AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That wasn’t a random statement. It didn’t feel random.”
Suffocating in this topic, I yank at my tie and pull it loose. “There’s always been talk of a ghost in the castle. A woman in red. That’s why my mother wore that damn red dress and red in general. She wanted us to focus on what was real. You’d think that made her a good mother, but ironically, she made the red dress all about the past and a damn ghost of a woman.” I shrug out of my jacket and toss it on the couch. “I need a drink.” I walk into the kitchen and round the corner to a small bar area where I unscrew the lid on a ridiculously expensive bottle of whiskey that my father left me. I’d been saving it for a special occasion. This isn’t it, but it’s an occasion all right.
Emma appears beside me. I fill a glass and down the wickedly smooth whiskey. Papa North knew how to make it right. Irefill the glass and offer it to Emma. “It’s thirty-thousand-dollar whiskey. A gift from my father. His own special batch, an aged limited edition.”
“Jax, if that wasn’t your mother—”
“It wasn’t my mother.” A tight knot forms in my chest. I down the whiskey I’d offered her, the burn washing right past it, but it’s still fucking there. I refill yet another glass, but this time, I press it into her hand. “Drink.”
“Then it was someone who knew about the red dress, someone who knew I’d think it was your mother.”
“This is a very special bottle. It’s a very special bottle that I swore I’d share with no one, but I am with you.Drink.”
Her eyes go wide, and she sips the whiskey. “Oh my,” she says. “That is—it’s good.”
“Yeah. It’s good.”
“Jax—”
“Brody. Jill. Half the staff. They all know about the red dress and the ghost.”
“There’s more to this, Jax. I was told two people had a motivation to kill your brother. I don’t even want to say the name but you aren’t asking either. Why?”
“Brody,” I say. “Which is ridiculous. I’d have to die for him to inherit.” I sip the whiskey and set the glass on the bar counter. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Jax, please listen.”
I step into her, tangling my fingers in her hair. She smells sweet, like vanilla and honeysuckle. I love the fuck out of how she smells. “They’re trying to scare you away. Are you going to let them win?”
“Maybe it’s you someone is trying to scare,” she warns, grabbing my shirt. “Or maybe they want to hurt you, Jax.”
There’s a dark pulse of emotion inside me that needs to go away. “Then I guess you’d better hold on tight,” I say, and mymouth closes over hers, my tongue licking against her tongue, heat, anger, an old bleeding wound, all colliding in this moment.
She shoves on my chest. “Jax.”
“Clearly, you need another drink.”
“You need to listen.”
“Youneed to drink.”
“I don’t drink well, remember?” she challenges. “The way you don’t listen well, apparently. What are you doing right now? Why are you putting this wall up?”
“You can drink,” I say. “I’ll take care of you. You have me now.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of.”
“Too bad, I’m going to do it anyway.” I down the whiskey and set the glass aside. “I’mgoingto take care of you.” My mouth lowers a breath from hers. “And I’m going to enjoy every fucking minute of it.”
“Then I’ll take care of you, too,” she whispers. “That means you listen to me now.”
“After,” I say, and I claim her mouth again, my tongue caressing deep, my hand sliding up her back and molding her to me. She resists, stiff in my arms for a moment, before she moans, sinking into the moment, into me. Submission. That’s what I want. It’s what I fucking need right now. Her. Not this bullshit family drama that just won’t go the hell away. I need to bury it, deep and far, where it’s already been buried, and I’m doing that now, with her, inside her.
I catch her dress and drag it up her hips, cupping her all but naked, perfectly round backside and giving it a squeeze. She moans again, and I nip her bottom lip. “That’s the kind of drunk I want.”
“Jax,” she whispers, and before she can push me to talk again, I turn her to the bar.
She catches her weight on her hands, and I unzip her dress, my hand sliding to her belly and lower, under the thin slice of lacethere. My lips are at her ear as I stroke her clit. “This is what I want,” I say. “You, Emma.” I squeeze her breast, and when she pants and catches my hand, I turn her to face me, shackling her legs with mine.
