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For the much-needed distraction, I clicked to my favorite gossip blog, escaping into the lives of celebrities gone wild, and when I began to scroll I came across a familiar name that had always been a quiet source of fascination for me. I paused, staring at the headline just beneath his picture.
Jaxon Blackwood.
He was a name that had gaining increasing attention over the years. He was a very rich man who had inherited a great deal of money but had used his knowledge to increase that original amount at least a hundred times over through a number of wise investments, business deals as well as his own software corporation. I never really paid attention to the details of his professional affairs though; I was more interested in the gossip train that surrounded him.
Sugar Daddy or Devoted Boyfriend
I gazed at his picture and found myself lost in those deep brown eyes for a moment. He was a good-looking man. Really good looking. The kind of man who plagued your dreams at night and left you feeling wet and needy when you woke up in the morning. In his early thirties, he was devilishly handsome. With dark hair and a dark well-trimmed beard, he looked like the type of man who liked to be in control. More important, though, he looked like the type of man who could take care of a woman.
Rumor was that he liked things like that. Some of my favorite blog entries talked about his relationships with women, that he liked being a sort of sugar daddy for them. He dated a range of women with all sorts of incomes, but there was one common theme to all the threads that talked about the breakups.
He liked when a girl was naughty and liked to deal with it in the bedroom.
Earlier this year, I’d had the opportunity to meet him once and he was every bit as handsome as his picture. He was kind and when I’d stumbled in my heels when I’d walked by him, he’d been the one to catch my arm and steady me. I remember the moment his eyes had met mine, full of concern and something else. We’d only exchanged a few words, but I’d remember them forever.
“Are you alright, little girl?”
“Yes. Thank you, sir.”
“Perhaps a shorter pair of heels next time.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“See that you do.”
His returning smile had made my mind go to places where it most definitely shouldn’t have that night.
I’d fantasized about him ever since.
My hand faltered as an idea suddenly came over me.
Jaxon Blackwood was a man with money and means. Maybe he could help me. There were plenty of rumors through the grapevine that he was something of a powerhouse himself. I’d heard his name mentioned many times in the Esposito inner circle and even outside of it.
Perhaps he could rival my father and stop this awful arranged marriage from ever happening in the first place.
In seconds, a plan began to formulate in my mind.
I glanced outside my window. It was past seven o’clock and it already dark outside. I pushed myself up from my desk and walked over to my bedroom door. As quietly as I could, I turned the lock. Then I grabbed my remote off the nightstand and switched on the television, turning it to one of my favorite movies so that if anyone walked by the room they’d think I was inside. Without hesitation, I strode over to my window and opened it wide, looking out at the backyard. My room was on the first floor of the house, which would make this easy.
This wasn’t the first time I’d snuck out of the house. I knew what I was doing.
I quietly sat on the window ledge and lowered myself to the garden beneath it. I was dressed in jeans and a dusky gray sweater, which would be hard to see in the growing darkness. I followed the line of the house, making sure to dip below each window until I reached the back corner where the fence line was closest to the building. I glanced up and made sure no one was watching before I made a mad dash for the entryway to the side garden. Once I was safe from prying eyes, I climbed over the much shorter five-foot brick fence using a nearby tree in order to make my escape.
Once I was free of my family home, I walked hurriedly down the street and called my best friend Ashleigh. Her mom was a world-famous designer and now she was putting together her own line to show to the world. Her name was featured on many of the gossip blogs too, but I knew the real her and she knew the real me.
“I need to see Jaxon Blackwood,” I said as soon as she picked up the phone.
“Oh?” she asked curiously. “Are you finally brave enough to ask that hottie on a date?”
I could feel myself blushing at her words. This wasn’t the first time I’d talked about him.
“No,” I lied.
“Liar, liar. I know you just want to ride his face,” she accused me playfully.
“You know him, right?” I asked. This time I ignored her teasing, and she giggled quietly because of it. My face felt red hot as I waited for her to reply.
“He’s a friend of the family, yes,” she answered evasively. She was enjoying this maybe a bit too much.
