JACKSON (The Billionaire Croft Brothers, Book One)

by Paige North

  She finally did sit down, because she had the sinking feeling that Lucas really was exactly who he said he was. It explained so many things about how strangely he’d been behaving. “Why are you pretending to be a temp?” she asked him, sitting as far away from him as possible on the bench.

  “I’m working undercover to try and get information about Cullen Sharpe and his company. It’s very difficult to gain entry to his organization at the higher levels, unfortunately. And even more difficult to get close to the man, the way you’ve managed to do.” He shot her a meaningful glance.

  “I’m not close to him at all,” Ivy said, pressing her lips together. She felt sick to her stomach.

  “Sure you don’t want a bite?” Lucas said, once again extending the hotdog outwards.

  “I’m sure.”

  He shrugged and started eating, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I wasn’t sure how I would connect with you,” Lucas said, “but then I happened by your desk and saw the email you were reading. And I realized that perhaps you’re ready to hear the truth about Cullen Sharpe.”

  “Just happened by my desk? You were standing there spying on me,” she replied. “That email was personal and you read it without my knowledge or consent.”

  He chuckled. “The bureau isn’t very concerned with the dead woman anyway,” Lucas said. “She’s just one of Sharpe’s many pieces of collateral damage.”

  Ivy turned her head and stared at him. “So you’re not investigating that woman who died?”

  “We’re aware of the situation,” Lucas said, chewing and swallowing. “But we don’t really care much about it unless it helps us with the bigger investigation into his illegal activities.”

  “Bigger investigation?”

  Lucas turned towards her. His eyes were steady and unwavering, watching her as closely as she was watching him. “We have reason to believe that Cullen Sharpe is a very dangerous man—to himself, to those close to him—and even to the security of our nation.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Ivy felt as though she’d stumbled into a waking nightmare.

  “Listen,” Ivy said, feeling like she was going to scream or throw up or just pass out. She tried to gather herself, as things spun out of control. “Listen to me, Lucas. I don’t know anything about what you’re talking about. I hardly know Cullen Sharpe. He tells me nothing about his life or his business.”

  “Maybe that’s true, or maybe you’re already covering for him.”

  She stared at him, aghast. “So now you’re accusing me of lying?”

  “Lying to a Federal Agent involved in an investigation is a crime, Ivy. It’s called obstruction of justice, and it’s punishable by jail. Just saying.”

  “I’m not lying. And I don’t intend to be bullied by you,” she said, moving as if to stand up. “Now please leave me alone.”

  “Stay right where you are.” Lucas threw the last of his hotdog in the trash and then wiped his lips again with a napkin. “Don’t think you can have a temper tantrum and make this go away. This isn’t going anywhere, Ivy. You will help us in our investigation.”

  She stared at Lucas, completely stunned by the fact that he was the same young guy who’d seemed so young and innocent previously. Now, he seemed much older—maybe he was thirty-three, not twenty-three.

  Not to mention an FBI agent.

  He was also a mean, cruel jerk who was trying to scare her.

  Worst of all, it was working. She felt terrified and weak. “I don’t know what you expect me to do, Lucas,” Ivy said helplessly.

  He sat forward, hands on his elbows, not looking at her as he spoke. “The first point of business is that you absolutely will not reveal my presence to Cullen Sharpe.” He turned and glanced over his shoulder at her. “If you tell him I’ve approached you, I’m going to make sure you do prison time.”

  “Prison time for what? I haven’t broken any laws. I don’t know anything.”

  Lucas nodded. “That’s what they all say. But the bottom line is that we have plenty of evidence that suggests you’re romantically involved with Cullen Sharpe, and that you have every reason to lie on his behalf. A judge and jury will likely see things the FBI’s way, not your way. Remember that, the next time you consider telling Cullen about me, or about any conversation we might have now or in the future.”

  Ivy felt tears starting to well in her eyes, and before she knew it they were pouring down her cheeks, and she hated it. She hated that Lucas was seeing he’d gotten to her, just as intended.

  “I don’t know why you’re doing this to me,” Ivy said softly.

  “You might just be unlucky,” Lucas said, standing up. “You got caught up with the wrong guy at the wrong time. Personally, I don’t care what you did or didn’t know about the man when you started fucking him.”

  Her shoulders shook. “You’re evil,” she whispered, but her words were barely audible.

  Lucas continued, as if he was discussing the weather. “I’ve told you that he’s a bad guy and the United States Justice Department is trying to stop him,” Lucas said. “You’re going to help us from now on, or you’re going to go down with Cullen Sharpe and the rest of his sinking ship. Understood?”

  She didn’t look at him. She just closed her eyes. “Leave me alone,” she whispered.

  Lucas stood there for a long time. “Don’t test me, Ivy. Cullen Sharpe might seem like a powerful dude with big connections, but I promise you that the U.S. government is much bigger than him. Think about that before you do anything stupid.”

  When she opened her eyes again, Lucas was walking back into the building.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon floating, as if her mind had somehow snapped loose from its moorings.

  Knowing that Lucas was watching her, knowing that she was now part of his monstrous web of lies and manipulations that were far beyond her ability to comprehend.

  Ivy could hardly concentrate on her data entry.

  She was so exhausted when the clock hit 5:00 p.m. that she nearly cried in relief. As she hustled out of the cubicle farm, making sure to stay far ahead of Lucas, Ivy passed by Emma Marks’s office.

  “Ivy,” Emma called, waving at her. “Could you come in here?”

  Ivy sighed. She felt pain in her stomach and her chest, and a weariness that was nearly indescribable. But she entered the office, trying to smile like everything was just fine. “Hey,” Ivy said. “Anything wrong?”

  Emma sat back and twirled a fancy black pen in her fingers as she watched Ivy with cold eyes. “Your numbers are falling,” she said. “Falling behind the targets—your errors are climbing and your speed is dwindling.”

  “I know, but Cullen—I mean, Mister Sharpe—he said that he told you I had errands to run and…”

  Emma held up a hand to silence her. “I’m not talking about that,” she said. “Even accounting for the time away from the office running errands, your numbers are becoming unacceptable.”

  Just the way Emma said the phrase ‘running errands,’ as if the idea was absurd, allowed Ivy to know that the woman wasn’t buying that excuse for even one second. Ivy felt embarrassed and exposed, yet again.

  “I’ll do better,” she said softly.

  “I should hope so,” Emma told her, “because don’t think you can get away with this forever.” Her hate-filled eyes bored into Ivy relentlessly. “Cullen is a very mercurial man with evolving tastes. One day he might find someone interesting, exciting, intriguing, and the next—“ Emma snapped her fingers. “Poof. All of that interest is gone.”

  Ivy glared at her. “I don’t know what you’re even talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t,” Emma replied with a smirk.

  “If you have something to say to me, then say it.”

  “I just did,” the blond woman shot back. “This is your first official warning. Hit your targets or you’ll get another. And another. And then you’ll be gone. I have a feeling that by the time you’re getting warning number three, perha
ps Cullen won’t be so keen on defending your poor work any longer.”

  Ivy turned on her heel. “Message received,” she said.

  “Bye, bye!” Emma called after her in a singsong voice that made Ivy’s shoulders rise in frustration.

  But Ivy just kept walking, knowing that to engage would only give the bitchy supervisor exactly the confrontation she was looking for.

  Ivy’s nerves were frayed and she felt completely numb, as if the world around her wasn’t even completely real. The people passing by and the sounds out on the street didn’t seem like they had any substance.

  How can this be happening? Was I really just threatened by an FBI agent today? Am I really in this situation?

  She felt like a fly ensnared in a spider’s web, only there were three spiders surrounding her and no possibility of escape or help.

  As she was walking, hardly looking where she was going, a car pulled alongside her. The window rolled down. It was Cullen looking out at her. “Where are you going?” he said.

  “Home.” She tried not to stare into those eyes that seemed to see right into her soul—eyes that could read her every emotion.

  “Let me take you,” he offered.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Ivy. Get in.”

  She wouldn’t look at him. She kept walking, hoping he’d go away but also perversely wishing he’d stay close. Wishing he’d somehow figure out what was wrong and tell her he was going to make it all okay.

  Ivy knew that was never going to happen, but somehow, the thought of losing him completely was even more unthinkable.

  She watched her feet moving along the sidewalk, refusing to look up to see what was around her.

  After a time, she assumed he’d driven off and left her alone.

  And then she bumped into a strong body standing in front of her. Looking up, she saw it was Cullen.

  She crumpled, sobbing, into his arms, and he held her tightly. “What happened?” he whispered in her ear. “Tell me. Tell me and I’ll fix it,” he said.

  That made her sob even harder, because it was exactly what she wanted to hear, exactly what she needed him to say.

  Except that she knew she could never tell him the truth.

  Cullen stroked her hair. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. She could smell his cologne, and his scent, and she melted into him, relishing the feel of his suit against her cheek, and his hands in her hair.

  His body felt warm and strong and real. How could he be capable of all the terrible things people were saying about him?

  “I don’t think it’s going to be okay,” she admitted.

  “Come on,” he told her, taking her by the hand and leading her to his waiting car.

  She dutifully got inside and sat there, while he went around and got in the driver’s side. As he slid into the driver’s seat and shut his door, Ivy stared straight ahead.

  Cullen began driving, not speaking for a time.

  After a few minutes, he glanced at her. “Tell me what happened. Was it something to do with that guy you were talking with in front of our offices?”

  She couldn’t believe he’d so quickly landed on the truth. Ivy shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t know what you’re even talking about,” she lied.

  “Don’t pretend, it’s beneath you,” Cullen said. “I saw you out there having a bite to eat and chatting with that guy on the bench across the street.”

  “Were you spying on me or something?”

  Cullen shrugged ever so slightly. “I always keep track of those I care about. And yes, I watched you talking to that guy. I recalled you were with him at the bar the other night, too. What’s going on? Are you interested in him?”

  “God no,” she muttered. “He’s disgusting. A pig.”

  “That’s pretty strong emotions for someone you hardly know,” Cullen told her.

  “I really don’t appreciate being cross-examined like this.”

  “You sound guilty.”

  She froze. “Don’t accuse me of things.” But the truth was, she did feel guilty, just not for the reasons Cullen thought.

  Tell him now. Tell him the truth about Lucas. Tell him about the email. Tell him everything and be done with it.

  She opened her mouth, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Lucas had gravely frightened her with his threats of retaliation if she spilled her story to Cullen.

  Lucas worked for the government and he was telling her that Cullen Sharpe was bad news. How could she possibly know whom to trust?

  Could she be dumb enough to go against the FBI? That would almost certainly ruin her life.

  Cullen sighed. “It’s as if you want to make me angry.”

  “I don’t,” she said, clutching her hands together as she watched the traffic out her window.

  “Then why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  He sounded genuinely wounded, and it hurt Ivy to know that she was the cause.

  “Lucas is a fool,” she said, finally. “He was just chatting about nothing,” she continued, hating the sound of lies coming so easily out of her mouth.

  “But he’s interested in you,” Cullen pressed.

  “I suppose, in a way,” she admitted. At least that had the ring of truth to it. Lucas was interested in her—interested in using her to get information about Cullen.

  “Why are you giving him the time of day?” the CEO asked, sounding flustered.

  “I’m not,” Ivy replied. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “Listen, I can’t do this right now,” she said.

  “You can and you will,” Cullen told her. “I need answers.”

  She glared at him, her pain and sadness and fear transforming into anger. “How dare you,” she said.

  He glanced at her, brow furrowed, cool blue eyes analyzing. “How dare I?”

  “You want to grill me about my life and what guys I do or don’t talk to. Meanwhile, you’re a hypocrite.”

  “Watch what you say,” Cullen warned her.

  “You haven’t told me one thing about yourself, not one single thing.” Her hands curled into fists as she thought about it. “Maybe if you’d been honest with me about yourself, I wouldn’t be in this fucking position right now.”

  “What position is that? What have I lied to you about?”

  She shook her head, knowing she was straying perilously close to giving the truth away. “I’m helpless,” she shouted. “I’m sitting here like a fool, waiting to see what chess piece you decide to move. Waiting to see how it effects me.”

  He pulled the car into an empty lot off the street, behind an old, abandoned building, and parked. “I don’t know what you think I should be telling you about my life,” he said. “But that isn’t part of the deal, and I’ve been upfront with you on that score.”

  Ivy laughed wildly. “I guess that makes it okay, then.”

  Cullen turned to face her. “Makes what okay?”

  “That little bitch, Emma Marks, called me into her office before I left work and gave me an official warning for missing my data entry targets.”

  “She did?” he asked, frowning. “Well, I’ll have a talk with her about that,” he muttered.

  Ivy rolled her eyes. “You don’t get it.”

  “I’m lost,” he said, exasperated. “What are we even discussing?”

  “She made comments about how you get enthusiastic and passionate about people one day, and then turn around and forget about them the next. It was clear that she knows about you and me.”

  Cullen gripped the steering wheel and his eyes searched away from her momentarily. “Perhaps she figured something out about your relationship with me,” he said. “But I don’t care what Emma Marks thinks about it.”

  “And what about you and Emma?” Ivy retorted.

  “What about us?”

  “Were you together ever? Is that why she hates me so much?”

  Cullen’s gaze shifted again. “I can’t say why she hates you,” he replied, but his tone wasn’t ve
ry convincing.

  “Just admit you screwed her, Cullen.”

  He finally met Ivy’s gaze. “A long time ago,” he said. “We had—“

  “Fuck you,” Ivy said as she undid her seatbelt and went for the door, trying to open it so she could flee the car.

  “Ivy,” he yelled, grabbing her arm from behind. “Do not leave this car.”

  “Or what? What are you going to do about it?” she yelled, still struggling to open the door.

  Cullen’s hand wrapped tightly around her arm, and then he was pulling her back towards him. Ivy felt her body reacting, getting turned on despite the anger she felt.

  Only one man knew how to unlock her body with a single touch of his hand, and that was Cullen Sharpe.

  The very same man who’d caused all of this madness in the first place.

  It was a vicious cycle, but Ivy didn’t know what else to do. She let him manhandle her, turn her around so she was staring directly into his pitiless, beautiful blue eyes.

  “You’re baiting me,” he said through grit teeth. “It’s like you want to make me so furious I can’t see straight.”

  “You don’t know shit about what I want from you,” she replied, as his hands grabbed both her wrists while she struggled against him.

  His muscular body pressed down upon her from the other seat, forcing her backwards. Her legs splayed up and her hip was wedged against the gearshift. Cullen forced her arms over her head as he stared down at her. “I can see your nipples are hard,” he said, “and your cheeks are flushed. Your pupils dilated.”

  “So what?” she gasped. “I’m upset.”

  “I bet if I touched your pussy right now, it would be drenched,” he told her.

  Ivy began thrashing beneath him, as if trying to push him off. Of course, she knew it was pointless. But somehow she needed to do it, needed to fight. Needed to scream and yell and have him take control, because she was losing.

  Losing control.

  Losing everything.

  Cullen managed to grab both her wrists with one hand, pinning them overhead, while his other hand grasped her breast over her blouse.

  She cried out, moaning. “You’re a monster,” she whispered up at him.