—seven—
Ella
The doors of the Daily Scandal bang open as I hurry into the office for the second time today. I’m definitely not trying to go by unnoticed this time. I’m done trying to please Mark Devlin or his investors. All I care about is making sure no one takes advantage of Jim’s grief.
Of the million questions racing through my head only one burns to be answered. How did Mark end up talking with Jim without my knowledge?
I head straight for Mark’s office and, bingo, Jim is sitting on the brown leather armchair that gives the space a luxurious feel, complete with expensive bookshelves and an HD TV set.
Jim’s shoulders hunch forward, unable to hold his neck straight which is a huge shock to me. Jim has always been proud of his near perfect posture. He’s a tall man who always held his head high. It strikes me that the real shock is that Jim looks old and tired, nothing like the robust, energetic forty-year-old I have preserved in my memory.
It’s easy to deduce from Mark’s stunned expression that Jim didn’t inform him of his call to me. Jim is a very smart man. I liked having him as a father.
“Jim,” I say, acting surprised, “how nice to see you.”
“Look at you, all grown up and professional,” Jim says, patting me on the back cautiously as if too much affection could offend me.
I wrap both arms around him, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” Jim says, his voice brimming with tenderness.
Seeing me must be like a reflection in time, shimmering to him through the years from the days Madison and I shared a room, a living reminder of what the poor man has lost forever. My dry throat feels parched, itching against the heaviness of the emotions of the past few days.
“I thought you took the day off,” Mark says.
As hard as he tries to sound casual, he can’t fool me. I’m familiar with the acute cunning he uses to hide his true intentions when preparing to skin a potential victim in order to extract vital bits of scandalous detail.
“Forgot my flash drive,” I say, shrugging, and for once I have the upper hand because, unlike me, Mark doesn’t know how well I can lie. Push a person to their limits and they’ll extend their limits.
“Since you’re here, would you mind having a word?” Jim says, doing his best to sound cheerful.
“Of course,” I say, leading Jim out of Mark’s office.
“I’ll be right here,” Mark says. I’m never sure of his intent. His words might be a plea, a request or a threat.
“How are you holding up?” I ask Jim when we sit down at a table outside the Daily Scandal building. “Did you talk to Mom?”
“I’m numb. It’s denial, I guess,” he says with a bitter smile. “Isn’t that how they say it?” He looks up. His face lightens into the saddest smile. “Seeing you helps. You are so beautiful, a reason to think life is worth living.”
My chest tightens and I have to open my mouth to take the next breath in. Jim’s suffering is devastating, unimaginable. I don’t deserve his affection. I feel inadequate, having barely any real life experience under my belt, to be able to support him.
“Listen,” he says, taking my hand in his, a dead serious expression overtaking his features. “I didn’t call you to commiserate. I called because I’m worried.”
“About what?”
“Your boss called me at the hotel where I’m staying and said the police had given you the task of interviewing me before they met with me. Then, when I got here, they said you had left the office sick.”
“I feel fine,” I say, barely able to control my irritation.
“Why would your boss lie to me, Ella?”
I shrug as I try to find the answer to that question myself. “We had a disagreement,” I say in the end. “Maybe he didn’t want to burden you with all that. He didn’t want you to worry.”
Jim puts his hand under my chin, lifting it, locking his eyes on mine. “He can go to hell. That man, the Devlin character, he wanted me to sign a form agreeing not to talk to any other media and that my interview would be exclusive and that I’d get compensated.” He pauses, fidgeting a little as anger rises in his eyes. “He thought I’d want money.”
“Jim, I’m sorry, I had no idea,” I start to say when he interrupts me.
“Forget it,” he says. “I want to get to the crucial part. While I was going over that form, Devlin had a phone call. I fumbled with the papers on the desk and, you know me, I get clumsy when I’m upset.”
His eyes sparkle with some new life. Whatever it is that is causing such a transformation, I’m grateful for it. “You do get overexcited sometimes,” I say with a wink as I remember a dropped birthday cake.
“Well, I knocked some papers off the desk and as I picked them up, I noticed your name on one of them. Signed by a Detective Esposito. It seemed to me he was asking for permission to have you followed. It was an official police document, right there, on your boss’s desk.”
This horrific situation is getting weirder by the second. Why would Esposito want me followed and why would Mark need to know about it? The more I think about it, the more it looks like there’s a conspiracy which I cannot even begin to fathom. “Thank you for letting me know,” I tell Jim, squeezing his hand and getting lightheaded.
Jim eyes me with a mysterious grin on his lips. “You don’t seem too surprised. This worries me even more. What’s happening?”
I shake my head. “You have no idea, Jim. The world makes no sense the past few days. Everyone seems like they want something. They’ve been trying to use me and now they’re trying to use you. I’m ashamed to be part of this.”
“Surely they don’t think we have anything to offer them regarding this tragedy. It pisses me off. We’ve lost,” he says angrily and then can’t finish. He shakes his head as tears well in his exhausted eyes.
“You know how the media can be,” I say, resting my hand on his. “Don’t give it a second thought. It’s too ugly for words.”
Jim rubs his temples as if to chase away a sudden headache. “You’re too innocent for all this, Ella. Don’t let it change that thing I love about you.”
“There’s no innocence left these days. The internet has made us all participants in the ad-driven deceptions of the new journalism. Edward Murrow would turn over in his grave.”
He smiles. “How does a young lady your age know anything about Ed Murrow? That’s before your time. Hell, it’s before my time.”
“Journalism professors still believe in the golden age of the press,” I say. “Guess some of it rubbed off on me.”
He brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. It would feel strange if he had not done it with such paternal affection. “I’ve always believed in you, Ella. Maddy did, too. We thought the world of you. You’ll do great things,” he says and then stands up. “I need to take a walk.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything,” I say.
Jim squeezes my shoulder as he walks past me slowly. “My door is always open to you, sweetheart.”
I sit at the table alone. A loud truck clangs past me on the street. A clenching pain presses down on my heart making it hard to breathe. Jim’s sadness mixes with my own and even my anger struggles to thrive. My shoulders ache now too. My whole body hurts like shattered glass stabs against every nerve in my devastated body.
Pushing myself from the table, I decide to fight through this sinking feeling of unbearable misery. I rush back inside and storm into Mark’s office.
“I need to know what you have on Esposito,” I demand loudly.
Mark glances at me, furrowing his brow. “Leave it alone, Ella.”
“You won’t even deny it, Mark? You owe me an explanation at least.”
Mark sits back, exasperated. “You are a pain in my ass,” he says and exhales deeply. “I don’t have anything on Esposito. Certain nefarious people have something on me. They forced me to get you involved.”
There’s an alarming buzz in my he
ad as my pulse quickens. I did not expect this particular answer. “Is Rick one of them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they have something on him. All I know is your involvement in the investigation was a setup. I’m sorry, Ella. I thought someone was trying to protect themselves. I didn’t realize the risk.”
“So I’m at risk,” I conclude.
“You might be, yeah,” he says. “Be smart.”
“I quit,” I tell my editor-in-chief who only a week ago promised me a raise and a promotion, feeding my dream of making a living as a writer.
“You can take a leave of absence. You don’t have to quit. Esposito freed you from the investigation. We both want what’s best for you.”
Mark’s words can’t reach me anymore. Nothing in this place can. Not the promise of a career, not the chance to help bring the person who killed Madison to justice and certainly not the desperate expression on Mark’s face.
I go by a row of mostly empty cubicles that will someday all be filled with busy reporters if Mark has his way, to the tiny nook where my spiraling descent into uncertainty began when the news of the terrible death of Madison reached me days ago.
Okay, how does it go when someone quits an office job? They grab a brown box and fill it with their personal belongings, right? Where the hell is that stack of boxes when you actually need one? The movies promise they can apparently be found in every office in the country. Another media lie.
All I can come up with is an oversized plastic bag from Macy’s. It’ll have to do. As I stuff the bag with pens, pencils, notebooks, my mug and some photos, Hanson shows up at my cube.
“What’s this?” he says, his eyes on the plastic bag.
“I just quit.”
“Is it because of what I said?” His tone tells me he’d have a total breakdown if that was the case. No matter how much he wants to help me, he couldn’t assume such a responsibility. That’d be impossible to bear for Hanson to think he contributed to me losing my job.
“No,” I say to calm him down. “I had it out with Mark. I don’t belong here.”
“No one belongs here, but it’s a job. Are you going to be okay?”
“I am. Thanks, Hanson.”
I extend my hand. He finally takes it after a moment staring at it hanging between us. He lowers his eyes to his feet. “Something great is out there waiting for you,” he says. “Hang in there. You’ll be missed around here.”
Wow, I didn’t think Hanson would bring about my undoing today. I quickly wipe a tear off my cheek as I leave my first paid writing job behind me and dial Jax’s number.
“I don’t have time to explain,” I tell him, “but I think Rick Esposito might be working for the people who had Madison killed.”
Jax growls, making it impossible to understand him. “Uncle Lucius called,” he says after he’s done cursing. “He wants to talk. I know I promised I’d wait for you but that’s not an option now. I’ll see you after I meet with him and we’ll talk about everything.”
He hangs up. I leave the building with my pathetic bag of meaningless office refuse and wonder what the hell I should do next.
—eight—
What did you do?
It’s been two days since Jax left to work something out with his uncle. My paranoia has me seeing strange men and women everywhere. The world feels like it is swallowing me whole. I know the police are following me and they are easy to spot, but am I crazy to think there are others? Women, men, street performers and, I swear, at least one dog who is always outside of every building I exit. This dog has the wisest eyes on Earth. Or maybe I’ve fallen into the kind of madness that makes all dogs look alike.
None of this matters anymore. Jax called to say he’s on his way to my apartment. I can breathe again. His meeting with Lucius sounded like a good idea at first but now I’m entering panic mode, worrying about everything—from the most trivial, like the state of the apartment, my hair and my mood (and not necessarily in that order) to the most crucial matters, wondering about what kind of news Jax brings but also what the vibe between us will be like as we deal with all this ridiculousness.
Our budding relationship has undergone more changes in a week than most relationships ever do. Did I happen to mention my head is still reeling from his confession of love? There is a tiny winged fairy somewhere in my head whispering that there’s a strong possibility Jaxson loves the ghost of little Ella who let him ride her bike more than he could ever love the flawed woman I’ve become.
All these thoughts stop when Jax knocks on the door. I race to the door not even considering it could be someone else. My heart pounds through my chest when he saunters past me into my living room.
“Close the door,” he says, urgently. He’s in perfect shape today, dressed in expensive khakis and shirt, tall and freshly shaven with his hands in his pockets and all that good musculature bulging underneath his smooth skin.
Every swoon worthy quality shines in his overwhelming deliciousness. He’s here and he’s mine. We can work anything else out together.
He stands in front of the TV set, saying nothing, concentrating on the black screen like he expects an alien to jump out anytime.
“Jax?” I say, testing the waters.
He extends one arm, his fingers inviting me over. I walk to him. He closes the extended arm around me, pulling me close to his rock-hard body.
“Do you have bad news?” I say, barely audible.
“What? No. It’s just…”
“What?”
He pushes me backward a few steps until he pins me against the wall, leaning over me with all his height and might. “I can’t control myself around you. It’s dangerous. One look, one sniff, one touch and I’m gone.”
“Gone?” I say against his breath.
“Lost from the world, drowning in a fantasy of suddenly sinking my cock into your sweet little heat, watching your gorgeous face squirm as you feel me stretching deeper inside, hearing your moans become screams.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I tease, shoving him a little, but unable to contain a grin. “I vote for that gone thing.”
He smiles. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I have a list, actually,” I say with a wink. This is true. It’s been a very long two days.
“You do not?” he asks, uncertainly.
“Of course I don’t have a list, silly,” I lie as I grab his cock. “But I have been daydreaming about you and HIM.” I pinch his gift and that’s not easy when it’s so fucking hard.
Jax kisses me, groaning and sucking on my lips, his hands on my cheeks. I bury my fingers in his hair, drawing him closer, wanting him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything. I need this closeness, I need him and I need to have a few worry-free moments in his arms.
His lips roll off my mouth to the base of my neck, grazing over my collarbone. I reach down to unzip his pants.
“Bad girl,” he says, as I pull his pants down his legs and around his knees, sliding my hand inside his bulging boxer briefs to grab his heavy cock.
“Destroy me a little,” I say, freeing his coiled erection from the fabric and squeezing it with both hands as it stretches out straight.
“You sure enjoy holding on to my cock,” he says with a grin.
“That’s your mistake. It’s mine now,” I say. “I’ll do whatever I want with it so shut your beautiful mouth.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, cupping my ass cheeks.
“Call me ma’am again and I’ll bite it,” I warn him sternly.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says as he moans.
I lift my eyebrows and stick my tongue out and then drive my nails into his shaft, hurting him. “It’s supposed to be a punishment,” I say. I forgive him too quickly and pump his long shaft a few times until his breathing gets too heavy to speak. “Missed my big boy,” I whisper in his ear.
He hoists me over his shoulder without saying a word. I yelp gleefully.
“You caveman,” I shriek,
“put me down.”
“You’re too sexy for your own good,” he says and then tosses me onto my unmade bed.
I slap his cock and watch it bob back and forth from side to side. It’s so fucking hot I just stare at it and blush. “You could have hurt me, you asshole.”
He takes his shirt off over his head and I almost orgasm instantly.
“I think the exact request was destroy,” he says.
“Jax,” I say, acting terrified as he crawls over me. “Those were just words. Be careful with that big thing. Really.”
He laughs. “I thought your words were precious to you?”
I nod. “Yeah, but my pussy is way more precious,” I say with my heart pounding into my throat.
“Finally, Ella Wade,” he says with the sexiest voice ever. “That’s something we can agree on. Your pussy is very precious to me too.”
I lie back, arms stretched over my head, and it’s like not a moment has gone by since the day Jax fucked me so hard and sweet at the Malibu mansion. We’re in synch, our hearts and bodies. His hands attack my shirt and my jeans roughly until he holds me naked in his arms.
I gasp a little as his lips find my nipple. I arch my back with a moan when he bites down with his teeth. The bite stings just enough to make me pant but before I can protest he has moved to the other nipple, repeating the pattern and now he’s sucking on my eager buds, one after the other, making them taut as hell. Damn, the boy really knows what he’s doing. His mouth on my nipples sets my whole body on fire, making me crave for everything at once.
I reach down to grab his shaft, gently stroking him. He’s already throbbing, but I swear he grows bigger in my hand almost instantly. Lord, I almost forgot how his cock never stops thickening when stroked.
“What are you doing?” he says.
“What do you think? I need that inside me now.”
“Slow down,” he says, grabbing both my wrists and pulling them above my head again, pinning them together. “You haven’t earned my cock yet.”
Scandal: The Complete Series Page 13