Chapter 8: The Third Floor, Third Door

JAX

I cleared my throat, loud and harsh.

Both Aunt Millicent and Marcus snapped their attention to me.

"Who were you here for again, Officer Grant?" I asked, crossing my arms.

Marcus blinked, looking a bit lost for a second before he seemed to remember himself. He stepped away from my aunt and closed the distance between us.

"I came to thank you," he said, his deep voice rumbling. He reached out, his heavy hand clamping down firmly on my shoulder. "For finding Eugene last night. I apologize for being out of line with you."

My eyes dropped to the large, rough hand gripping my shoulder. A violent jolt of heat shot straight down to my stomach. I could feel my cheeks flushing hot.

God, he was so fucking striking. That stern face, those broad shoulders. Nobody in this world deserved him. Only me. Definitely not the wicked witch standing behind him.

"You should head inside. You must have classes to catch," Marcus said softly, his thumb pressing lightly into my collarbone.

I parted my lips to tell him class wasn't that important, but Millicent suddenly leaned in. She reached out and patted my damp silver hair like I was a toddler.

"Oh, he's just a grumpy morning bird. I'll see you at home, my sweet nephew!"

I violently slapped her hand away from my head.

"Fuck off," I sneered under my breath.

I turned on my heel and walked straight toward the campus entrance. I glanced back over my shoulder, hoping to catch Marcus watching me walk away. But no. He was already turned back around, fully engaged in conversation with Millicent.

My jaw locked so hard my teeth ached. I gripped the strap of my bag and stormed into the Arts Department.

The lecture hall was loud and chaotic. The professor hadn't shown up yet. I walked to my usual spot, looking around for Jeremy, but his seat was empty. I pulled out my phone to text him, only to see an unread message sitting on my screen.

'Dad found out about the party. Grounded. Kill me.'

Poor bastard.

I locked my screen and dropped into a chair. A few guys a row over were pointing and whispering about me—probably still gossiping about my arrest at the party. A group of girls waved their manicured fingers at me, giggling. I gave them one lazy wave and stared at my black screen like I actually cared.

I just wanted to go home and ruin my aunt's life. But my peace shattered the second a shadow fell over my desk.

Eugene Grant.

He had finally tracked me down.

"You bailed on me yesterday," Eugene said, pushing his thick glasses up his nose. "How noble of you."

I leaned back in my chair, letting a slow, mocking smirk stretch across my face as I scanned him from head to toe. He had absolutely no idea I was the only reason his dad found him in that library last night.

"I told you, I was busy."

"Well, you can't be busy today," Eugene snapped, dropping a stack of papers on my desk. "We are meeting today after class to practice at—"

"Still busy," I interrupted, looking away.

"—my house," he finished.

My head snapped back around. My eyes went wide. "Your house?"

"Yes," Eugene scowled, crossing his arms. "Thanks to you blowing me off, I got in trouble and I'm not allowed to stay out late. So, my house is the only option. Are you really going to say no?"

A wicked thrill buzzed in my chest.

"Of course not," I purred. "Let's go together."

Eugene’s brows shot up. He stared at me with heavy suspicion. I could practically see the gears turning in his nerdy little head, trying to figure out why the hell I had agreed so fast.

Before he could interrogate me, the professor walked in.

I didn't care about the lecture. As long as I got to see Marcus today, I would happily spend the rest of eternity inside that house.

***

Two hours later, I was sitting on the rug in Eugene’s living room, a script in my hand.

I hadn't read a single word.

My knee bounced up and down. My eyes kept darting to the front door, then to the wall clock, then back to the door. The house was dead quiet.

"Jaxon, you missed your cue again," Eugene groaned, rubbing his temples. "You're supposed to say, 'My heart belongs only to the crown.'"

I dropped the script onto the coffee table with a loud smack. "When does your dad get home?"

Eugene rolled his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. "He's working late. He said he won't be back until midnight. Can we please focus?"

Midnight?

All the excitement drained right out of my body. The room suddenly felt suffocating. I wasn't going to sit here for six hours playing medieval dress-up with a nerd if the prize wasn't even going to walk through the door.

"Oh, wow," I said flatly, standing up and grabbing my jacket. "I suddenly feel a massive migraine coming on. Must be all this history. I'm going home."

"What? Jaxon, you can't just leave!"

"Watch me," I called over my shoulder, already walking out the front door.

I drove back to my mansion in a foul mood. My day was completely ruined. But the second I turned onto my massive driveway, my foot slammed on the brake.

Parked right in front of my front steps was a black police cruiser.

And standing right at my front door, looking massive in his dark uniform, was Deputy Marcus Grant.

I killed the engine and stepped out, a slow grin spreading across my face.

"Officer Grant," I called out. "Couldn't stay away from me?"

Marcus turned, his face completely rigid. He didn't even blink at my teasing.

"I'm here strictly on official business, Whitfield," he said, his voice a low, gravelly warning. "I just need to finalize the security detail with Millicent. She had cornered me earlier about needing an official police escort for some high-profile content shoot she was filming in town. I just needed her to sign the final precinct paperwork, and then I could leave.."

Bullshit.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, tilting my head. "Is that so? Then why are you standing out here?"

"Because she isn't answering her phone, and your butler is nowhere to be found," Marcus gritted out, clearly losing his patience. He ran a hand over his short hair. "Just point me to her bedroom so I can get this over with."

My heart gave a hard, violent thump against my ribs.

He wanted a bedroom.

"Of course, Officer," I murmured, my voice dropping to a smooth, dark whisper. I stepped up to the door and pushed it open for him. "Third floor. Third door on the right."

Marcus didn't even look at me. He just gave a tight nod, brushed past my shoulder, and headed straight for the grand staircase.

I stepped inside and closed the front door quietly. I stared up at his broad, muscular back as he climbed the steps, my blood running blazing hot through my veins. He wasn't walking toward my aunt's room. He was walking straight into my bedroom.

We might as well just fuck once we get up there, I thought, biting my lower lip as I followed silently behind him. I don't have a condom... but I really hope Mr. Grant won't care.

MARCUS

This house was entirely too big.

I kept my hand resting on my duty belt as I reached the third-floor landing. The silence in the mansion was unsettling. I just needed a quick signature from Millicent regarding the incident report from her previous town, and then I could leave.

I counted the heavy wooden doors down the long, shadowed hallway.

One. Two. Three.

I grabbed the brass handle of the third door on the right and pushed it open, expecting to find the bright, pristine guest quarters of a wealthy woman.

Instead, I stepped into a massive, dimly lit room that smelled strongly of expensive cologne and leather. The walls were painted a moody charcoal. A sprawling king-sized bed was covered in messy black silk sheets. A leather jacket was tossed carelessly over a velvet chair, and sitting right on the bathroom vanity was a bottle of platinum silver hair dye.

My blood ran cold.

This wasn't Millicent's room.

Before I could turn around, a heavy click echoed behind me.

The lock sliding into place.

I whipped around, my jaw clenching in anger. Jaxon stood leaning against the closed door, his silver hair falling over his eyes as he tossed a small silver key up and caught it in his palm with a wicked smirk.

"What the hell is this, Whitfield?" I growled, taking a large, threatening step toward him. "Open that damn door right now."

Instead of backing down, Jaxon closed the distance between us. He stepped right into my personal space, tilting his head up. His voice dropped into a dark, breathy whisper as he boldly trailed his fingertips down the center of my police badge.

"You're trespassing in my bedroom, Officer Grant," he purred, his heavy-lidded eyes dropping to my lips. "Are you going to arrest me for locking you in... or are you finally going to do what you've been wanting to do since the day we met?"