“Yeah, you almost look as depressed as Jackson did all through dinner. He kept glancing at your empty chair like a little lost puppy. He flat out ignored the red-head and fled as soon as it was socially acceptable,” Alex says.
“What did he say to you after we left?”
“It’s clear we have unfinished business, but I didn’t have the energy to hash out our old wounds, so I left.”
“Didn’t? Past tense?”
“Perceptive as always, Dee,” I answer.
“Let me guess, you need a jump somewhere,” Alex says mildly amused.
“If you’re offering,” I smile.
“Come here,” he gestures for me to walk into his embrace. “Where are we going?”
I tell him the address and point out the window – we can just about make out Jackson’s building from here.
“Hold tight,” he grins.
A second later and a sensation that feels a little like being pulled through a tornado stomach-first, we silently appear on Jackson’s expansive roof terrace.
“Call me if you need a return trip,” Alex says before vanishing in front of my eyes.
The silence and cool night air wrap around me, and suddenly I’m apprehensive, nervous and just anxious to get this over with so we can move on.
I look around the roof terrace, with its expansive pool and sleek lounge furniture, the faint blue glow from the underwater lights illuminating large potted plants and a doorway leading to the penthouse below. It’s locked, but that isn’t an issue for my telekinesis, which makes me believe Jackson will have other security measures – such as surveillance – in place.
He knows just how powerful supernaturals can be, so he’s not going to rely on a human lock to protect his home. By the time I’ve walked down the shiny modern staircase, I expect he already knows I’m here.
I walk down a short hallway that opens up into a spacious open-plan living space. The furnishings are lighter and more modern than I would have expected. The room is dark except for the ambient glow from outside, gently filtering in through a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows across the large corner sofa, the dining area with its twelve chairs and art gallery worthy stone and glass dining table. At the opposite end of the living area is a sleek kitchen, a chef’s dream that probably doesn’t get used all that much, judging by its immaculate condition.
Soft yellow light from an adjacent hallway floods the kitchen space, highlighting the light marble countertops…and the woman wearing nothing but a man’s unbuttoned shirt walking in from the hall and opening the fridge.
Sonya.
My stomach bottoms out and all the air leaves my lungs. My brain scrambles for a logical explanation as to why she’s here…and naked…and clearly just been fucked, judging by the bed-hair.
Surely he wouldn’t have?
If he knows me better than anyone then he must know how devastated I’d be if he went off and fucked Sonya right after saying that to me.
“It’s not like you haven’t walked in on me naked before,” her harsh voice pulls me from where I’ve been frozen; I’ve been standing blank-faced and shaking long enough for her to spot me.
I can’t do this.
I can’t be here with her smug face smiling her superior satisfaction at me. Not while my heart breaks all over again. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to talk to Jackson about us earlier, but I genuinely believed we had a tomorrow.
Not if he’s fucking Sonya, we don’t.
Without saying a word, I turn and head back towards the small hall that leads to the roof terrace staircase; I need out of here ASAP.
“Wait,” she sighs at my retreating back. “Jackson will never forgive me if I let you walk out of his life again because you think I fucked him. And trust me when I say, my life won’t be worth living if I’m the reason he loses you. Back in college, he was powerful, but there were other Avidites he had to answer to and who I could keep sweet. But now, for all intents and purposes, Jackson is the man in charge. The growth of his company these past few years has given him even greater wealth, power and a very broad reach. He has influence and he’s not someone I want to piss off.”
“Firstly, I’m not in his life and if he cares as much as he claims, then why is he fucking you? Secondly, he knows there’s animosity between us so why the hell would he agree to be your maker, knowing it tethers you to him forever. If the man loved me, he wouldn’t have done that. And thirdly, you’ve been antagonistic to me for years, if me walking out somehow puts you on his shit list, then the universe is doing me a solid because you deserve some karmic retribution. I hope you both have a nice life.”
I turn my back on her again and storm towards the hallway once more, pulling out my phone to message Alex so the can jump me home.
“He’s not my maker.”
I stop so abruptly I drop my phone on the floor.
“What?”
“Jackson isn’t my maker, an Avidite called Ben is.”
Somehow, I manage to conceal my complete relief.
There was just something so gut-wrenchingly soul-destroying about the thought that Jackson could be involved in her life so intimately that he was happy to turn her.
“Okay. Still doesn’t explain why he would fuck you after the things he said to me earlier.” Unless I’m so utterly mistaken and Jackson doesn’t want me?
“I’m in a relationship with my maker, Emilia. Ben and I live in Miami and are only in town to visit friends. Jackson and Ben have been friends for about fifty years and that’s how I met him. Ben’s in bed down the hall, where I left him and I don’t know where Jackson is – asleep in his room or beating the shit out of a punching bag would be my guess.”
“You’re in a relationship with someone called Ben?”
“Yes, have been for years.”
“Then why were you Jackson’s date this evening?”
“Because he was afraid you’d be at the gala. He was angry and confused over what happened with his cousin, but still in love with you. He was a mess trying to reconcile such polar emotions. I offered to accompany him because I knew it would piss you off and keep you away enough for him to get through the evening.”
“And he went along with that, knowing it would hurt me to see you both together?”
“Not everything is about you, Emilia. Tonight started out about his self-preservation, not about being spiteful to you.”
“I can’t have your connection with him constantly thrown in my face. Whenever we’re together, you’re always around.”
“What connection? I’m not with Jackson. I love another man and we live on the other side of the country. Jackson isn’t my maker and Ben and I only see him about once a year. You need to get over yourself. I get that you needed to break free and live your own life, but you seem determined to selfishly insist on everything being on your terms. Relationships don’t work that way. There needs to be compromise. You need to meet him half-way and show him that you deserve the love he’s held for you for over a century. People make mistakes. They aren’t perfect…and neither are you.”
With that, she walks off towards the hallway she came from and that’s when we both see Jackson standing there in nothing but a pair of gray sweat pants.