Marin

I stood in the dimness along the edge of the room, finger-picking at the see-through material of my dress. As much as I wanted to hate it, I couldn’t. The dress was by far the most extravagant thing I’d ever owned, and despite the circumstances of the evening, I felt amazing. I’d seen more than a few wives direct their husband’s wandering eyes away from me. I’d also seen Jasper making his own eyes in my direction. I did my best not to take it personally.

Jasper belonged to a class of people who found pleasure in possessing something other people wanted. That extended to his ridiculously expensive car, and now, to me. I was nothing more than an object to him, and I would do well to remember that. Even worse, I was a tool. He only wanted me because I would soften his image. If only I could tell someone about our arrangement so we could have a good laugh about the irony of Jasper blackmailing me into helping him with his public image.

The gala was being held in the lobby of the fine arts museum. Endless white walls reached towards the skylight in the ceiling, priceless works of art dotted the space, going unnoticed by the party’s guests. A long neon-lit bar had been set up in front of a Manet, and I couldn’t help but think the entire event was a little sacrilegious. Especially since half of the guests were grinding up against one another on a light up, checkered dance floor.

A hand on my exposed lower back made me jump. “I brought you a drink,” Jasper said, handing me a champagne flute.

“How do I know you didn’t drug it?” I asked, grabbing the glass from him and tipping it back.

“At the rate you’re tipping back drinks, I won’t need to drug you.”

I’d had a few drinks, but I was nowhere close to drunk. Having a drink in my hand made me feel less nervous. Jasper had introduced me to a few people as his girlfriend as soon as we’d arrived, and suddenly I was being quizzed on how we’d met and what “our song” was. It was too much. I’d decided the night would be much easier to handle if I saw it all through a thin haze of alcohol. So far, I was right.

“I’m fine,” I said, taking a few steps in a straight line to prove it.

Suddenly, the glass was out of my hand and sitting on the table, and Jasper had his arm looped around me, pulling me towards the center of the room.

“Hey,” I said, protesting slightly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, still looking straight ahead at the dance floor ahead of us. “I thought you were walking towards the dance floor.”

“Well, I wasn’t. You can let me go stand in the corner again,” I said, half-turning back to my hiding spot along the wall.

Being a wallflower was really what I’d always been best at. I’d gone to winter formal my junior year of high school and been scarred ever since. My date ditched me for one of my best friends, and I spent the entire evening watching them rub their genitals together under the disco ball, trying not to cry.

“My girlfriend would want to dance with me,” he said, a gentle reminder of the role I was supposed to be playing.

I sighed. “Fine, but if you reel me in on your imaginary fishing line, I’m leaving.”

We were standing in the middle of the room, and I felt countless pairs of eyes on us. The music had switched to a slow country song, and Jasper slid his arm behind my back and pulled me up against him. He smelled like firewood and cinnamon, and I resisted the urge to bury my face in his chest and take a deep breath.

We swayed back and forth, his large hand wrapped around mine, his other hand gently pushing into my lower back, guiding me in the right direction.

“This isn’t so bad, right?” he asked, whispering in my ear.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I ignored it. “It’s bearable.”

The truth was, Jasper was a spectacular dancer. He wasn’t showy the way some of the other men were, twirling their partners around as if they were rag dolls. He led with a dignified kind of ease that spoke to his confidence. Even though our relationship was entirely fake, I enjoyed the jealousy rolling off of the single women who lined the floor like spectators.

“You know, I regret the way we met.”

Jasper’s voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I looked up at him. That was a mistake. Under the party lights, his eyes looked like perfect pools I wanted to dive into. A shadow cut across his cheekbone, making him look even more chiseled than usual, and his suit was molded perfectly to his body. He reminded me of professional soccer players post-game – all the muscle and athleticism of an athlete with the wardrobe of a male model.

What had he said? I looked down at our feet, and with his annoyingly symmetrical face out of sight, I remembered. “Yeah, witnessing a murder wasn’t high on my to-do list.”

Jasper leaned in closer as if trying to block the sound of my voice with his body. “Perhaps we shouldn’t say things like that in public, sweetheart.”

He squeezed me tighter to him, and I got the message. I nodded, a silent surrender.

“I just meant,” he said, taking a deep breath as if the words pained him. “You seem nice, and I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

I wanted to believe him, partly because it would make pretending to be his girlfriend easier and partly because he looked so good saying it, but I knew I shouldn’t. I had no reason to trust Jasper Black, and he had every reason to try and deceive me. I didn’t know how to respond, but I was saved the trouble of thinking of a response by a tap on my shoulder.

I turned to find an incredibly tall man towering over me, his mouth pulled back in a villainous smile. “May I cut in?”

“Uhmm...” I turned back to Jasper, unsure what to do.

Jasper’s mouth was set in a straight line. He looked like a guitar string that had been stretched too tight.

“One song?” the man asked, tilting his head to the side.

Jasper squeezed my hand tight, winked at me, and walked away. Though, I noticed he didn’t stray too far.

The man spun me into his arms and danced as far away from Jasper as he could.

“You are Jasper’s girlfriend?” the man asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

Something about the man made me uncomfortable. Everything about him felt like a challenge. For whatever reason, he felt he had power over me, and I didn’t like it. I stepped away from him ever so slightly, putting more distance between our bodies.

“Who are you exactly?” I asked.

He smiled. “That isn’t important, Marin.”

The distance between us suddenly felt insufficient. I didn’t even think an entire ballroom between us would be enough.

“You seem to know who I am. Knowing your name would only be fair,” I said, hoping my discomfort didn’t show.

“I’m sure Jasper will inform you later,” the man said, tugging me to him until we were chest to chest. He bent down and pressed his lips against my ear. “I like your dress.” He swiped his hand down my spine, and then spun me away from him in the direction of Jasper. When I turned around, he was already off the dance floor and headed for the exit.

Jasper was at my side, guiding me towards the tables along the edge of the room. “What did he say?” he asked.

I jerked my hand away from him, tired of being directed around the room. “I can walk,” I said.

He held up his hands in surrender. “What did he say?” he repeated.

“Nothing.”

Jasper stopped and looked at me. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” I repeated, annunciating each letter. “He asked if I was your girlfriend and said he liked my dress.”

This answer seemed to satisfy him. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Why? Who was he?”

“No one.”

I stopped walking. “No, we aren’t going to operate like this. I need to know what is going on, and what I’m risking.”

His shoulders heaved with nervous energy. “I’ll tell you when we’re in the car,” he said, casting a glance around the room.

I noticed a few couples watching us. I couldn’t know whether Jasper was telling the truth, but he wouldn’t talk about anything illegal in front of all of these people, so I had to trust him.

As we stood outside, waiting for the valet to bring Jasper’s car around, he kept spinning on the spot as if he were looking for someone.

“You’re making me nervous,” I whispered.

He stilled, and then crossed and uncrossed his arms.

The valet was young, no older than college-aged, and he got out of Jasper’s car with a wide grin on his face. “This is an amazing car, man,” he said, handing Jasper the keys. Then he looked at me, his eyes roving slowly from my high heels to my breasts.

Jasper didn’t say anything as he took the keys and opened the door for me. I slipped inside, grateful for the dark tinted windows.

“So, who was that?” I asked as we pulled away, merging with the traffic.

Jasper chuckled. “You are eager.”

“That man knew my name, and he didn’t seem like the neighborly type. I deserve to know if I’m in danger.”

“First things first,” Jasper said, “you are not in danger. That guy is a joke. He is all bark, no bite.”

“Who is that guy though?”

“He’s the leader of the Jagged Jackals.”

I waited for him to explain further, but after a few seconds, it became clear he wasn’t going to expand. “Is that a motorcycle club?”

Jasper glanced at me and then back to the road. “Yeah, it is. Sorry, I sometimes forget you don’t know about this world.”

“Hey, don’t make me out to be the weird one. You are the one sentencing people to death and blackmailing your girlfriend,” I said. Throughout the evening, it had been easy to separate the businessman Jasper from the MC leader. Now, though, the line was beginning to blur.

Jasper laughed. “Weird is subjective, I guess.”

“What was he doing at the gala?” I asked, trying to get back on topic.

Jasper breezed through a yellow light going at least fifteen over the speed limit. “You know the body you saw last night?”

Last night? Had it really only been twenty-four hours? “Yeah.”

“He was a member of the Jackals, and I’m sure Angel didn’t appreciate me killing his guy.”

“His name is Angel?” The man was the furthest thing from angelic.

“It’s a nickname. A bit ironic.”

Just then, Jasper got into the far-left lane to whip around a slow-moving car in front of us.

“Hey, that’s the turn to my house,” I said, turning in my seat to watch as the interstate ramp disappeared behind us.

“You aren’t going back to your house.”

“Yes, I am.” I turned to him, my dress riding up my thigh from all the shifting in my seat.

He shook his head. “Angel was making a threat tonight. He could be following us, and I don’t want him to know where you live.”

“So, do I just never go home? And what about Kayla? She’s home alone.”

“Kayla is fine,” Jasper said, a touch of unexplained annoyance in his voice. “And you’ll go home tomorrow. It’s just too dangerous tonight.”

“So, am I going to a hotel?” I asked, though I felt I already knew the answer.

“No.” Jasper turned north towards the Woodlands neighborhood. “You’re going to my house.”