I'm pretending not to be tired.  Like the weight and pull of sleep isn't a constant battle tonight.  Every day after seeing the doctor, it's like this.  Well, every day for the past five years except today.  Today will be the exception, because of Jake.  He makes me smile, and just smiling reminds me I still have so much left in me. 

"I'm really happy you do this for me," I tell Jake, pulling the blanket around my shoulders a little tighter.  We're having a picnic in the backyard overlooking the hill.  The spring air brings a strong scent of lilac and I breathe it in.  As much as I can, and for as long as I can.  

This is what living feels like.  

"The soups were perfect," he comments and adds, "I didn't know it'd get this cold at night." 

"The summer nights are warmer," I tell him easily and then feel embarrassed.  Of course they are, I think inwardly and my stomach stirs with nerves. 

"We'll have to do it again in summer then."

The nerves turn to something else and they spread higher up to my chest at Jake's words.

"I'd really like that." I almost whisper the words and then have to clear my throat.  As he picks two blades of glass, no doubt to whistle with them again like he showed me earlier, I take a chance. 

"Maybe even before summer?" I ask him and lean close to nudge his shoulder with mine.  Just a nudge, then I sit back upright, but he's quick to nudge mine against his. 

"Definitely before summer too."

Time passes and the sun sets too quickly.  I know time is almost up, and that's so bittersweet.

"Are you really sick?  Like... like, sick sick?" Jake's question pulls the smile from my face in a single swoop.  And the nerves settle back in my stomach.  I pick two blades of grass, thinking maybe I could whistle too.  But instead I let them fall, and the wind takes them. 

"The doctor said I was sick years ago..." Instead of letting any bit show of what I felt that day Mama cried and cried in the car, I actually let out a small laugh.  It's only a huff of laughter. Even though I'd like to pretend I'm not affected by the pain of the memory, my eyes gloss over.  

"Why are you laughing?" Jake sounds truly concerned, and I'm quick to put a reassuring hand over his.  That small moves changes everything.  The electric spark, the sudden heat.  I'm quick to take my hand back. 

"Sorry, it's just a little joke I tell myself," I explain, shaking off both the memories and the touch with a quick sip of water. 

"What do you tell yourself?" he asks skeptically as I set the cup down.  I can't take my hand off of it as I nervously peek at him and answer, "That I'm invincible."

His smirk is slow to form, but it grows quickly, turning into a grin. "I like that."

His smile is contagious, and I find myself telling him, "I like that you like it." 

I'm still biting down on my bottom lip and hoping I'm not blushing too hard when he looks me in the eyes and responds, "I like you, Emmy.  I think I more than like you."

Three days came and went. I got lost in the pages of The Coverless Book, falling in love with both Emmy and Jake, rooting for them as he fell in love with her and she with him. I spent all of yesterday checking in with my patients at work before Aiden told me that wasn’t what my leave was for. I spent every waking hour trying to occupy my thoughts and time. All so I wouldn’t think about Jase Cross or my sister, and every moment in the months that I lost her.

Every moment I wish I could have changed.

Between the two, I thought about Jase the most. Because it felt better to think of him than her. Choosing pleasure over pain.

Three days went by, and I thought of him every morning and every night. I started to think I’d made it all up because I didn’t hear from him, not one word. Not until this afternoon when I got a text from a number I didn’t know, giving me an address signed with “J.” Followed shortly by the number of hours we’d already spent together. Eleven. I imagine he must’ve included the time he was in bed with me. One hundred dollars every ten minutes, six hundred dollars an hour, so I’ve barely made a dent in the time I owe him.

And I haven’t gotten anywhere. I have no new information that sheds light onto what happened to Jenny. He says he didn’t do it; I already knew The Red Room was a place for drug deals and a criminal hangout.

Nothing new. Time is stagnant and I can’t hold on much longer. I can’t rely on someone who isn’t coming through.

I made it down the long winding path around the massive estate and parked in the back where Jase told me to; I made it all that way without breathing.

Maybe that’s why I feel faint as I shut my car door, the thud echoing in the depths of the thick forest I stared into only days ago. The dark greens are covered by a slight dusting of white as the snow falls gently, creeping into the crevices of everything.

Pulling my scarf a bit tighter, I take the steps one by one to the front door.

Answers. I will get answers. Even if it’s only one question at a time. He has to know something.

The bite from the wind creeps up quickly as I raise my fist to knock on the door, only to hear a beep and a click before I even touch it. Someone else grants me entry. He already knows I’m here.

Warily, I push the large, carved wooden door open, and it glides easily with the softest of pushes.

Thump. My heart slams as I remember the last time I gazed at this wood, but the engravings were upside down as I dangled from Jase’s shoulder.

It’s only been days, but it feels like everything’s changed.

The massive foyer greets me with warmth, but not much else. The lighting of the wrought iron chandelier reflects on the shiny marble floor, radiating wealth with the spiral staircase, but that’s all this room contains. It’s empty and even in the warmth, even coming in from the blustery weather, it’s cold in here.

Click.

The door shuts behind me, and the small sound startles me. My quick gasp echoes in the room.

Clenching my fists, I inwardly scold myself. Pull it together.

He’s only a man. A man with answers. A man who will bring me justice. Justice Jenny deserves.

A man who is not here. I have no idea where he is. But I’m alone in the foyer.

My lips purse as I breathe out, letting my heavy bag drop to the floor. It’s topped with the weighted blanket Jase left.

My gaze moves from window to window, to the heavy front door.

I can’t help but to test Jase’s statement. That the doors are locked on the inside and there’s no way out. Something about Jase makes me feel like he wouldn’t lie. Like he doesn’t make threats, only promises of what’s to come.

I think it’s the severity of his presence. The confidence in his banter. Everything is always just so with him. It’s how he wants it to be, and everything is exactly that. How he wants.

It’s the impression he gives me and that impression is why I pull off my gloves and shove them in my coat pocket. Gripping the knob with both hands, I turn and pull. I yank it harder when it doesn’t give, feeling the stretch in my arms from tugging on an unmoving door.

Huffing the stray hair out of my face, I glance up at a small black square, smaller than the size of a sheet of notebook paper. It’s digital. Whatever lock he uses, it’s digital.

“Fingerprints and hand scans,” Jase’s voice bellows from the empty hall behind me, forcing me to whip around to face him, my hand on my chest. “That sort of thing,” he adds, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Jesus fuck,” I gasp with contempt. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

My heart thumps a yes, my core clenches with affirmation and my gaze drifts down his body, agreeing with the two of them.

He’s not wearing a suit today. And he looks damn good in his perfectly fitted suits. In jeans and a t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, showing off those corded muscles in his arms… he’s doing that shit on purpose.

Swallowing down my heart, I try to relax again. “Just testing what you said…” My explanation dies in the air as he stalks closer to me with powerful strides and in a dominating way that almost has me stepping back, bumping my ass into the door. Almost, but I hold my ground.

“Well then, I’m relieved you weren’t leaving already,” he comments, the words spoken lowly as he stops right in front of me.

The air between us crackles like a roaring fire.

How does he do this to me?

“I like it better when you’re an asshole,” I speak without thinking. I’m rewarded with a charming smile, and a deep rough chuckle.

“I’ll remember that, cailín tine.” Holding out his hand, he commands me, “Come.”

As I reach for my purse, Jase leans down, grabbing the handle before I can. His blanket is in plain sight on top and before I can speak, he comments, “You could have kept it with you; it may help you sleep.”

One step in front of the other I follow him, with only the sounds of our footsteps keeping us company while I try not to think too much about what he said and why.

He doesn’t care about my sleep.

He doesn’t care about how I’m feeling.

He wants to get his dick wet. He wants to tie me up and do with me what he wishes.

All of this is simply to keep me amenable.

Jase Cross may have the upper hand, but I’m doing this for me.

The echoes of my footsteps get louder in the narrow corridor as I think, I’m doing this for Jenny.

One step, one beat of my heart, one tick of the clock.

I have my questions lined up in a pretty row. Without warning, Jase halts and unlocks a door, but how? I don’t know. It simply clicks the moment he stops in front of it and with a flick of the handle, it opens.

I’ve never seen wealth like this before. And I imagine it shows in my expression, judging by the smug look on Jase’s face when he opens the door wider and says, “After you.”

“Where would you like me?” I ask him the moment he opens the door and I step in before taking a look. “Oh,” I murmur, and the word leaves my lips without my conscious consent.

The click of the door closing behind me is followed by a dull thud of a lock, some sort of lock, moving into place.

My belly flips in a way I don’t understand. Almost like when you’re driving down a hill too fast, or on a roller coaster. The anticipation of the fall, the sudden drop of reality making your stomach somersault.

As I spot the table in the middle of the room, that’s exactly what I feel. Followed by the same exact cold prickling I remember so well from three nights ago traveling along my skin.

“What do you think?” Jase asks me, and at the same time he reaches up to my shoulders to take my coat. I anticipate the feel of his fingers trailing along my skin as he does, but he’s careful not to touch me. I think he does it on purpose.

I think he does more things with intent than I first realized.

“It’s not at all like your foyer,” I comment and then drag my eyes back to the wooden bench in the middle of the room. It’s at odds with the large plush carpet that takes up most of the space. I have to look out further to the edge to note that under it is a barn wood floor, or something like it. A darker wood, with wide planks. The cream rug is the brightest thing in here, and thank goodness it’s large. Even with the three chandeliers at varying heights with a mix of iron and wood, the room has a soft, airy feeling. Dim and romantic even.

As my coat falls off my shoulders, I take a half step forward and touch the wall. It’s a thick wallpaper in a damask cream, but it’s darkened by the blood-red pattern within it.

Besides the bench and a matching dresser, there’s a whiskey-colored leather chaise lounge and a white crystal fireplace that would certainly be the focus, if not for the wooden bench dead smack in the center of it all.

With the flick of a switch from behind me, I hear the gas turn on and the fireplace roars to life. Jase’s hand is still on the switch when I peek behind my shoulder.

I dare to step forward and touch the edge of the wooden bench, noting it’s lined with padding upholstered in a soft black leather.

“It’s beautiful. It’s primitive and raw. Elegant, yet seductive in a way that borders on decadence.”

He doesn’t respond to my comment, although his eyes never leave me as I walk around the table. “The wood won’t catch on fire?” I ask him, remembering how the flames felt like they consumed everything. I’ve never felt so alive.

“It’s for fucking, not fire play.” Jase’s words come with authority and a heat that could match that raging from the fireplace behind me.

My lungs still as I’m pinned by his gaze. “Is that what you think you’ll be doing today?”

Thump, thump, thump. The pace picks up.

“I think you’d enjoy it and my temperament hasn’t been… appropriate. I’d appreciate a good fuck.”

“I can say no,” I remind him, feeling the warring need to give in, to have it all, and to keep my head on straight.

“You could.” His dismissive nature would piss me off if it weren’t for the way he looks at me. Like he can see right through me, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to see me.

“I don’t fuck every man I find attractive. Even if I’m willing to admit,” I pause a moment, wondering if I should say it out loud. It brings the truth to life when you speak it, but he already knows. This cocky bastard is well aware of what’s between us. “Even if I’m willing to admit there’s chemistry between us and I like what you do to me. If it weren’t for the fact that I have questions and a debt you’re holding over my head… I wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

The heat sizzles between us, although the nerves rack through my body. He intimidates me. Maybe it’s something I hadn’t admitted to myself before, but in this moment, as he stares down at me, making me wait for a response, I’m so sincerely aware of how much he intimidates me.

“Business then?” Jase asks with an arched brow; his expression doesn’t hold a hint of emotion, or amusement. He’s a man in control and nothing more.

Standing toe to toe with him, I swallow as I nod. “It’s business.”

“I have the first question, you have the next.” He speaks as he turns his back to me and strides to the dresser, laying my coat over the top of it. He stands there a second too long. The silence is only broken by the pop of the fire to the left of him. The bright light sends shadows down the side of him, and when he turns around those shadows make his jawline seem sharper, his eyes darker and every inch of his exposed skin looks taut and powerful.

He exudes raw masculinity.

“Strip.” He gives the command and whatever hint of defiance had come over me flees in an instant.

I have to lean down to unzip my leather boots, then slip them off. I’m ashamed to say I put more effort into this outfit than a woman with self-respect would. The dark denim skinny jeans take a little more effort to shimmy out of, and all the while Jase stands there with his muscular arms crossed in front of him as he leans against the dresser, watching in silence.

I can’t even look at him as I second-guess everything in this moment.

I’m not a whore, but that’s exactly what I feel like. I can’t pretend it’s anything else.

When I’m left in nothing but my silk undershirt and lace bra, both covered by an oversized, cream cashmere sweater, Jase’s steps destroy the distance between us. It only takes three steps until he’s in front of me, his hands at the hem of my sweater. I’m quicker than he is, my hands wrapping around his powerful wrists. My arms are locked and my nails nearly dig into his flesh as I glare into his prying gaze.

“I can do it myself,” I say, pushing the words through clenched teeth.

“I’m paying very well for this time with you. I intend to enjoy every minute. If you’d like for it to stop, you know how to tell me just that.”

There’s no reason I should feel a sudden stab of emotions up my throat, drying it and tightening it. Or the hollowness that grows in my chest.

“It’s just business, isn’t it?” he questions and with another thump of my treacherous heart, I release his wrists, waiting for him to undress me like he wishes.

Whore. Whore is the first word that comes to mind, and how I made it this long without feeling like one is beyond me.

“May I ask a question then? I know you have yours first, but I’d like to ask one, if you’ll … allow it.” I keep my tone professional as I can, holding back the desire to smack my hand across his arrogant, handsome face.

Jase doesn’t touch my sweater. Instead he walks around me to stand behind me, leaving only the fire for me to look at. His voice hums a “mm-hmm” behind me. His chest is so close to my back, I can feel the vibrations of it, even if he’s not touching me.

“Are you looking in to who did that to my sister? If she owed anyone anything?” My words waver in the air and I wish I could hold them steady. I wish I could sound as strong as I feel on my best of days. Not in this moment, not when I’m acutely aware that I’m whoring myself out to this arrogant bastard who could be using me, lying to me and toying with me just for his own sick pleasure. All so I can chase the ghost of whoever hurt my sister. Whoever took her from me.

“I already told you I was.” His answer is clear and lacks the arrogance and dismissiveness he’s given me so far today. I don’t have to ask him to expand on his answer, since he does that himself. “Her death has caused ripple effects. When I have a name and a reason, you will too.”

I can’t help that I flinch when he lays a hand on my shoulder. I can’t control the way I feel, and I struggle to hide that from him.

I’m so alone. In a room with this man I’ve been thinking about for days, I feel so fucking alone. Maybe I made the memory of that night more than what was actually there.

I stare at the flames lingering among the pure white crystals. I let them mesmerize me and tell myself I don’t have to go through with this. I don’t have to rely on Jase Cross.

But the alternative crushes me; I can’t risk never knowing what happened and having to say goodbye without giving her justice.

His left hand finds my hip and he rubs soothing circles there over the sweater. Which only makes me hate him more until he lowers his lips to my ear and whispers, “Does it make a difference to you… if I admit I feel that chemistry too? That I have a desire to be near you?”

With a gentle kiss on my neck, that hard wall around me cracks and crumbles.

“It’s no longer only business for me, cailín tine.”

His words are a soothing balm. One I didn’t realize I needed. My hand covers his, and I lean back into his chest, where he holds me. This man holds me because he wants to do just that. And I lean into him, because I want to do just that.

“I like it when you touch me,” I whisper into the room, hoping it will keep my secret.

“And I like touching you,” he says softly and runs the tip of his nose down the back of my neck, causing my eyes to close, my head to loll to the side and the pain to drift away slowly.

I don’t want to be alone. I almost speak the realization aloud.

“I promise you, I will find out who hurt her.” His words cause my eyes to open and when they do, I stare at the fire as Jase pulls my sweater over my head. It falls to the floor and then he whispers against the shell of my ear, “I will make them pay for what they did. And you will know every detail.”