Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I’d let it go on forever. I’d let it go to the point where we’d get naked and he’d bend me over the leather couch. But it’s Jackson who stops it, his hands moving to my face as he murmurs, “Ask what you need to ask.”
And here comes the one and only question. “Will you tell me everything that’s going on so I’m not in the dark about anything?”
So broad.
So all encompassing.
And Jackson does as asked, nodding solemnly. He won’t lie to me.
We sit on the couch, and Jackson proceeds to tell me that a suspected assassination plot against my father has been uncovered. The details are minimal and sketchy, which is why Dmitri stayed in Bretaria. He also tells me that a day and a half ago, more chatter was picked up that, while very vague and coded, seemed to indicate I am on the list too. Thus the change in security protocols.
“And that’s why lunch with the president got cancelled?” I ask, because that was incredibly disappointing to me when I’d learned of it this morning. I’d been told his schedule had changed and couldn’t accommodate me, which was understandable. He’s the leader of the free world and I’m just a ruby princess.
Jackson nods. “I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to that. But the threat against you is real and the Secret Service was never going to let you get near the president for safety reasons.”
I nod in understanding. “It makes sense,” I muse out loud, eyes drifting out to the darkness as we fly toward San Francisco, “that they’d want to get to me before my twenty-fifth birthday. The ability to name my heir and keep it secret pretty much ensures my safety. No one can obliterate an entire bloodline.”
Jackson is silent and I turn back to him, noting his grave expression. I smile at him. “It’s probably not a big deal. It’s a little less than two weeks until my birthday, and I’m sure I’ll be sequestered in the palace. I’ll even promise not to sneak out. But I get now why you changed things up in DC, just to be extra safe.”
And still he says nothing.
I tip my head. “What?”
“You’re not safe even in the palace,” he says grimly.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoff, raising a hand. “Everyone in the palace is trusted.”
“No one can be one hundred percent trusted. The right amount of money can buy anyone’s loyalty.”
I frown at him. “You mean like… Dmitri?”
“Probably not Dmitri,” he says, but he emphasizes the word probably. “And I’d probably trust Paul.”
“But not fully,” I press.
“I don’t fully trust anyone,” he says, and I hate that this hurts. It’s ridiculous that it hurts. He’s only known me a few weeks. Just because we’re intimate doesn’t mean there’s trust.
And yet, I trust him with my life.
But do you trust him with your heart?
I don’t know the answer to that.
I avert my gaze again, staring out to the blackness beyond the window.
“If there’s a legit plan to take you and your father out,” Jackson says, and I don’t look his way, “it’s most likely going to come from a worker. Someone who can easily be bought, no matter how trusted they might be. While I know anyone who works at the palace makes a great wage, the price to kill you and your father would be in the millions. It’s enough to sway most people.”
It’s hard to comprehend that someone could so easily give up their soul for money, but I don’t doubt his words. It sickens me, and I’m done with this conversation.
“I thought,” I murmur in a low voice, still regarding the night before me, “that when you were putting me off, you were calling it quits between us.”
I don’t look at Jackson because a part of me is afraid he’s been aloof because of that too.
It’s why I’m not expecting his arms around me when he hauls me across the couch to him. He goes to his back, bringing my body flush to his. His hand cradles my head, and he forces my mouth down to his in a blistering kiss.
Any doubt that he wanted to part ways sooner rather than later dissipate, and I’m giving him as much as he’s giving me.
Jackson’s arms band around my lower back, pressing me tight to him, and I can’t help but grind my hips down on what is clearly a growing erection. It’s not fair. We shouldn’t even play around like this because it can’t go anywhere.
Except … Jackson’s hands move to my thighs, and he pulls up my skirt. I’d dressed for our tours in a knee-length skirt and matching jacket in a dark brown wool plaid, paired with high-heeled, brown leather boots. I seriously doubt Jackson is going to take the time to let me get out of them.