The Devil has a British Accent: Book One: Jackson (White Carpet #1)

by Z. N. Willett

  “I didn’t think you would turn me down.”

  “A little overconfident, aren’t we?”

  “When it comes to everything else, yes, I’m confident as hell. But, you, you challenge everything I knew. You make me see things in a different way.”

  “Jackson . . .”

  “I’m sorry, baby, I have to go. Adrianna sent you my last-minute schedule changes. I have to get back, but I’ll call you tomorrow, same time.”

  Why couldn’t I end it? And why did part of me still harbor feelings for him?

  “Goodbye, Jackson.”

  “Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye to me forever?”

  “We both need to go.”

  He didn’t say anything else, and I could feel the heaviness lifting from me.

  Talking to Jackson disturbed me and caused insomnia, again. I had to resort to taking sleeping pills that night. I wasn’t happy about that.

  For the last week, I’d finally been able to sleep, despite everything that happened. Having insomnia for two weeks straight before that didn’t help my mental state, at all. It was as if my whole being wasn’t settling, and I couldn’t find comfort in anything I did.

  I couldn’t explain why the next evening I decided to grab my paints and head to the old church. I hadn’t done that for years.

  Why then?

  Who knew?

  Except, it did make me think of Cary.

  Setting up my oils, I started mixing colors as I began the first brush strokes. I kept painting until I had well defined the image of the church. As the brush in my hand swept across the canvas, my thoughts became freer. My mind found peace—and absolutely nothing jumbled my thoughts as I painted.

  I wasn’t sure exactly when I made up my mind, but it was during that moment it came to me. I needed to be true to myself. The only way I could be, was to think of what was best for me.

  Blake was on tour and loving it. Ashley was busy with her catering company. Mamaw was doing better, and she had a nurse at the house regularly. Mom was the same, but the doctors were always positive, which gave me hope. Cary was, well, Cary. He surprisingly honored my wishes by giving me space—or, it could have been he was about to put out a new CD, and he was consumed with that. Jackson’s filming schedule was brutal, and it kept him busier than he wanted to be, leaving him little free time.

  That left me, and I was ready to take the next step that was best for me.

  And it was a big step.

  It took a whole day of phone calls and inquiries before I received all the confirmations. When I was finished, I could feel the weight lifting from me, and I hoped I could find solace for the hole that had been left by Cary and made bigger by Jackson.

  “I know you,” a teenager behind me in line said.

  “Sorry, I don’t think so.” I glanced past her at the curious people who were also looking at me.

  “You do look familiar?” the airline agent added.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.” I ducked my head.

  “I’ve seen you on TV, or was it a magazine? You’re famous, right?” The agent continued to talk.

  “You must be confusing me with someone else.” I looked down to avoid eye contact with the airline check-in person.

  “Hm . . . how many bags are you checking?” the agent asked.

  “Four.”

  “You can place them here.”

  I stood aside while Ruben placed our luggage on the baggage belt. The airline agent kept looking at Ruben and me. She finished whatever she needed to do, scrutinized my passport, and handed it back.

  Cary might have been right about my fame extending farther than I imagined. Weren’t there real celebrities or reality stars bigger than I was? Obviously, not for the lady who shouted out of the blue, “I know who you are! You’re that girl who was pictured with Jackson Cruz.”

  “Miss, are we done here?” Ruben asked the agent sharply.

  “Yes, sir. Here are your documents, you’re at gate—”

  “Thanks,” Ruben interrupted. He yanked the boarding passes for our Paris flight out of her hand and promptly led me away.

  Great, all I needed was for this trip to start out badly.

  Ruben was already out of sorts about Victor forcing him to come and watch over me while I was in summer art school in Paris. Cary wouldn’t tell me what Ruben actually thought about the assignment, but from his attitude lately, it was obvious. It was going to be a long, long summer.

  We walked in silence until I heard someone yell, “Miss Moreau.” Startled, we both turned around, and Ruben stood guard. A tall blonde waved and yelled my name as she tried to run in what appeared to be four-inch red heels. She didn’t seem deterred by Ruben, who stopped her in her tracks.

  She regarded me with a smile and started talking a mile a minute. “Hey y’all, I’m Kayla. Sorry, I didn’t get the alert in enough time to catch up to y’all at the ticket counter. I’ll be guiding you through the boarding process, making sure everything goes smoothly from here. If there’s anything y’all need, please ask. We aim to please.”

  “Um . . . thanks, but we’re fine,” I said.

  “Ma’am, you don’t understand. Both Jackson Cruz and Cary Baine insisted we take care of y’all. Funny, we’ve never had two celebrities inquire about the same person. Let me take your carry-on.”

  I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it for myself. She pushed Ruben aside and grabbed my bag.

  “Really, Miss Kayla.” I glanced around and lowered my voice. “Thank you, but it’s not necessary. I prefer not to have any special treatment that could bring attention to us.”

  My pleadings seemed to fall on deaf ears. She was a loud talker, and people had already stopped to gawk. I looked over to Ruben for some help, but apparently, he wasn’t going to give me any. She walked off with my bag, and I grudgingly followed behind her.

  I glanced at all the people giving me the evil eye, as Kayla escorted us past the long security line to the front. I was going to strangle Cary and Jackson when I saw them.

  People began murmuring and acting perturbed. I couldn’t blame them, for I would’ve done the same thing. Once we were through security, I thought she would leave. Unfortunately, I was wrong. She meant it when she said she would stay with us until the boarding process.

  Since our wait at security was unexpectedly fast-tracked, we had over an hour until boarding. Usually, I would roam the airport shops, but with my two uninvited guests attached to me, I knew that wasn’t possible.

  Instead, while waiting, I gave Mamaw a call, letting her know we were checked in and through security.

  Earlier today, I went to Mamaw’s house to say goodbye and make sure the nurse knew to wiggle the shower knob to the right for it to turn on. Since I was leaving, Mamaw’s nurse agreed to stay with her full-time. It made us all feel better knowing someone else would be in the house, and it was someone she knew and trusted.

  Before saying my final goodbye, Mamaw pulled me aside and told me how proud she was of me. I’d expected her to find fault over something, as per usual, so her praise was a shock.

  She gave me her prayers and blessings, along with Mother’s French grammar guide. She wanted all her children to cherish their Creole upbringing, including the language, but everyone had to speak proper French. It was nice having a piece of Mom with me.

  I had also taken a moment and dropped by the hospital to say goodbye to Mom. She had sat silently, staring at her drawings, never responding, but I was sure she knew I was there.

  Waiting at the airport, I was getting restless, so I decided to pop into one of the convenient airport shops to pick up some gum. As I was checking out with the cashier, I noticed a man staring at me from behind his magazine. He darted his eyes away when I regarded him more thoroughly.

  As I scanned the entire store, paranoid, I saw a woman peering at me as she was getting a snack. She also glanced away when our eyes met. With her, I felt something more . . . maybe cynicism? Regardless, it was a s
trange vibe.

  I turned to pay the cashier, and noticed his odd expression, as if he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do.

  As I walked out, I tried to shake the feeling I was being watched, but as I approached Ruben and Kayla, my feelings became stronger.

  Everyone I saw, I was wondering if they could be one of them—not one of Jackson’s fans, but the one’s watching over our souls.

  And which kind were they?

  Kayla escorted us to the First Class lounge, another gift from Cary. I insisted on paying my own way, and he went behind my back and upgraded my ticket. Normally, I would have argued, but it was a ten-hour flight. Being able to sleep comfortably on the plane would be nice.

  It seemed as though it were yesterday when I landed at this airport to begin a new chapter of my life in New Orleans. Now, I waited for my flight to Paris, closing another chapter.

  Even though I knew the battle between my heart and mind could be a long one, surprisingly, I felt hope again. No doubt had crept in, just a hint of nervousness, mixed with a dash of anticipation.

  I had no idea what to expect, and boarding the plane to Paris, who really knew, but it was my decision and mine alone.

  At least, I didn’t think the angels had intervened this time.

  C’est la vie.

  To be continued . . .

  Thank you for reading, and spreading the word about this series.

  Reviews, tweets, posts, and shares are greatly appreciated.

  It’s because of you that my stories continue on.

  New-Adult Paranormal Romance

  The Devil has a British Accent Book Two: Cary

  The White Carpet Series—2018

  Romantic Comedy

  Acquired Asset

  Contemporary Romance

  The Trouble with Dating a Movie Star—The Red Carpet Series Book One

  The Trouble with Marrying a Movie Star—The Red Carpet Series Book Two

  The Trouble with being a Movie Star’s Wife—The Red Carpet Series Book Three

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  www.znwillett.com

  This was my first story written, and I am so excited that I could finally share it with you. It seems surreal sometimes.

  There are quite a few people I want to acknowledge and thank for helping make this story possible.

  My incredible family, you are always seeing the best in me, and I will forever be grateful for each and every one of you.

  My awesome Editors. Connie for making me reach past my potential. D. for your incredible insight.

  My very talented cover designer, Jada D’Lee Designs, for creating all of my amazing covers. This one is no exception to your incredible talents.

  My creative formatter Tami, for helping make my words stand out page by page.

  My wonderful pre-readers: Donna, Tinsley, Karen, Dinia, Silke, Pamela, and Fernanda. Thank you for always being there.

  My cheerleaders Brian and Gina. Thank you for your constant support and laughter.

  My PA Beth Ann, for uncomplicating my world.

  My amazing fans and followers, I can’t say it enough, you all rock! Thank you for always supporting me, pimping out my works, and always being there for encouragement.

  I’m the girl who has seen more than she has ever wanted, yet decided to add to that world by writing Hollywood romances. A northern girl, but a southerner at heart, I love anything and everything about love and romance. So much that once upon a time I had a career as a wedding and events coordinator. When I decided to do something I was passionate about, I added my love for travel to the mix. An avid shoeaholic, deep down I’m a sappy romantic who happens to believe that love can truly conquer all.

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