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I withhold a sigh of relief.
“But a friend of mine lives there,” Jackson adds. “On the same floor I think, too. Couldn’t get any good pictures, but he’s an English major, so he’s really great at painting a picture.”
Fine. He has me. “So what, this is blackmail? What do you want? The apprenticeship?”
“Hmm.” Jackson tilts his head upward in quiet contemplation. An act. He already has everything planned out in a tidy little spreadsheet if I know him. “That would be a good start.”
Here it comes.
I could give Jackson the apprenticeship. I could give him whatever he wants to silence him for the time being. But one payoff isn’t going to be enough. Once you drink from that cup of power, it’s never enough.
“Why should I even bother with this?” I ask. “You think me losing my job is going to break me?”
Jackson laughs, a terrifyingly cruel sound that solidifies my argument he’s a madman. “No. I’m not that stupid, Professor. Billionaire’s son destined to take over the family business when he finally grows up and stops playing teacher.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “You’ve got plenty to fall back on, but Aly doesn’t.”
So that’s the leverage he’s aiming for, what he’s been toying with all this time. Aly doesn’t need the apprenticeship anymore. I could give her anything she needs to fulfill her business plan. Jackson doesn’t know that, however. He thinks she’s still thinking small. The way he always has.
“In fact, not only might she lose the apprenticeship, she could be expelled,” Jackson continues. “And if we really want to play this right, we can make her the punchline of every late night comedy with one email to the tabloids. I’m sure that wouldn’t look good on her resume. I’m sure she wouldn’t resent your notoriety.”
A muscle in my jaw twitches.
I hadn’t thought about it that way. I’m used to the stupid things the online magazines say about me. I’ve grown up with our family in the papers all my life. I can handle the rumor mill in the elite forum, the circulation of stories and gossip that find my names in the mouths of resentful socialites more than I’d care to admit. I can handle all of it.
But Aly shouldn’t.
Even if she could handle their words, the snide remarks, I wouldn’t want her to experience it. And women always feel the full brunt of these things. Men get a stern slap on the wrists and, in some cases, a congratulatory slap on the back. The women are marked as whores and gold-diggers. I don’t want our relationship to start out like that. I don’t want this mess to be something she will eventually resent me for years down the line.
“So, you want money?” I ask, and set down the coffee mug. “Is that why you came to me?”
“Well, I tried to get to Aly, but she didn’t seem ruffled by the threats.”
Did he threaten Aly? She never said anything about it. Why wouldn’t she have told me? If I knew what was going on, I might have been more prepared to handle this confrontation. There must have been a reason she kept it a secret.
“I’m assuming that’s why she was here tonight, in your office.”
I shake my head. “There was no one in my office.”
Jackson pulls out his phone.
My heart rate sprints into a gallop. There’s no way he could have seen us. The door was locked. He couldn’t have taken any photos. Still, I’m near trembling with rage by the time he plays the audio.
It doesn’t take long to hear Aly’s voice on the clip. Her soft moans stream in through the phone speakers, faint but still discernible. At one point, she says my name and a lump forms in the pit of my throat. She couldn’t have been that loud. But she was loud enough to be captured on the soundbite. All the blood rushes from my brain into my face. My fists clench at my sides. I’m about to do something stupid if he doesn’t turn off the recording soon.
“I got some great audio,” he says smugly.
All the rage I’ve been holding back until now surges forward. I grab Jackson by the shirt and slam him back up against the wall. My arm pins him in place, nearly at his throat. This is the second time I’ve had to assault a man for Aly. But I can’t seem to control myself this time. I can’t even imagine what Jackson plans to do with the recording. No one could really be able to prove it was even Aly. I just can’t stand the thought of Jackson having that recording on his phone, of him hearing anything so intimate that belongs to Aly. Something expressly reserved for me.
“Delete it,” I snarl. “Every last copy you’ve made.”
Jackson laughs, despite still being pressed against the wall. His breaths come out shakier, the only indication he might actually be scared. “Lucky for you, I haven’t had time to send it anywhere else yet. So this is it.”
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Fifty grand and this all goes away.”
Fifty grand.
I couldn’t even hire a decent hitman for that price. In a way, Jackson’s offer is a steal really. This is why Jackson was destined to fail. He never thought big enough.
