Chapter Forty-Five
“No way.” Melanie gapes at Jaxon.
But he’s staring at me.
He’s gorgeous. So wrongly gorgeous. In a cloud-white button-down shirt, close-fitting powder-blue trousers, and white loafers. He looks fresh. Well fed. Well rested. All his daily vitamins dutifully taken.
As if he hasn’t a care in the world, he just stands there, his hands resting relaxed in his pockets.
It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he gets to look like the glorious morning sky while I’m standing here feeling like shite warmed over.
No one speaks for several moments. Silence stretches into ominous territory.
I break down first. “What is this?”
He says, “I need the key.”
Really?
Really?
Those are the first words he has for me? After everything? After all the pain I’ve endured, and all the longing from missing him, and all the misery I’ve wasted on him—those are the words I get?
Rage crawls up my chest with sharpened claws as I step from the lift and stalk haltingly into the room. “What. Is. This?”
“All right, that’s enough.” Markus pushes to his feet and straightens his jacket. “Timberly, Melanie, get back over here and sit down.” Before either of us can object, he adds, “Not a request.”
His tone brooks no argument. I’m still pissed as hell, but he still scares the bejesus out of me. So we get our arses back over there and sit down.
I do my best to ignore Jaxon. I just cannot look at him right now. Everything about him hurts like a razor blade to the heart.
Markus perches on his desk again, his attention on us. “Your Professor Brookbanks at college, remember him?”
“Of course,” Melanie answers. “He’s the one who introduced you to us.”
“Brookbanks is on my payroll. He scouts for me.”
“Scouts what?”
“Prodigies. Like you two.”
We’d kind of guessed that already, a long time ago. Why else would the U.S. government be interested in college kids? Markus knew everything about us from the beginning. We figured Prof. Brookbanks had told him everything he knew, and working for the government, Markus would easily have been able to find out anything else. Not exactly rocket science.
“Your point?” I ask impatiently.
“You weren’t aware of it, but I was training you all along. Your labs, the high-tech tools, and resources all came from me, as well as your contracts. I wanted to see how far your skills went, and you kept outdoing yourselves, you kept surprising me. I can’t say I have ever come across anyone as brilliant, ingenious, yet conniving and instinctual, as you two.”
A throat clears.
Jaxon.
Ha. Someone just got their ego bruised. A satisfied smirk slides onto my face, and I deliberately ignore him.
As does Markus, who continues, “When the time was right, I introduced myself in person. I got excited with each new invention you came up with. Oh, the things you could do. The assets you could be to this country. You were ready, overly qualified.”
Flattering as all this was, I was not hearing anything new. “Great. Thanks. But wha—”
He kept talking as if I hadn’t interrupted. “But you’ve only ever worked with each other. I wanted to see how well you could work with other people. How well you would do on long-term tasks outside the lab. Where you’d have to keep up facades and earn people’s trust, where you’d have to get close to people and not get attached.” He clasps his hands together, looking stoic and imposing. “And that’s where my son came in.”
I’m up on my feet before I even realize it, my eyes popping wide. “Your son?”
For the first time ever since I met him, Markus smiles. It’s sinister. “Ah, Timberly, I see I’ve caught you off guard. Yes, it’s true. Jaxon King is my son.”
“Whoa,” Melanie mumbles, clearly as taken aback as I am.
I turn my shocked gaze on Jaxon. He’s watching me. Zero expression. Zero emotion. He gives me nothing.
Nothing.
But, hey, what do I expect?
Obviously, everything between us before this very moment has been a lie. From the very beginning, I was being played. That bit about his parents being abducted and bombed in the Middle East? Lies. That bit about foster care? Lies.
Son of a fucking bitch.
Was the whole thing about him being in jail a lie, too?
“You’re not really an orphan,” I say as evenly as I can manage, taking my seat again before I fall over. My legs are shaking like aspens.
“Dad has a sick sense of humor.” Jaxon doesn’t even blink as he says this.
“Jaxon was a stubborn boy,” Markus supplies. “We began training him the moment he could walk. But the older he got, the more he wanted to do his own thing. He didn’t want to use his skills for good, he wanted to make himself a king. He fought and fought and fought our guidance, until he ran away at fourteen.”
“I’m sure Timber doesn’t care ab—”
Markus blithely cut off his son. “His mother suggested we leave him out in the cold, let him make mistakes and learn on his own. He went around telling people he was an orphan, conning, swindling, counting cards, picking pockets, sleeping with cougars. By the time he was seventeen, he was the king he wanted to be. But his throne had no solid foundation, so it toppled.”
Was I surprised by any of this? Not really. The man has an ego the size of France. “And I care about any of this, why?” I mutter.
Markus’s smile doesn’t dim an iota. “The bio I gave Melanie was not entirely false. Jaxon did do time…but in the comfort of his own home with a monitoring anklet. So, most of it was true, with only a slight twist of the truth here and there. Except the orphan bit—I throw that in his face sometimes. To remind him how much he hurt his mother and me by running away.”
I digested all that for a moment, my brain working overtime. What was the point of this big revelation? Where was he going with it? What did it have to do with me…other than showing me I’m a monumental fool? There had to be an agenda here.
I needed more facts.
I glare at Jaxon. “Did you already know who we were at Castellos Museum?”
He shakes his head. “No. I hadn’t been brought into the loop yet.”
“In Paris?”
“Yes,” he admits.
Therefore, a lie. A con. All of it.
I’d been deliberately set up.
“How did you know I would follow you?” I demand.
He stares at me.
I stare back. Waiting.
He sighs. “When Dad showed me your profiles, I remembered you. I told him you were the two girls outside Castellos the night I lost the key to the music box. That’s when he told me you had an eidetic memory, and that Mel was good with voices. He told me you were percipient and impetuous, so there was a 95 percent chance if you saw me, you’d follow me. Even so, I hadn’t planned on being set up by my partner.”
“Wait,” I say, confused. “That heist was real?”
Jaxon cocks a brow at me. “Very real. I was working two jobs simultaneously that night. You, and the heist.”
My heart shriveled with pain.
A job. That’s what I am to him.
Fucking. Job.
Melanie murmurs in disbelief, “You’re telling me that all this time we’ve been a part of a long con?”
With pure fire in my veins, I jump up and stalk across the room, stopping three feet from Jaxon. “Everything— Everything after Paris…it was all fake, right?”
For the first time since he entered the room, a crack appears in his veneer. He swallows. Hard.
“Right?” I bite out between clenched teeth.
Staring me right in the eyes, he says, “No.”
He’s looking me in the eyes. So, it’s got to be the truth, right?
Right…?
Except, this is Jaxon King. Liar extraordinaire.
For Jaxon to look me in the eyes as he punches through my chest to rip my heart out, it’s nothing to him.
Nothing.
An ugly noise reverberates in my throat. I punch his chest. “Do not lie to me!” I punch him again. “Admit it was all fake!” Another one. “Admit it!” And another. “Tell me it was all lies.”
Imperturbable, he remains cool and unmoved while I fall apart completely.
He watches me crumble before him while he stands tall and impervious, those frosty eyes shutting me out. “I can’t do that. Because it wasn’t.”
“Liar!” I scream in his face. “You are. A filthy. Goddamn. Liar!” I poke a steely finger to his chest. “It’s in your blood. It’s who you are.”
At that, his jaw tightens, pops. “Yeah. Okay. I’m a liar. Never claimed to be anything else,” he grits out. “But what about you? What makes you so different, so much better than me? Weren’t you doing exactly the same thing? Lying to me? Playing me? Tearing my house apart the minute I was out the door? How do you get off as the victim here? How do I end up being the villain and you the saint?”
Inhaling a sharp breath, I take an involuntary step backward. Because I don’t want to admit he’s right. Not to him. Not to myself.
How is it fair for me to judge him when we both went in with the same intentions?
Okay, so I grew attached to him. I grew to care for him. I became obsessed with him and the sex. But at the end, once I’d had my fill of him, all along I’d intended to leave.
If I were to pretend, just for a moment, that I was the only one pulling a long con and not both of us…wouldn’t he be the one with a broken heart right now?
The one betrayed, used, and abandoned?
Examining the situation through a pair of impartial glasses, the ugly truth is we are the same.
He blinks, and his face changes, as if he’s regretting his words. He takes a step toward me, reaching out as if to touch me. But then there’s a whoosh and a beep.
We all look to the lift, and his hand falls to his side.
A woman emerges. A woman I remember within two seconds. She has slender, long legs starting from her armpits, straight raven-black hair cascading down to her waist, a classy, below-the-knee blue dress clinging to every slight curve, and a Hermes handbag dangling from her wrist.
Bored hazel eyes sweep around the room, her high heels click-clacking on the marble floor as she approaches us.
It’s the same woman Jaxon had met at the Italian restaurant that morning we robbed the bank.
Is this his boss? Their boss? Markus and Jaxon’s boss, that is.
“How late am I?” she asks no one in particular with a diluted Italian accent.
“Jesus, Jaxon,” Markus grumbles. “You told her?”
“I didn’t.” Jaxon’s hands go up in defense. “She found out—don’t ask me how—and now, well, she wants them.”
“How does she even know about this meeting?”
With a shake of his head, Jaxon slips his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t about to piss her off. Do you want to piss her off?”
Markus huffs, and it’s the most human I’ve ever seen him. The look in his eyes says he most definitely does not want to piss her off, either.
“Are you two done talking about me as if I’m not in the room?” the woman asks, her challenging gaze locked on Markus, a smirk on her lips.
“Okay,” Melanie says, getting to her feet. “Can someone please give me the CliffNotes version of what’s going on here? Yes, we were trained and conned, but for what purpose? To what end? Why are we here? And who is this woman?”
Thank God for Mel. She always drills down to the essentials.
“Oh, my bad,” the woman says, turning to her. “Please, excuse my manners. I’m Alessa King. Doting mama to this handsome boy right here. Fang-baring wife to that scowling demon over there.”
His mother?
I cut a glance to Jaxon. As usual, his expression is guarded.
What on earth is happening, here? I’m sure every girl anticipates meeting the parents of the boy she fancies, but this is not only weird, it’s puzzling.
“So,” Alessa says, “which one is Timothy and which one is Marley?”
“Melanie,” Mel corrects.
“Timberly,” I add.
Alessa makes a face at me. “What kind of name is Timberly?”
Jaxon seems amused at my expense, but Markus looks as if he’s having a migraine.
When I don’t answer, she shifts her attention to Melanie. “You, I like. You are exotic. I could file my nails on those cheekbones.” Her gaze cuts back to me. “But you. I was told you are dating my Jaxon?”
“You were told wrong,” I grit out.
On a normal day, I’m a cheerful, nerdy, inquisitive, verbose human. But right now, I’m beyond irritated with this shite. I’m hurting, and feeling betrayed, and angry as hell. Barely holding on.
“You were late to this farce,” I say, “so let me catch you up. Jaxon and I are enemies, not lovers. I was merely a job to him, and he was just a job to me. That’s where it ends. Juliet moves on with her life, and Romeo can go hang himself with Rapunzel’s hair for all she cares.”
“Hmm.” Alessa looks to her son with a raised brow and back to me. “So, you gave your virginity to your enemy? How generous.”
Gaping, I glare at Jaxon. “Seriously? Your mum?”
Although he shrugs, he actually looks a bit sheepish.
“With the way he goes on about you,” Alessa says, “I was expecting to see a halo over your head, or at least a raving beauty.” She pauses to examine me, as if trying to find something, anything, appealing. “You do have striking eyes. Fine. I guess you are passable for a daughter-in-law. As long as you are fertile, I’ll get over the fact that I’m prettier than you. It’s about time we have some thieving grandbabies running around the house.”
Jaxon stifles a chuckle, pressing his lips together in an effort to hold in his amusement. He’s never looked more boyish. And from the way he’s looking at his mum, I can tell she’s his most favorite person in the world. I’ve never seen a more colorful love than the one I see in his eyes for Alessa.
I want to take umbrage at her words, but I can’t. Not when they’ve made Jaxon look so alive and…human.
Instead, I say levelly, “In that case, you’ll be elated to know I’ll not be the one to mother your grandbabies. I will have nothing to do with your son after this meeting.”
Alessa flat-out laughs in my face. “Poor girl, you say that as though you actually believe it.” She shakes her head. “You will learn. Whatever Jaxon wants, Jaxon gets.”
“Then it’s a good thing—” I start to say, but she holds up a hand, halting my words.
“Let us put an ellipsis on your and Jaxon’s impending future for now. There are more important matters to discuss.” She checks her bracelet watch and glances between Mel and me with a serious down-to-business expression. “Turn my husband’s offer down. I want you both to come work for me.”
“Excuse me?” Melanie asks.
I’m speechless.
“Goddammit, ’Lessa!” Markus barks, pushing off from his desk to reach his wife in two long strides. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t just hijack my meeting and try to steal my prospects!”
Jaxon starts backing away, clearly wanting no part of their argument.
“Oh, simmer down,” Alessa tells Markus in the most blasé of tones. “They are grown women. They can decide for themselves. Despite what you may think, you do not own the entire world.”
“You need to leave, ’Lessa,” he says, threat lurking in every crevice of his voice. “Now.”
She sighs. “Jesus, Markus. You work for the government. You have access to everything. You can easily find more prospects. Please, darling.”
“Easily?” he says incredulously. “You think it’s easy finding clean, eligible prospects with their level of expertise? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they’re British. That’s how not easy it is. I’ve been investing in them since they started college. What makes you think I’ll just allow you to waltz in here and steal them?”
She dips her chin and pouts at him. “Because I’m the love of your life? The only one who knows how to make you—”
“Damn it! That’s not going to work.”
Melanie sidles closer to me. “Are they seriously arguing over us as if we’re not standing right here?”
They ignore us and continue to bicker.
“If their son is keeping out of it, I think we should, too, yeah?” I suggest. Besides, my emotions are still so ragged, I’d no doubt say something I’d regret. Like screw you and your little dog, too.
She snickers, and I nudge her to follow me as I move around the kerfuffle and head for Jaxon. When we’re in front of him, I ask, “What the hell is all that about?”
A tiny smile curves his lips as he says, “Isn’t it obvious? Dad spent years fattening the cows, and Mom wants to be the one to slaughter them.”
If possible, I’m even more offended and hurt than before.
“You hear that, Mel?” I say without taking my condemning gaze from Jaxon. “We’re fattened cows now.”
Perching on the edge of the desk, he folds his arms defensively over his chest and sighs. “All I’m allowed to say about Dad is that he’s as close to the president as it gets. Everything he does is top secret. He lives and breathes for his country, and he’s in control of a plethora of covert operations. He wants to make you both a part of that.”
He shakes his head at his parents, then returns his attention to us. “As for Mom, her life is a little less…governed. She’s in the business of stealing stolen or lost valuables and returning them to their rightful owners. Much as you do but on a bigger scale. She works with royalty and governments from all over the world, celebrities and magnates, and museums. They come to her with proof of ownership for the item, and we locate it, take it, return it, and they pay us.”
“Us?” This from Melanie.
“Oh, right.” Jaxon snaps his fingers, but I think it’s more to underscore than anything else. “Mom’s the founder of the Unseen. She books the contracts, my team gets the jobs done.”
“Your team?” I frown at his unintentional slip, suddenly understanding what’s going on. “Who is responsible for putting the team together? Who says whether or not someone makes the team?”
He opens his mouth, a response ready on his tongue but then snaps it shut.
I thought so.
“It’s you,” I state. Not a question. “You’re the one who wants us. Not Alessa.”
“Ohh,” Melanie hiccups through a strained laugh. “Blimey. You’re—”
“Working with your mum to con your dad,” I finish for her.
Jaxon neither confirms nor denies this—big shock—but he shoots a dodgy glance over to his parents who are now close together, talking in quiet tones, as if coming to some kind of agreement.
Mother of dragons, what kind of screwed-up family is this?
Melanie tries to hold in her laughter. Of course, she’d find humor in this. She lives for these kind of head trips.
“Look at me being all upset that you conned me,” I drawl, shaking my head at Jaxon, “when here you are, conning your own damn father.”
Uncrossing his arms, he straightens up from the desk. “Listen, Timber, you don’t—”
“Markus?” I whirl around, determined to tattle on his son and wife, but before I can get another word out, Jaxon bands his arm around my middle, crushing me back against him, and covers my mouth with a firm hand.
Both Markus and Alessa swing toward us.
“Jaxon Alejandro King!” Alessa gasps in horror. “Take your hands off that girl this minute. Do not ever put your hands on a woman like that. I raised you better than that!”
At once, Jaxon lets me go, his hands held up in surrender.
I move a step forward, lest I go up in flames from being so close to him. Yes, I know. I’m totally pathetic.
“What is it?” Markus asks me.
“You’re being…” My words trail off when Jaxon stealthily hooks a finger in one of my belt loops and tugs me backward until my back hits his chest.
“What?” Markus prompts, impatient.
“Timber was just asking what kind of work she’d be doing for you,” Jaxon speaks up before I can. All the while, he’s caressing the small of my back. “I said the only thing I’m allowed to say—it’s classified. But apparently, that’s not enough for her.”
“Damn,” Melanie mutters under her breath.
Markus eyes Jaxon and me with suspicion but tells me anyway, “I cannot discuss specifics until you’ve signed a few agreements and been sworn in. But I can assure you, you will never be in harm’s way if you work with me. My wife, however, cannot promise you the same.”
“Hey now,” Alessa says. “No need to play dirty.”
Oh, the irony.
Jaxon’s fingers creep under the hem of my blouse, touching skin. They drag and scrape. They make swirls. They pinch and whisper.
God…
I want to turn around and punch him in the face.
I also want to turn around and kiss him.
I want to move far, far away from him, but my traitorous body won’t let me. It likes him too much. I’m so damn weak.
I grit my teeth and bite out, “Gee, Mel, you’ve got your wish. Turns out you don’t need to grovel for your spot on the team. It was yours from the start. Con-gratu-lations.”
She scowls at me. Pissed.
Good.
Before today, no one would ever use the word bitch and my name in the same sentence. Well, other than Jo. Hell, I didn’t even know how to go about being a bitch. But hey, crappy circumstances are making me someone brand new. And I can’t say I’m hating it.
Being a bitch is freeing.
“What are you talking about?” Markus asks.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” I ask innocently. “Mel already planned on leaving me right after this meeting to join your wife’s gang.” I smile coldly at Alessa. “You didn’t need to hijack this meeting, after all.”
Melanie snaps, “Put a sock in it, Tim.”
“Why?’ I fire back. “Are you having second thoughts? Thinking about working for Markus, instead? Oh, so many lovely options. So, so many.”
Her lips curl into a snarl. “Stop acting like this isn’t your dream, too. You’re taking your anger out on me, but it’s not me you’re really mad at, is it? I’m your friend. I looked out for you. I warned you not to get attached, and you went ahead and got attached, anyway.”
“Mel, shut—”
She spread her arms. “I shagged Jo every day and was still able to walk away from her without a second thought. Because I didn’t get attached. Cardinal rule when pulling a con—Keep your bloody emotions out of it! You want to take it all out on me, but I’m not the one who messed up. You did. The moment you chose to let yourself feel something for your target.”
“I don’t—”
She jabs a finger at me. “You think I didn’t know you were lying? I knew you found the music box a long time ago. I mean, how stupid do you think I am? But you didn’t take it because you were falling for him.”
I clamp my mouth shut because we both know she’s right.
“What if he hadn’t hurt you?” she demands. “Would we still be there? Would you still be lying to my face every damn day? You might’ve gotten your hand on the prize, Tim, but you failed the real test.”
I bite the inside of my cheeks until I taste blood. My mind is one big jumble of bad emotions, confusion, and misery. I have to get out of there.
Now.
“Enjoy your new family,” I say. And before I can stop myself, I draw my foot back and kick Jaxon in the shin. Hard.
On a grunt, his hands let go of me. I power-walk across the room toward the lift.
“What are you doing?” Markus demands.
“Leaving.” As if it isn’t obvious.
He growls, “See? This is precisely why I begged you not to get involved with either of them.” He must be talking to Jaxon. “Did you do it to spite me?”
I scan my badge.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Alessa says, sounding bored and impatient. “Can’t you just make her work for you?”
The door retracts.
“She’s a U.K. citizen,” he says in irritation. “I can’t make her. She has to choose to serve our country.”
I stalk into the lift.
“That was some gamble,” she mumbles. “Investing in non-U.S. citizens on the off chance they might want to join your team.”
“She lives here. Her entire family lives here. Her sister sure as hell isn’t complaining about how rich and famous this country has made her.”
The elevator door closes, muting their words.
Thank God.
I swing around in the lift. My gaze collides with Jaxon’s. Melanie’s standing next to him, as if they’re a team. Except that Melanie is glaring up at him while he’s smirking at me.
His smirk is almost victorious. As if to say, “I got your virginity, and now I’ve got your best friend. Nah, nah, nah.”
As the lift starts to move, he throws an arm around Melanie’s shoulders.
And he grins.