Say My Name (33 page)

“Sit down.”

I sit. Legs together, hands in my lap, eyes down.

“Look at me.”

I draw in a breath and lift my head, prepared for whatever lashing he’s about to dole out. But where I expect to see retribution on his face, I see only concern. “You’re not in trouble, Syl,” he says gently. “But I am worried.”

I feel myself relax immediately. “I didn’t think about the security cameras. And then when I remembered—well, I never thought that you—that anyone—would see that.” Not entirely true. I knew the guys in security would, but none of them would have sent the picture to Damien without telling me first.

“I doubt I would have had it not been for the
Scandal
story. I pulled the feed myself.”

“So this isn’t wide?” I realize only as I say the word that I’d been half-worried that this was fodder for some second
LA Scandal
story.

“As far as I know, no one’s seen it except me and Nikki. I found it at home. She was with me. I’m sorry about that.”

“No, it’s okay.” I run my fingers through my hair, not really sure how I feel about any of this other than horribly embarrassed and incredibly unprofessional. “You should know that—”

Once again I cut myself off. I’d been about to deny, but deny what? That Jackson and I are involved? We are. That it has nothing to do with the resort? It does.

Finally, I settle on the generic. “You should know that although I’m incredibly embarrassed that you’ve seen that, it doesn’t negatively impact the resort. Not my dedication to the project or Jackson’s.”

“I’m going to say this only once—I believe you. But if it turns out I’m wrong, I’ll take you off the resort and put Trent on it so fast your head will spin.”

I squeeze my fingers together. “I understand.”

“That’s not my primary concern, though.”

“There’s no policy against intra-office dating, and—”

“Dammit, Sylvia.”

I freeze. “Sir?”

“This isn’t about policy. This is about you.”

I wait, not sure where this is going.

“You’re a good employee, but you’re also a good friend. I understand men like Steele, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I—oh.” I draw in a breath.

“I don’t trust him. I’ve given him the benefit of the doubt about the Sykes footage, but the key word there is
doubt.
”

“I understand. But I believe him.” The latter is not entirely true. Because right now I’m not sure. I want to believe that Jackson wouldn’t do that—wouldn’t use our time on the island to gain some leverage against the project. Against Stark.

I want to believe it—but there’s the damn memory card filling my head.

That, however, is not something Damien needs to know, and I feel a little sick. Both from my rising anger and worry, and from the simple fact that I’m keeping secrets from my boss.

Damien’s smile is thin. “I know you trust him. And now we’ve circled back to why I’m worried about you.”

He moves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “We’ll drop it now. But, Syl, I’m going to pay attention. And if I think that he’s using you as a way to get to the project—or if he’s doing anything to hurt you—I will destroy him. I protect my employees, Ms. Brooks. And I also watch out for my friends.”

I nod, moved by the words, even though the concern behind them scares me. Because between my knowledge of the memory card and the doubt that Damien has planted, my thoughts are spinning. I rise, ready to get out and get my head clear.

“One more thing before you go. It’s possible my father is part of this.”

“Your father?”

“He’s meddled in my business before, pulled in the gossip rags, manipulated things for his own benefit.”

I nod. I know well enough that what Damien says is true.

“And he’s the type of man who would pull strings from behind the scenes.”

“You think he’s getting information from someone here?” I frown, remembering that Jeremiah Stark had been at the documentary screening. Evelyn said he was on the National Historic and Architectural Conservation Project’s board, just like Michael Prado. Did that mean he knew Jackson? And even if he did, so what?

I start to mention the connection to Damien, but decide against it. The truth is there is no connection—just my mind turning in conspiratorial circles. And until I ask Jackson, there’s no reason to mention a thing—although those damn doubts of mine are now buzzing around like gnats.

“I think it’s something to think about,” he says, “but don’t think too hard. Focus on the work, not the scandal. That’s just noise, Sylvia.”

I nod. From his perspective, he’s right. From mine, I need to ask Jackson about the scandal—and about that goddamn memory disk. And even about Jeremiah Fucking Stark.

“I leave in just a few hours. I don’t like going away when someone is fucking with my company.”

“I know how to reach you if anything else happens,” I say. “Or if we learn anything concrete.”

I manage to remain calm and professional throughout the rest of our meeting, going over travel arrangements with Damien, things that I need to handle for his desk or pass off to Rachel.

By the time I leave, though, I’ve pent up so much worry and fear that I’m about to explode.

“What’s the matter?” Rachel asks, but I wave the question away. I need to update her on a lot of things, but that is just going to have to wait. Right now, I need to talk to Jackson.

I find him on twenty-six, in the corner office which is the only fully finished area on this floor. The rest will be built out over the next few weeks to provide additional workspace for any draftsmen or other staff that Jackson needs to bring in on the project.

There is also a reception desk just outside the office for Jackson’s overprotective secretary. Right now, she’s still in New York, but Jackson has already said that he may bring her out and keep his New York office temporarily dark while he’s on the West Coast.

I remember the way she kept him from me when I tried to make an appointment. This time, there is no dragon to get past, and I shove Jackson’s door open and burst into his office.

He’s standing at a drafting table, and looks up, surprised, when I blow in.

The room is a mess. Papers scattered everywhere, boxes tilted on their side, and I cannot tell if this is the chaos of moving or if Jackson has done a number on the room himself.

I suspect the latter, and that only rekindles my temper and fears about that memory card.

“I should have known.” My voice is harsh yet controlled. Too controlled. “You told me. You told me this was about revenge. I thought you meant me. But all this time, you’re trying to get back at Damien?”

He lifts a finger, and holds it toward me, his face so tight that I know he is fighting not to explode. Frankly, I know the feeling.

“Do not start with me,” he says. “Don’t you burst in here and tell me that you believe what that son of a bitch is saying.”

“Goddammit, I trusted you. Desperately. Intimately. You can’t fuck with trust like that, Jackson. You just can’t.”

For a moment, I think I see hurt flash in his eyes. Then there is only cold calculation. “What exactly do you think you know?”

“The memory disk? That bullshit about a screen saver. You used me.” I feel my eyes burn, and for the first time in my life I’m grateful that I cannot burst into tears. “You fucking used me. And why? So you can make Damien look bad?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jackson says very slowly. “And as for trust, I’m not seeing a lot of it from you, either.”

I take a deep breath and try to calm my temper. “Fine. Okay. Fine.” I drag my fingers through my hair and try to regroup. “Do you know Jeremiah Stark?”

“Stark’s father?”

“Damien thinks that his father may be behind some sabotage at the company.”

I try to read Jackson’s face, searching for knowledge, but I see nothing but confusion, and I’m relieved.

“Why?”

“It’s happened before. I can’t get into the details, but I’ve seen a lot, and I’ve seen that man do some pretty reprehensible things, and the fact that Damien’s his son only makes it worse. I mean, fathers should protect their kids, not use them.”

Jackson takes a step toward me, but right then, I do not want his compassion. I’ve let my own shit slide into this conversation, and that is not somewhere I need to go.

I lift my head, steeling my resolve, and ask him point-blank, “Are you working with Jeremiah Stark?”

He stops cold, and the gentleness I saw in him a moment ago vanishes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Stark was at your documentary,” I say. “I saw him. And now I want an answer. Do you know him? Are you working with him?”

“I am absolutely not working with Jeremiah Stark,” he says, and I believe him.

I still don’t know what to think, though. I know what I saw with the memory disk. I remember what Trent told me about Jackson researching the island before he was even offered the project.

I think about all that—and I don’t know what it means.

“So what’s going on here?” Jackson says. “Is your boss firing me?”

I shake my head. “No. There’s no proof.” I meet his eyes. “Damien doesn’t know you took the memory disk.”

“I took the disk because I wanted a picture of us. I already told you that.”

“Yeah,” I say. “That’s what you said. You also said you wanted revenge.” I draw in a breath. “The truth is, I don’t know what’s going on, Jackson. But the bottom line is that I’m not letting you fuck up my resort because of some vendetta you have against Damien for some land deal that happened five years ago.”

“I guess you know what you know,” he says coldly.

“I know I need to be careful,” I say. “I know I need to be smart.” I’m afraid, so very afraid, that I’ve opened myself too much to this man. That I know better than to let myself trust. And that now I am paying the price.

“Then
be
smart,” he says. “Because if you use your head, you know that I would never, ever put this project in jeopardy. My reputation means too much to me.
You
mean too much to me. Everything you’ve told me? Every part of yourself that you’ve given me? Do you really believe I would violate that trust?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, and feel as though my heart is breaking. “I just don’t know.”

“No? Well, you should.”

“Jackson.”

“Go,” he says.

“Jackson, dammit, we need to—”

“Right now, Sylvia, I need you to leave.”

Right now, Sylvia, I need you to leave.

The words cut through me, hot and horrible. They’re my words, the ones I said to him so many years ago. And for over an hour they fill my head as I shower and redo my makeup in the women’s locker room.

When I can’t use that as an excuse for hiding anymore, I go up to my desk on twenty-seven and try to get some work done on the resort, hoping that poring over details will leave no room for my thoughts of Jackson.

But considering the project for the day is dealing with the FAA about the small landing strip, my mood has not improved much by the time I push my work aside so that I can walk down the hill to the offices of Bender, Twain & McGuire, where Cass is meeting Ollie for her franchise planning meeting.

I’ve been to this office dozens of times with Damien, so I’m not surprised when Cyndee, the receptionist, tells me to just go on back to the small conference room. The blinds are closed, and I feel a stab of guilt as I realize that I’m running five minutes late, and the meeting has started without me.

I tap on the door, then let myself in, my apology dying on my lips when I see Jackson sitting next to Cass.

Across the table from them, Ollie looks up. “Sylvia, we’re just getting started. Help yourself to a cookie,” he adds, pointing to the familiar tray of cookies and Danish, which is my favorite part of coming to meetings at this office. The snacks are awesome.

I grab an oatmeal-raisin cookie and take the seat next to Cass so that she is a buffer between Jackson and me. I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look his way. I can’t look at him and be certain that I can keep my shit together. And this meeting is too important to Cass to allow my personal problems to mess with my head or her deal.

Despite her nerves and her fears, the questions that Cass fires at Ollie are good ones. I’m impressed with Ollie, too. I’ve never worked directly with him, but I do know that he was in the litigation department for a while, and I’d been a little concerned that he wasn’t going to be up to speed on the ins and outs of franchising. But he knows his stuff, and he not only runs Cass through all the moving parts that need to happen to get her set up, but he’s also incredibly patient with her questions and doesn’t fall back into legalese.

Jackson’s no doormat, either, and he interjects a number of points to clarify what Ollie has said or to ask for further explanation. He’s so helpful, that despite my still raw nerves, I’m grateful that he’s come.

“So I’ve given you a lot to consider,” Ollie says as the meeting draws to a close. “Your homework is to think about bringing in investors. It will reduce your risk substantially, but also reduces your overall equity position. It all boils down to risk and reward. And control,” he adds. “Right now, you’re the only face of Totally Tattoo, and you have been for a while. Think about whether that’s something you’re willing to give up.”

“I will,” she promises.

We say our goodbyes, then head for the lobby while Ollie goes in the opposite direction to his office.

“Thanks so much for coming, you guys,” Cass says, giving me a hug. Then she turns to Jackson and gives him a hug as well. “You’re as awesome as Syl said you were.”

“Am I?” Jackson says, looking over her head to me.

I bite my lip, realizing that this is the first time they’ve actually met. And also realizing that I haven’t yet had the chance to bring Cass up to speed on the most recent drama.

“Zee was totally irritated that I couldn’t meet her right after work, so I’m going to go try to catch up with her for drinks. You guys want to come?”

I shake my head. “I’m meeting Wyatt for a photography session. And I need to run home and change and get my camera first.” I’d thought about canceling when Nikki left a voice mail, excited to learn that Damien was taking her to New York tonight. But the truth is, I haven’t spent enough time behind the lens lately. And right now I’m messed up enough that the idea of forgetting everything else except form and light and composition is pretty damned appealing.