered.
"I don't know," I deflected. "What did you hear? And from whom?"
William ignored me. "So it's true then?" He shook his head, giving me his best disappointed father look. "Jacob, I know that she's a beautiful woman, but this is completely inappropriate."
I couldn't help but smile at the way his words and tone mimicked Abigail herself. I was getting the impression William wanted her out of my house, so he probably wouldn't be amused to know he reminded me of her. Knowing it would irritate him, I shrugged and shoved my hands in my pockets.
"Maybe," I said. "Right now, very few people know she's here. I'd like to keep it that way until her situation stabilizes."
"And then?" Aidan asked, cutting in. His dark eyes betrayed nothing of his feelings on the matter of Abigail and myself. Aidan was tricky like that. William gave everything away from the start, but Aidan would let me hang myself before he'd tell me what he planned to do with me. Usually, a one-on-one confrontation with Aidan put me on edge. I love my brother, and I've never doubted for a moment that he loves me, but that didn't mean he was easy.
I wasn't going to hide my intentions for Abigail. Meeting his eyes, I said, "Once her situation stabilizes, I hope I can convince her to stay on a more permanent basis."
"And you think that's wise?" Aidan asked. "Taking on the Jordans is no joke. You've already been shot at. Is she worth it?"
"Of course she's not," William said, impatient. "She's damaged goods. Maybe if you'd gotten to her before the Jordans. Maybe. Your grandfather was friends with hers, and her mother was a good woman before she got sick. But even before John Jordan ruined her, her father became a disgrace."
"It's not common knowledge," I protested.
"Common enough among the people who matter. She's tainted. She was tainted before she married John Jordan, and she's lucky a single person received her afterward. The ones who did so did it out of respect for her mother and her grandparents, but she's hardly an appropriate match for a Winters, Jacob. Be realistic."
I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled at William. Sometimes, he sounded like his own father, stuck in the past, nattering over bloodlines and who people’s people were. That kind of thing was less important than it used to be, and not at all important to me. I heard what he was getting at. He was worried I planned to marry Abigail. I could end this whole aggravating conversation by telling him the truth about our arrangement.
I opened my mouth, then shut it. I couldn't do it. I would never humiliate Abigail that way, for one thing. And for another, at this point, I didn't know exactly what my arrangement with Abigail was. I still planned to keep her safe and take care of her mother, but the idea of kee
ping her as a pet had gone out the window. How had I ever thought that was a good idea?
Abigail was no man's pet. She was a woman. A smart, beautiful, passionate, intriguing woman. And William was wrong. There was nothing damaged about Abigail. Just the idea that her association with her father and her husband somehow made her less worthy pissed me off. Her father's choices were not her fault. If he were still alive, I might be tempted to kill him for the situation he'd left his wife and daughter in.
Marrying John Jordan had been a mistake. I wouldn't argue with William about that. But she'd been young, frightened, and in a terrible position. She'd done the best she could. No one should fault her for that. The more I thought about what William had said, the angrier I became.
Reading my face and sensing my temper nearing the breaking point, Aidan cut into my thoughts. In a level, almost disinterested tone, he asked, "Is she a potential match, Jacob? Is that what this is? Or are you just helping out a friend?"
Was Aidan giving me an out? I could go through door number two, claim I was just being a good guy, and shut the whole conversation down. Why wasn't there a choice in between? Why did Abigail have to be either a future mate of a Winters male, or just a friend?
I already knew the answer. Because Abigail, despite William's claim that she was damaged goods, was not a woman you fucked around with. This wasn't the 1800s. Plenty of respectable women had affairs. But Abigail Jordan had never been that kind of woman, and neither had her mother. I knew more about Abigail than she'd like. Cooper had conducted a thorough investigation in the name of finding out everything that might help us keep her safe from Big John.
No serious boyfriends before her marriage. A 3.8 GPA in college. A few newspaper mentions in high school related to charity events her mother had sponsored. She joined a sorority in college, but based on her GPA, I didn't think she'd done much partying. I had no doubt she'd been a virgin on her wedding night. Abigail was a throwback. That was part of the allure of trapping her here, of having the elusive Abigail Jordan all to myself. But now that I'd had her, it turned out I was the one who was trapped.
Aidan studied my face, patiently waiting for a response, while William tapped his foot on the carpet and shook his head at me as if I were a recalcitrant schoolboy who owed him an apology. I would not apologize for Abigail. Not for having her here, and not for her circumstances. Neither of us had anything to be ashamed of.
"Frankly, it's none of your business," I said to both of them. A copout, but I didn't know the answer myself. This was far more than helping out a friend. Abigail was not my friend. Did I want to marry her? I hadn't thought about marrying anyone. Not seriously. I didn't need a wife.
Between Rachel and my housekeeper, my life was well organized. I never had trouble finding a companion for social events. Ditto for sex. If I'd been disinclined to have a girlfriend because of the demands on my time and attention, a wife . . . a wife was a girlfriend times ten. Or worse. Why would I want that?
That sneaky voice in the back of my brain woke up again and whispered, But what if that wife were Abigail? What if she were here every day? What if all of that loyalty and devotion and passion were yours forever?
Unbidden, an image of what that might be like sprang into my head fully-formed. Both of us coming home from work, discussing our days over dinner, and Abigail eating naked because I'd teased her into it. I shook my head as if to chase the picture away. I'd only just gotten her to agree to sleep in my bedroom, and that was under protest. Until we dealt with Big John, she couldn't even leave home safely. We could worry about the future later.
Suddenly annoyed at being put on the spot like a child, I said, "This discussion is over. Abigail isn't going anywhere. If we make any decisions that impact the family, we'll be sure to let you know. Until then, you can both butt out."
William surged to his feet, his eyes hard, voice approaching a yell. "Jacob Winters, stop acting like a horny teenager. There are more important things at stake here than your cock. Find some other woman. Abigail Jordan is already reflecting on this family. People are talking, and it's unacceptable—"
As if the rise in William's tone didn't bother him in the slightest, Aidan leaned back in his chair and studied the older man with deceptive calm. His voice, however, held an edge when he said, "William. That's enough."
William spun to face him. "Aidan, you should know better. After the debacle with Elizabeth—"
Aidan's face went cold. We didn't talk about his brief marriage or his former wife. No one mentioned Elizabeth, ever. When we ran into her socially, we were polite, but that was it. For William to bring her up now—if he'd wanted Aidan on his side, he'd just lost his shot. I was getting ready to intervene, not liking the deadly look in Aidan's eyes, when the door to my office opened and Tate stepped inside, his dark blue eyes narrowed and his jaw set.
Closing the door carefully behind him, he said in a low voice, "Just so you know, your shouting woke Abigail up, and she's in the kitchen. We can hear everything you're saying."
God dammit. Fuck. She would be appalled and humiliated. I was going to kill William. And I was pissed at myself. I should have realized she might have woken up, should have thought before we raised our voices. Ignoring Aidan and William, I looked at Tate. "Is she all right?"
Tate shrugged. "She seems to be fine, but I get the feeling that Abigail could pull off dignified and collected in the middle of a tornado, so I don't really know. Holden invited Emily and Jo up, and Vance is charming her, so she's distracted." Changing the subject before I could respond, he said, "Did you show them the picture?"
Fuck. Why could my fucking family never keep their noses in their own business? Except a photograph of Tate's mother and father's murder was his business. I still didn't know what to make of it, and Cooper had come up blank. I'd tried to write it off as an isolated incident, some sick asshole getting his jollies, but that didn't sit right.
I went around to the other side of my desk and opened the top drawer, withdrawing the envelope that contained the photograph. "Someone we haven't been able to identify got through security and slid this under my door a few days ago."
I opened the envelope and slid the photograph out, glancing at Tate as the image was revealed. His eyes went dark with the same shock and pain I'd seen the first time he'd been confronted with the picture of his parents’ bodies. It wasn't easy for me to look at it either, and I remembered them better than he did. But, they weren't my parents. Almost as good as, since we'd all grown up together, but I knew if I were looking at a picture of my own parents’ murder, I'd feel even more torn up than I did right now. "Tate, you don't have to—"
With a jerk of his shoulder, he said, "It's fine."
It wasn't fine, but Tate was a grown man and it wasn't my job to tell him what he could handle. I nodded and laid the picture down on my desk. Aidan reached out to flick on my desk lamp, aiming the bulb directly at the photograph. His face, as I would've expected, was unreadable. Also, as I would have expected, William's was an open book. His eyes were comically wide, his face pale. Voice shaking, he demanded, "How did you get this? Who gave this to you?"
Ignoring William’s questions, Aidan asked, "Fingerprints?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. Whoever delivered it didn't know exactly where the cameras were in the hallways, but they must have known they were there, somewhere, because they wore a long coat and a wig. We've got photos, but it's impossible to tell much more than general height and build, though even that could be part of the disguise."
"And you've received nothing else? No other communication? No threats?" Aidan asked, his eyes probing mine, demanding truth. I might hedge with my brother about Abigail, but I wouldn't about this. I shook my head again.
"Nothing. It doesn't make any sense." Unable to look at the picture any longer, I picked it up and slid it back into the envelope. Tate, standing beside me, his posture stiff and his shoulders tight, visibly relaxed as the image of his dead parents slid out of sight. If I didn't worry
we'd need it, I'd burn the damn thing. But until we understood who had delivered it and why, and what they might want from us, it seemed smarter to keep it around.
"Bizarre," Aidan said. I could see the gears turning in his brain as he considered the problem. William said nothing. He stood there between Tate and Aidan, his eyes still wide with shock, his face white as if he'd seen a ghost. Which, in a way, he had. Abruptly, he blinked and said, "I have to go."
He turned on his heel and rushed out of my office, almost as if he were being chased. Odd. William lecturing me on appropriate behavior was to be expected, but his reaction to the photograph was weird. By the confused expressions on their faces, Aidan and Tate agreed with me. Something to deal with later.
"We need to tell everyone else about the picture," Tate said.
"No." Aidan's face was hard and uncompromising. "No one needs to see that."
"They have a right to know," Tate insisted.
"Not Charlotte or Annalise." Aidan crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Tate. Tate threw his hands in the air in exasperation.
"Newsflash, Aidan. The girls aren't children, and they don't need you to protect them from life." I could hear Aidan grinding his teeth as Tate went on, "I know you want to handle everything, and you still think of Holden and me and the girls as children, but we're not. We're all adults, and this is part of our life. Holden and I run two successful companies, Charlotte works for you, and Annalise travels the globe with her camera. We deserve to be treated as equals. Don't shut us out."
Aidan shook his head in resignation. "Fine. But not today. I want to talk to Cooper, and I want to think about this before we discuss it with everyone else."
Probably surprised Aidan had caved so quickly, Tate said, "All right."
"Are we good here?" I asked, impatient to get to Abigail and make sure she was holding up. She was still weak, and my family could be overwhelming.