by Amelia Wilde
“Mom!” I laugh out loud. “I’m out for a run.”
“At this hour?” I can practically see her standing in her kitchen, wringing her hands. “Are you alone?”
“It’s almost six-thirty. It’s light out.” I take in a deep breath and let it out. “And I’m not technically alone, no.”
My mom sighs on the other end of the line. “That security service doesn’t count.”
“It really does. What’s going on, Mom? Did you have something you wanted to talk about?” I take the curve to the left in the sidewalk, slowing my pace so she doesn’t think I’m being chased.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
My heart aches. Back in the Bronx, my mom worked long hours and went to school, so she needed every hour of sleep that she could piece together. But that didn’t always work out. A memory comes to me: her silhouette at the doorway to the bedroom late at night, backlit by the streetlight outside on the ground floor, the light filtering through the cheap curtains.
Are you still working, Isa?
A couple more pieces. I promised they’d be done tomorrow.
You should get some rest.
You should get some rest, Mom. I’ve got this. These two will cover groceries and electric.
Those bills haven’t come yet.
But they will.
A pause. A heavy sigh.
I don’t deserve this from you, Isa. I can always ask Mr. Horvath if he’ll give me a break on rent until I’m done with school.
Go back to sleep. I’ll be in soon.
I’d worked lots of nights like that, hands tired from the sewing, so she wouldn’t need to ask anyone else for help with the bills.
She never did go back to sleep, either—at least not until I did.
“Mom, you’re not moving. And if you ever do, Evie and I will be there to help you. Don’t worry.”
The silence tells me I’ve said the wrong thing.
“Mom?”
“I don’t want to go.”
“I promise you, it’ll all work out. I am handling this.”
“It’s too much, Isa.” Her voice breaks. “You’re always handling everything. I never should have retired. I never should have agreed to—”
“You should have retired, but you should do more than that. You should enjoy your retirement. You’ve worked hard, Mom.”
“Not hard enough. If I had—”
I stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “Don’t go back to this.”
“Back to what?”
“Don’t—don’t go back to second-guessing every decision you’ve ever made, Mom. We made it out of that apartment. We made it out of that neighborhood. And I’m going to keep you where you want to be. Don’t doubt it. In fact—” I steel myself for the lie. “I’ve made some real progress on financing the building. I should be able to buy it back from the developers, and you can stay as long as you want.”
“Oh, Isa, really?”
“Really.” I smile while I say it to try to make the word sound as genuine as possible. “I need to finish my run and get back to work, okay? Go back to bed. It’s too early for you to be up.”
“All right.”
I finish my loop around Central Park with her words ringing in my ears, but even before I’m out of the shower, the excited warmth is back in my chest. So I’ll figure out a few more things with Jasper. It’s not the end of the world. More complicated, maybe...
At headquarters, I stride in with my head held high. Angelique looks at me from her desk with wide eyes. “You’re on a mission.”
“Yes, I am.”
I open the door to my office.
In the middle of my desk is a big, white box tied with a ribbon the same color as Jasper’s eyes.
“Angelique?”
She’s instantly at my shoulder. “It came this morning, by courier. I had to give him a million forms of ID.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, but I’m not going to let a box slow me down. I move quickly to the desk, dropping my purse onto one corner and picking up the box. There’s a small card attached to the ribbon with two words: Surprise! -Jasper
I lift the lid.
I’ve been attending awards ceremonies long enough that what’s inside shouldn’t shock me, but it does.
Angelique hovers over me, looking into the box with a low whistle. “Wow.”
So much for keeping money out of this...
32
Jasper
My legs are burning, and my core is on fire, but I increase the speed on the treadmill one more time, my feet connecting hard with every step. It’s a reckless speed, almost out of control, I need a way to get some of this energy out of my muscles.
Otherwise, I’ll be insane by the time Isabella arrives later in the afternoon.
Thinking of her makes my heart pound in a crazy rhythm that has nothing to do with reason. It’s only love. The stupid, headlong kind of love that I felt as a teenager, only a thousand times more powerful. All I want is to be looking at her, listening to her voice, in bed with her.
Finally, finally, the treadmill beeps, signifying the end of the mile, and I slam my hand down on the stop button.
Done.
I spent the morning lifting weights, music on loud in the background, and fitting in as many miles as I could. I wonder what she’s doing right now. Probably relaxing in her apartment. Or, knowing Isabella, she’s sneaking into the office on what’s supposed to be a day off to work on something. She’s always working on something. She never feels like anything is done.
We’re kindred spirits, that way.
Yesterday, when she got into work, the first thing she did was call me. I was waiting in my office for my cell phone to ring.
“Hi.”
“You’re determined to make everything complicated, aren’t you?” Her voice rang with truth, but there was also a hint of a laugh.
I played the fool. “Complicated? By doing what?”
“I assume this white box on my desk is from you. I’m basing that assumption on the tag. It’s got your name right here.”
“You got me. I sent it.”
“Jasper.”
“What?”
“You cannot send me gifts like this.”
“Why not?”
“First of all—” Isabella sighed, but I’m positive there was a smile behind it. “This necklace is worth a fortune.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“I do like it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It’s worth a fortune.”
“Isabella Gabriel, you are the kind of woman who deserves extravagant jewelry. What if we were to attend another awards ceremony? I’d want you to have something nice to wear.”
She laughed. “It doesn’t have to be…you know what, never mind. Thank you for the gift, Jasper.”
“No, tell me.”
Isabella had dropped her voice then. “I want to be with you.”
“I know. I’m over the moon.”
“I don’t want to be with you because you can do things like…this.”
“I would imagine it has more to do with my unbelievable sexual prowess.”
Her low laugh made desire zing down my spine. “That, too. But I don’t want you to get the idea that—”
“That you’re after my money?”
“Yes.”
“But you are after my money…at least a little bit. My building, anyway.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“That’s all been decided,” I reminded her, teasing. “You’re mine. Your mother is safe. What more is there to do now, other than get the hell away from work and out of all these clothes?”
“How do you know what I’m wearing?”
“It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. I want it on the floor of my penthouse.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Then meet me there.”
“Necklace or not, I’m not cancelling another day’s worth of meetings for yo
u.” She hung up while I was still laughing.
I’m walking down the hall to my bedroom when my phone buzzes on my bedside table, the vibration loud enough for me to hear it even from outside the room. I rub one of the small towels I keep in the gym across the back of my neck one more time and pick up the pace. Isabella.
It’s an incoming call, not a text, and I snatch up the phone without looking at the screen. “Hello, gorgeous.”
“Lovely.” My dad’s voice is dripping with sarcasm.
All the invigoration from my date with the gym drains out of me. “What is it, Dad?”
“I’m calling to tell you that your secret’s out. You and that woman were plastered all over the tabloids this morning.”
I laugh out loud. “You think that’s the first time we’ve been in the press?” I flash back to the awards ceremony—the way we danced around each other on the red carpet, the way she leaned in to make it look like we were in the middle of some passionate affair instead of a business arrangement, what I did to her in that alcove, how her face looked when I turned on that vibrator. Those photos made waves, too.
“I know it isn’t. Last time I had to look at pictures like this, I didn’t know you were getting played by a gold digger.”
I roll my eyes. “She’s not a gold digger, Dad, and her name is Isabella.”
“Oh, Isabella. What a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.”
“What has she asked you for so far?”
“Nothing.”
He laughs, too hard and for too long. “Think again, Jasper. It might have started with something small, but she’ll be working her way up by now, if those pictures are any indication.”
I took her to dinner last night at a club, and the usual Friday night paparazzi were outside when we left. Both of us were laughing, and I swept her into my arms while we walked to the car. She upped the ante by crushing her mouth against mine, kissing me so passionately that it was like we were totally alone, back in the penthouse. Cameras flashed. I didn’t give a shit. Isabella is the only woman I’ve appeared in public with like that in years, and I don’t care if everyone knows how I feel about her.
“Or maybe it’s not that,” continues my dad, doing his best to sound thoughtful. “Maybe it’s something she’s asked you not to do. I’m sure it’s probably something that benefits her while you take a loss. Does that ring any bells?”
“No.” My answer doesn’t sound convincing, not even to me.
“I see how it is. Enjoy your Saturday, son. I’d advise you not to fall any deeper into this trap.”
He hangs up before I can answer.
“Fuck you,” I say into the stillness of the master suite. The phone lands on my comforter with a muffled thump, and I turn my back on it, heading straight for the showers.
I try my best to ignore the icy pinprick of doubt in the bottom of my gut.
This might have been about power and money and property in the beginning, but it’s not now. We’ve moved past that. Far past that.
Right?
33
Isabella
I press my hands into Jasper’s chest, bracing myself. His blue eyes are shining, locked on mine, and there’s a heat in his face that burns into my core. Holy shit, I love this. I love this so much.
I lift my hips again, drawing myself up as much as I can and lowering back down, hard, onto his cock. “God.” The word is a soft burst from his lips. His fingers tighten around my hips, and when I rise up again he adds his own strength to the thrust. I’m riding him like a madwoman, like I can’t get enough of him filling all the space inside me, stretching me still, and it’s because I can’t. I can’t.
When we’re fucking like this, everything else goes out of my head, leaving behind an electric hum of pleasure. God, do I need it. There’s a new fire lit under my ass these days, and it’s because of that stupid lie I told my mother. I spend most of my time focusing on the fact that it’s not a lie if I make it come true. I need to do it rather quickly, before anything else happens.
Jasper’s muscles tense, and he keeps me hovering above him, my pussy clinging to the head of his cock. The anticipation, even now, is so intoxicating that it sends a jolt of pure heat through my core. My head tips back, and I can’t stop the moans from coming out of my mouth. I don’t care. I don’t want to.
“Do you want more of this?” He growls the words, his voice a dark, sultry invitation.
I dig my nails into his chest. “Yes. Give it to me.”
He narrows his eyes, a possessive light flooding them. “What did you say?”
A shiver runs down my spine. “I said, give it to me.”
He sets his jaw. “Wrong answer.” Then he’s lifting me, turning me, pressing me onto the comforter on hands and knees, his hands running over the flesh of my ass. “Who do you belong to, Isabella?”
A gush of wetness between my legs. I need this more than I ever will care to admit. I’m not afraid of him—not really—but I crave what he does to me. I grip the comforter in my fists. “You.”
“And who decides what to give you?”
“You do.” My voice drops to a whisper, my entire body already revving up for what’s to come. I rock my hips backward, pressing my ass farther into the air.
I would never do this with another man. I’d never let another man do this to me. But with Jasper, it’s different. Everything is different. I’m going to make everything different—tie up all those loose ends.
But for now, I’m going to get punished.
And I’m going to like it.
His hand tenses against my ass, and I go still, waiting.
The stroke doesn’t come.
I groan in frustration, pressing the side of my face against the comforter, looking up at him with wide, begging eyes.
Jasper leans down, nipping my earlobe between his teeth. “I know what you’re doing.” His tone is all dominance. Wetness collects between my legs and starts to make its way down the insides of my thighs.
“I’m getting punished.”
“You’re baiting me.” The corners of his lips curl upward in a smile, and then he’s leaning in again, his breath hot on my ear, his lips hotter on the pulse behind my jaw. “You’re baiting me, trying to get me to punish you.”
“So what if I am?” The sentence is breathless. In these moments, I am that woman, and there’s no getting around it.
“You’re forgetting that I’m the one in charge.” He runs his palm over my back, between the cleft of my ass, and down between my legs. His fingertips move in slow circles around my clit, so sensitive already that the pleasure is an aching, desperate one. “I’ll decide when to punish you.” He rubs harder, and I move my knees apart another few inches. “You want it so badly that you’re willing to get punished for something worse than telling me what to do.”
“What’s—what’s worse than that?” I’m going to come, and he hasn’t even spanked me yet.
“Trying to trick me into punishing you. If you want it that badly, you should beg.”
I try to scramble upward, but the pressure of his hand keeps me on the comforter. More pressure, and my nipples make contact with the surface while his hand works between my legs. “I’ll beg.”
“Don’t move.”
My fingers curl around the comforter again, bracing, bracing, and he takes his hand away from my clit right as I’m about to tumble over the edge into another orgasm. I groan again, the sound escaping me.
“Don’t try to screw with me, Isabella.” His voice is still his dominant voice, but the sentence rings with another layer of meaning. If I wasn’t so focused on getting off, I’d stop this whole thing right now and find out exactly what he means. “Don’t try to trick me. I’ll always give you what you need. Ass in the air.”
I arch my back another inch, and his hand comes down against my bottom with a sharp crack. I cry out, but it’s more from relief than pain. The heat from the strokes combines with the molten desire in my core and oh, fuck, oh
fuck it’s good. It’s so good.
“Twenty strokes,” he says, and I push back into them, letting them rain down on me.
When the last one falls, it shoves me off the precipice. I don’t even need his fingers on my clit—I explode right then and there, coming hard, my legs trembling, struggling to hold myself upright. I’m still caught in the throes of it when he moves behind me, thrusting his length inside at the perfect moment to add a second wave. I’m gushing all over him. He fucks me with an animal power, his hips jerking as he follows me into sheer, hot pleasure.
We’re frozen together for a moment when he’s spent, and then he wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me to the side, tumbling onto the pillows.
“Damn,” he breathes, then kisses me softly on the swell of my breast.
My phone rings on the bedside table. “That’s right.” He laughs, low and soft. “Shh.” I’m not supposed to be with Jasper in his penthouse. I’m supposed to be at the office. I’ll head back there as soon as I finish this phone call. “It’s Isabella.”
“Isa? It’s Bernadette. Am I interrupting you?”
Not this time. “Not at all. What’s up?”
“I’ve found a way for you to buy that building.”
My heart leaps in my chest. “I’ll be right there.”
But before I go anywhere, I toss my phone back onto the comforter and give Jasper’s body a once-over. My entire core burns for him.
He grins at me and I pounce, straddling his waist and pinning his arms above his head.
“Right after I do this…”
34
Jasper
There’s no chance that anything is deeply wrong between Isabella and me—not after yesterday’s getaway to my penthouse. Not a chance.
So why can’t I set aside the creeping doubt that grows a little stronger with every quiet moment?
When she’s with me, I don’t see anything but her fire, her determination, her incredible wit. The way she looks at me with those big green eyes, begging for me to dominate her one minute and teasing me the next, is all I need for the rest of my life. At least, that’s what I think…until she’s gone, and my dad’s words start ricocheting through my brain.