JACKSON (The Billionaire Croft Brothers, Book One)

by Paige North

She was laughing a little, despite her frustration. Cullen Sharpe was the most maddening person she’d ever come across, but somehow he was growing on her.

  When they got inside the store, a middle-aged woman with red hair and red glasses greeted Cullen with an enthusiastic hug and kisses on both cheeks.

  They began conversing in French, and Ivy was shocked to hear Cullen fluently talking and even laughing with this woman.

  After a few moments, the woman turned and looked at Ivy, pulling her glasses down and looking over them at Ivy. She nodded appreciatively. “Très bien,” the woman said, nodding again.

  Then she turned on her heel, clapped her hands, and called a thin man and a young woman over to her. She began instructing them in rapid fire French, and they were staring at Ivy and nodding.

  Ivy turned to Cullen. “What the hell—“

  He motioned for her to calm down. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, Ivy.”

  “Cullen—“

  His gaze fixed on her and his jaw twitched. “Don’t disobey me again today, Ivy.”

  She shut her mouth and tried to smile, as the employees of this boutique surrounded her with measuring tape, clucking their tongues, talking in French amongst themselves, pulling and poking her as if she was a chicken corpse they were prepping for roasting.

  Eventually, they dragged her into a changing room and then began carrying various outfits in for her to try on.

  Ivy complied, not feeling comfortable, but also knowing that Cullen Sharpe meant for her to do this one way or the other.

  After about forty-five minutes, she’d tried on a wide assortment of dresses, skirts, blouses and pants, even panties and bras.

  Everything was of lovely quality, of course, but having two French speaking women and a man watching her and commenting in another language on everything she tried on, was more than a bit strange.

  Especially for a girl who was used to shopping at TJ Max and JC Penny, where she was lucky if someone would give her a changing room to use, let alone fawn over her and run back and forth with various outfits.

  If they cared about what Ivy thought, it didn’t ever register in their behavior. She was certain they knew how to speak English, but they never spoke a word of it to her.

  She was just a living mannequin, apparently.

  Finally, it was over, and the red haired woman in the red glasses spoke to her in perfect English. “You must wear this out of the store,” she said, about the final blouse and pants she’d tried on and was still wearing. “That other shirt and skirt—“ the red haired woman made a face and made a shaming gesture with her finger.

  “I know, the buttons ripped off—“

  The woman turned around and walked away. “Come, come,” she said, opening the door to the changing area.

  Ivy walked out and Cullen was there, waiting for her. When he saw her, his eyes widened and he nodded appreciatively. Then he turned and conversed with the French woman again.

  They were carrying bags to the register, and the bags were quite clearly filled with the outfits Ivy had been trying on. The employees were still folding some items and putting them in bags as the thin man rang up the clothes.

  When the woman left Cullen and went up front to check on their progress, Ivy got the CEO’s attention. “What’s going on here?” she whispered.

  “You don’t like the clothes?” he asked, curious and maybe a little concerned.

  “No, the clothes are fine…they’re beautiful. But why are they ringing up bags and bags of them? You’re not buying all of that, are you?”

  “Yes, but not for you,” he told her, his expression serious. “You’re just the model I was using.”

  She felt her stomach clench and she looked down. “Oh. Well…”

  “I’m joking, Ivy,” Cullen said, chuckling. “It’s all for you. Of course.”

  She looked up at him, then. “That was a mean trick.”

  “You were just being so silly, I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I can’t accept all of that. It’s got to be thousands of dollars.”

  Cullen stroked his chin. “It’s the way I like to do things,” he told her.

  “So you do this all the time with your women? Is that why you know the owner so well?”

  He laughed. “She’s an old friend of mine. Her husband is a doctor who I’ve known for years.”

  “Oh,” Ivy said, feeling silly now.

  “You need to trust me,” Cullen said. “I take you very seriously.”

  She looked at him and nodded, feeling her pulse speed up. Was she falling for this man? Could she allow herself to do such a stupid thing?

  “I’m just not used to any of this. Any of it.”

  He nodded. “I know.” He gave her a slight smile. “But you’d better get used to it. I don’t believe in being stingy with those whom I care about.” And then he walked to the front and pulled out his wallet.

  Ivy was left standing there, stunned.

  Those that I care about.

  Cullen just admitted that he cares. About me.

  Ivy arrived back at her cubicle sometime later, feeling dazed, her head spinning from everything that had happened that afternoon.

  She could hardly believe it.

  Cullen had explained to her that he had an appointment when he dropped her off at the office, but he said he’d be having all her new clothes delivered to her apartment so she didn’t need to worry about lugging it all around.

  And he’d apparently texted Emma Marks and let her know that Ivy had done some errands for him, and so she had an excuse for being out of pocket for so long.

  When Ivy sat back down at her desk again, she felt completely overwhelmed…but in a strangely good way.

  Maybe there’s some bizarre method to Cullen Sharpe’s madness. Maybe I really do need to start trusting him.

  She smiled to herself, biting her lip as she remembered what he’d done to her just a few hours ago in that café bathroom. Ivy was blushing just thinking about it.

  Everyone had known what they’d done—all of those customers and staff. It was enough to make her want to crawl under the desk in embarrassment.

  But, on the other hand, it had been hot.

  Beyond hot.

  She felt her face flushing and her nipples stiffening as she remembered sucking him, taking him all the way in.

  It had been intense, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted to do it again. And next time she wanted him to come in her mouth.

  Besides, she thought, he admitted he cares.

  He said as much.

  Ivy took a deep breath and let it out. Regardless, she needed to try and get something done from her pile of work before leaving for the day.

  She entered her password into her computer and then started to get back to doing data entry. It was only after about ten minutes of work that she noticed she had a new email.

  Probably just some corporate mass email. Or maybe…just maybe…some quick little note from Cullen?

  She smiled, imagining that. Hoping it might be something about wanting to see her again later that night.

  Ivy pulled up her work email and hoped it wasn’t just some generic interoffice memo, but something directly from Cullen.

  Except it wasn’t either of those things.

  The email was from Xavier Montrose. At first, she thought it was a joke, maybe Cullen playing a prank on her by pretending to email her as his nemesis. Maybe he was testing her loyalty.

  But once she began reading the message, Ivy knew that it wasn’t a joke at all, because Cullen would never have written such things.

  Her stomach spun and she got a horribly sour taste in her mouth as she read Xavier’s words of warning.

  Ivy,

  I hope you don’t object to my sending you this at your work email address. It was the only contact I could find, since I never quite got the opportunity to get your phone number today.

  It’s obvious to me that you and Cullen Sharpe have something going on and I don�
��t intend to interfere. But I did want to make you aware of something, because I don’t think it’s fair for you to be kept in the dark.

  Especially not when it comes to you potentially risking your life…

  This is a serious charge, and it’s very real. The man who wrote the attached email (see below) is a doctor from the hospital where Cullen Sharpe has worked as a neurosurgeon for the last decade.

  Take it as you will. I only forward it along to you because I genuinely think you’re a sweet girl who’s in way over her head.

  Be well, Ivy. If you ever need to talk, I’m here…

  Begin Forwarded Message:

  Xavier,

  Good to hear from you. Things have been a little crazy, what with the new construction going up and all of the chaos it’s caused around the hospital.

  But recently I’ve been occupied with darker matters.

  New information has come to light about our old “friend” Mr. Sharpe. Needless to say, much of this is confidential…

  The death of his patient has not quietly gone away as we’d all hoped it might.

  Her family has gotten involved and they’re investigating—putting serious muscle behind their efforts. They’re convinced that her death was totally avoidable, and what’s more, that it wasn’t simply an innocent mistake by a tired surgeon.

  Her parents have gotten wind of Sharpe’s romantic involvements with their daughter, and it seems they even gotten hold of the domestic violence charges against him.

  It all boils down to a very big mess, a potential PR disaster for the hospital and perhaps a trip to prison for The Ice King if any of the allegations pan out.

  You know that many of us who had direct knowledge of the situation were always suspicious, but politics and power have a way of dampening inquiry.

  That seems to be changing. Her family is very determined and quite wealthy. I have a feeling our friend is about to find himself in very hot water indeed.

  But maybe that’s what a murderer deserves.

  Best,

  Fred Martins, MD, Chief of Surgery, Boston City Hospital

  Ivy read the email twice, her heart pounding, a headache blossoming instantly behind her eyes as the enormity of the message struck her full force.

  The writer of the email—the chief of surgery no less—had actually referred to Cullen as a murderer.

  She felt chills run up and down her spine and she grew colder and colder.

  Her heart wanted to simply discount it all as rumor and gossip and innuendo. But then she remembered the way Cullen had reacted to receiving those court documents, and the strange conversation she’d overheard between him and that mystery woman in the early morning hours.

  She didn’t know if any of these things related to one another, but Ivy had the horrible feeling that there might be truth to the email Xavier had sent her.

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she spun in her chair, wanting to run to the restroom to have a private cry.

  Only, blocking the entrance to her cubicle, was none other than Lucas. And from the look on his face, Ivy knew that he’d been standing there and reading over her shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered. “Why are you always snooping around here? I’m going to report you.”

  Lucas gave her a somber, calm look. “Ivy,” he said, “we need to have a serious talk.”

  “I’m not saying shit to you. Now, move out of my way, Lucas.”

  “It’s about Cullen.” He looked around and then lowered his voice. “He’s not what you think. You’re in grave danger.”

  And that’s when her world truly began to spin out of control.

  END OF BOOK 4

  Threat (The Billionaire’s Rules, Book 5)

  Lucas was standing in the entrance to Ivy’s cubicle, blocking her path out.

  “Get away from me,” she warned him. She still couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve to read a private email by standing behind her like some creepy stalker.

  Ivy was furious, her blood boiling at the invasion of her privacy. And then he’d used that moment to tell her that he knew something else bad about Cullen Sharpe.

  As if anything he could tell her would shock her. She’d just read an email that accused the CEO of murder, and Lucas thought he could add something new to the mix?

  Lucas spoke in a low, conspiratorial voice. “In five minutes, take your break and go outside. I’ll be waiting across the street by the hot dog vendor and we can talk.”

  “You’re an idiot if you think I’m going anywhere with you, Lucas.”

  “I’m not asking, I’m telling. It’s for your own good,” he said, and before she could respond, Lucas had turned around and left her cubicle. He went back to his own desk and sat down like nothing had even happened.

  Ivy turned back to her computer and realized that Xavier’s email was still up on her monitor. She quickly closed out of it and deleted it from her email inbox.

  Her heart was pounding hard in her chest and she felt tears threatening behind her eyes. Ivy shivered, feeling simultaneously cold and clammy but also sweaty.

  More than anything, she wanted out of the little box she was sitting in, trapped by the cubicle walls and the quiet humming of her co-workers computers on all sides. She felt like a little rat in a maze, needing to climb the walls to escape.

  She left her cubicle and went to the bathroom, and luckily it was empty. Running cold water over her hands, she washed her face and tried to catch her breath.

  Calm down, Ivy. Cullen Sharpe isn’t a murderer. He isn’t going to jail for anything. That email didn’t really say much, just a bunch of innuendo and gossip between people who don’t like Cullen. That’s all it was.

  But she couldn’t quite escape the feeling that there was more to that email than just bad blood and gossip.

  It hurt. It hurt as if someone had just punched her in the stomach. And now, to make matters even worse, Lucas was trying to intimidate and confuse her too.

  Was she really going to meet him outside and listen to whatever crap he intended to try and force-feed her about Cullen?

  Ivy didn’t want to talk to Lucas, but then again, she was feeling like maybe it was easier to just face the jerk head on.

  She’d look Lucas in the eye and tell him to go to hell.

  It had been about five minutes since Lucas had come to her cubicle, so he was probably out there waiting for her.

  Just try me, Lucas, she thought, her hands clenching as she imagined his surprise when she fought back against his accusations and showed some backbone.

  She walked out of the bathroom, down the hallway and out of the Biomatrix lobby. She looked across the street and saw Lucas buying two hotdogs.

  Ivy shook her head in annoyance, realizing that Lucas had just assumed she’d be joining him.

  He thinks I’m a total pushover--that’s why he assumed I’d come outside and talk to him. Whatever he’s going to try, I’m not letting him get away with it.

  She walked across the busy street, head held high, eyes set and determined to tell her “friend” where he could stick his hotdog and his conversation.

  When she reached Lucas, he was handing the vendor a few bills. “Keep the change,” Lucas said, as the vendor thanked him profusely.

  “What do you want?” Ivy said, as she got closer.

  Lucas held one of the hotdogs out to her. It was wrapped in plastic and it actually smelled quite good. Her stomach grumbled, but she shook her head and folded her arms across her chest.

  “Suit yourself,” he said. “I’ll eat ‘em both.” He walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, taking a large bite of one hotdog.

  “Just say whatever you want to say so I can get back to work,” Ivy told him.

  He glanced up at her. “Sit down.”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. And if you don’t start talking, I’m going back in.”

  “Ivy. Sit.” He gestured next to him.

  “Screw this. I’m going back ins
ide, Lucas. I only came out here to tell you—leave me alone or I’ll make sure you’re fired. I can do it, too.”

  Lucas put one of the dogs down on the arm of the bench, where it balanced precariously. He held up one finger as if requesting her patience, then reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet, and flipped it open.

  Ivy saw that there was a large picture ID staring up at her from inside the wallet. It was unmistakably Lucas in that picture, and on the ID in large letters it read FEDERAL BUREAU of INVESTIGATION, with a very legitimate looking seal of the U.S. Department of Justice embossed next to that.

  A cold shot of fear went through her entire body, completely stopping her in her tracks.

  “Now why don’t you sit down,” Lucas said, smiling in a way that was friendly, while also seeming to be threatening at the same time.

  “That’s probably a fake,” she said. “You don’t work for the FBI, Lucas. You’re my age.”

  He took a large bite of the first hotdog, then another and another, finishing it entirely and crumbling the wax paper in his hand. He tossed it into a nearby trash barrel and then closed his wallet and put it back in his pocket. “Okay, Ivy,” he said, as he finished chewing. “What I want you to do is take out your phone and look up the FBI Boston Field Office. Google it, and call the main number. Ask for Assistant Director Ratner, and then tell him you’re standing here with me. My real name is Special Agent Lucas Hogan.”

  Ivy hadn’t moved since seeing his FBI credentials. She refused to believe he was for real, though. “Maybe you’re just impersonating this agent. I know you’re lying, Lucas.”

  He laughed and raised his eyebrows, as he took the second hotdog off the arm of the bench and unwrapped it. “Fine, let’s the two of us make a visit to the field office right now, together. It’s not far from here. We’ll go speak to my superior in person. It’ll be hard for you to deny who I am after that, Ivy.”

  She shook her head no. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Sit down,” he smiled with his lips, but his eyes weren’t smiling any longer. “You’re making this scene look very suspicious. I really don’t want to be angry with you, and you don’t want me to get angry either.”