Deep Domination (Bought by the Billionaire #2) (12 page)

He hated her, but he had enjoyed her today. He enjoyed her smile and her laugh and the way she looked at him with that wistful expression, as if she were wondering what could have been, if things had ended differently six years ago. It was insane, but those damned looks of hers and everything else that had happened between them in the past week had him wondering if maybe there was some sort of explanation.

Maybe she’d been forced into her deception. Maybe she’d fallen in with bad people and ruining him had been her only way out. Maybe the thing with Clay had been a way to keep her sanity, soothing herself with one man while she prepared to destroy another, and his death was purely accidental.

He knew people who forced others into situations like that now. Drug dealers who forced their girlfriends to become drug mules. Bookies who cut off a little girl’s fingers, one by one, when her father failed to pay his debts in a timely fashion. Fathers who sold their own daughters into sexual slavery to solidify an alliance with a rival cartel.

He had no idea where Harley had come from or who her parents were—not even the best intelligence men had been able to pinpoint her origins—but there was a chance she’d come from a rough home life. She could have been born into some dark vendetta against his family and had no choice but to play her part.

Six years ago Jackson hadn’t been the kind of man who ended up on a hit list, but his father certainly was. Ian Hawke had more than his share of enemies, from former business partners he’d ruined, to politicians he’d blackmailed, to women he’d used and discarded with no concern for the hearts he’d broken. And if someone didn’t know his father well, they might have thought the best way to get to Ian was through his son. Most parents would take on any amount of suffering if it meant sparing their children pain, and Ian Hawke did a decent imitation of being that sort of man when there were witnesses around to observe.

In truth, Ian was more concerned about the embarrassment of having a son in prison than the fact that Jackson had been convicted of a crime he didn’t commit. Ian hadn’t even bothered hearing Jackson’s side of the story. As soon as the arrest hit the news, he’d publicly disowned his son and Jackson knew if he hadn’t already reached the age when his trust fund was in his control, Ian would have confiscated that as well.

And without that start-up money, Jackson would never have been able to capitalize on the connections he’d made in prison or become the self-made criminal he was today. There would have been no way out for him, no future but scraping by working the kind of jobs convicts were allowed to work, lingering on the fringes of decent society.

Maybe Harley had been in a similar situation. Maybe she’d had no choice, no other way out. Maybe he at least owed her the chance to explain herself and say something more than “I’m sorry.”

But even if she had an explanation and was truly sorry, did that go anywhere close to excusing what she’d done?

She’d framed an innocent man and gotten away with it. The fact that Jackson wasn’t innocent anymore didn’t matter. She had redefined his life and turned him into something the polar opposite of the rule-following, honor-bound, decorated Marine he’d once been.

Was there any way to get past that?

He didn’t know, but it was time to put the games aside and cut to the heart of the matter. He would give her the chance to be honest and if she failed the test, they would move forward with a new set of rules, one that involved no kindness, no dignity, no rewards, and no mercy.

They arrived back at the house just as the sun was setting. Jackson walked Harley to the sliding glass door to her room, but stopped on the patio, not following her inside.

“Are we still having dinner?” she asked, gazing anxiously up at him, making it clear she could sense that the unresolved shit between them was swiftly coming to a head.

“We are,” he said, his voice scratchy with disuse. He hadn’t spoken a word in well over an hour. He’d been too lost in thought. “You’ll find a dress and new shoes in your closet. Meet me in the dining room when you’re ready.”

“All right.” A smile flickered across her face only to disappear just as quickly. “Then I’ll see you soon.”

Jackson nodded before spinning on his heel and circling around the side of the house, heading toward the servants’ quarters. He needed to speak with Adam before things went any further with Harley. He needed to be sure the alternative lodging arrangements for his prisoner were ready if they were needed.

There was a chance that he and Harley would both be sleeping in her big bed tonight, but there was an equal chance that she would end the evening in accommodations more fitting for a monster.

Monsters didn’t deserve clean sheets, a soft mattress, or second chances.

Monsters deserved pain and a strong cage to contain them while they suffered.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hannah

Hannah showered quickly, but took the time to blow dry her hair and curl the ends into ringlets with the fat curling iron she found under the sink.

In addition to the stunning strapless red maxi dress, with layers of chiffon over-skirting she knew would become something magical in an ocean breeze, she’d found delicate gold sandals in just the right size and a bag of high-end make-up waiting for her in the closet. She wasn’t sure who had chosen the clothes and cosmetics, but the dress fit her like a dream and the bronze and pink hues were the perfect shade for her skin.

By the time she was finished dressing, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her in the mirror. She was stunning, every bit as beautiful as Harley had ever been, but with a vulnerable look in her eyes that betrayed her swiftly softening heart.

It was time to face the truth. She wasn’t her twin and she would never be hard enough or clever enough to pull off this kind of deception. Even if she could figure out exactly what Harley had done to Jackson, there was no guarantee she could find a way to make amends or help him heal. And she wanted to help him heal. The more time she spent with him, the more certain she became that he hadn’t deserved what Harley had done to him, and it wasn’t a side effect of Stockholm Syndrome to want to help a victim recover.

Sometime between this morning and tonight, she’d become certain that closing herself off wasn’t the answer. She could fight the connection she felt to Jackson tooth and nail, but the end result would be the same. She was going to keep falling for him, and continue to crave his touch until the day they put her in the ground. Her best chance of surviving with her heart and soul intact was to tell him the truth, the whole truth, and throw herself on his mercy.

He still had some left inside of him. There was a good man buried beneath the hardened mercenary. She had glimpsed it today and a dozen other times since they’d arrived on the island. Now she just had to hope there was enough of that good man left to forgive her for lying to him.

“All you can do is try,” she whispered as she started down the hall from the bedroom. She walked through the now empty kitchen and into a stunning great room with vaulted ceilings, plush couches and chairs arranged in cozy conversational groupings, with a pool glittering at the center of the room.

It was a gorgeous space and for a moment she couldn’t help imagining how much fun she and Jackson could have in a room like this if all the ugliness between them could be put away. Images of her kneeling at Jackson’s feet by the pool, both of them naked in the water, or entwined on one of the soft couches flashed through her head, but she pushed the erotic images away. She had to keep her wits about her and dwelling on how much she wanted to be with Jackson—really be with him, not as Harley, but as herself—was the kind of distraction she didn’t need.

Following the scent of something grilled and lovely smelling, she found her way into the dining room, but the large polished wood table was empty and the bay doors leading onto the front lanai were open. Outside on the redwood decking a table draped in white linen was set for two, with a gently sweating bottle of champagne, a water carafe filled with lemon slices, fresh flowers, and two silver dome covered plates.

But she couldn’t focus on the lovely table for long, not when something far more beautiful stood on the other side, framed by two flickering tiki torches fitted into the lanai railing.

Jackson was facing the sliver of sea visible at the end of the lane, his broad shoulders relaxed and the wind ruffling his still damp hair. His white dress shirt and gray suit pants fit him perfectly, accentuating the power of the body beneath the elegant fabric. The contrast of the civilized clothing and the dangerous man who wore them was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, reminding her that there were more barriers to a way forward for the two of them than the ugliness of the past.

This man was a criminal, an unrepentant predator, maybe even a killer.

But even as the thought flitted through her head, she dismissed it. She couldn’t imagine Jackson killing. He’d said that he had respect for life. Just not hers.

Or not
Harley’s
.

She pulled in an anxious breath, ready to get this over with, to scatter Jackson’s expectations and see if there was anything left worth saving between them once he realized the truth. She crossed the freshly stained planks to stand at his elbow, feeling very small beside him. She barely came up to his shoulder. She hadn’t noticed the height difference that much until now, when so much was riding on her being strong enough to find a way to get him to understand.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat she parted her lips to speak only to have Jackson turn to her and bring one finger to press against her mouth.

“Not yet,” he said. “We’ll get to that part, but first we’re going to enjoy the food Eva prepared.”

Holding his gaze, marveling at how much deeper she could see into his soft brown eyes, she nodded. They were going to tell the truth, both of them, but something unmistakable had already been confessed.

He felt the pull between them, too. He felt it, and perhaps once her true identity was revealed, he wouldn’t feel the need to fight it.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, setting her nerves to tingling as he moved his hand from her mouth and stepped back to let his gaze drift up and down her body. “Perfect.”

“You too,” she said, shivering, amazed at how much he could make her feel with just a look.

“Cold?” He nodded toward the house. “We can go inside if you’d rather.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not cold. It’s lovely out.”

“Then we should eat while the food’s warm,” he said, leading the way to the table and pulling out her chair.

She settled in, the back of her neck prickling with awareness when Jackson’s hands lingered on her bare shoulders for a moment before he circled around the table. On the way to his chair he plucked the silver cover from her plate and then his own, revealing a perfectly cooked medallion of filet mignon, surrounding by freshly grilled potatoes and vegetables.

At the sight of the steak she smiled. “I had a feeling you were a red meat kind of man.”

“I thought we deserved something decadent.” He sat, reaching for the champagne and pouring her a glass. “And this is part of your reward, after all. I assume you enjoy still-mooing meat as much as you used to.”

She hesitated, torn between continuing the ruse for a little longer and dropping her bomb now. But Jackson was right, they probably wouldn’t have much of an appetite after the truth came out, at least not for a while, and she was starving, even if she had always preferred fish to red meat.

“Steak is perfect,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Then bon appetit, princess.” He draped his napkin into his lap, claimed his silverware, and proceeded to dig into his meal with the grace of a man who was accustomed to eating in high-class restaurants with civilized people.

He was such an odd and compelling mixture of conflicting traits. It made her want to ask questions, get to know more about him.

And why shouldn’t she? She was too close to sharing her secret to worry about giving herself away by asking things Harley should know.

“I know we’re not talking about anything too serious until after dinner,” she said, as her knife eased into her steak like the meat was made of melted butter. “But I’d love to know more about what you were like growing up. What did you enjoy aside from playing jewel thief and CIA agent?”

Jackson shot her a skeptical look as he chewed, but when he’d swallowed his first bite, he replied more frankly than she’d expected. “I enjoyed soccer, football, chess, and staying out of my parents’ way as much as possible. My mother didn’t have much interest in parenting and my father and I didn’t care for each other. That’s why I applied to military boarding school as soon as I turned thirteen. And from there I went straight to West Point.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You went to West Point?”

“Graduated top of my class, and was one of only two graduates to be commissioned into the Marines instead of the Army.” He frowned. “I’m sure I told you that the day we toured Quantico.”

“I’m sorry, it must have slipped my mind,” she lied, impressed. And even more confused. West Point and service in the Marines.

How had he gone from there to here?

“What about you,” he said, stabbing another bite of steak. “What were you like as a child? Aside from determined to change your name?”