Chapter Three

Call him when I feel lonely?

I didn't even give the card a second look. I crumpled that piece of cardstock into a ball and tossed it into a trash bin without a thought as I headed toward our car. I had already called a designated driver, who arrived within minutes. He helped me maneuver Jaxson’s heavy weight into the backseat, and I slid in beside him.

As the car started moving, Jax held onto me, his touch heavy and desperate. My anger was still white-hot, but it had shifted from Jax to that rude Cillian Vane. Who did that man think he really was? A shadow in a mask trying to tell me who I was and how I felt? It was maddening.

"I'm sorry I lashed out at you like that," Jaxson’s voice slurred, his hands clasping over mine. "I don't know, Val... I just... I don't know why I’m taking my frustrations out on you. It's not fair."

I let out a long heave of a sigh, the tension in my shoulders dropping just an inch. "I understand, Jax. Let’s just get home."

"Do you know what my father said to me?" he asked, his eyes glazed. "He said I should accept my stepbrother whether I wanted it or not. If I really wanted..."

"Jax, it’s okay," I said, pressing my palms into his. "It’s okay."

"He said after this match I have with France, that’d be the last one. He ain't waiting till I turn thirty. Either I inherit the company, or I end up losing it altogether."

I closed my eyes for a moment, hating the cold-blooded cruelty of Mr. Montgomery.

"He’s never giving me a real choice, babe." He turned to look at me, and I could see the raw grief on his face. "My father never gave me a real choice. How could he even hide that he had a son from me all this time?"

I didn't have an answer. I just tucked his face into my chest, letting him hide from the world for a moment.

"So I called him," Jax whispered.

I pulled back slightly. "You called who?"

"My so-called brother. We are meeting in a week, so we get to know each other. I have to accept him, you know? If he’s really my sibling."

The car pulled into his driveway, and I helped him through the quiet penthouse and into his room. He pulled me down to lay beside him on the edge of the bed. "Stay with me instead of going back to Sarah. Just stay a night."

I lay beside him, listening to his worries and his fears until sleep finally claimed us both.

The peace was shattered by the loud, blasting alarm of my phone. I groaned, reaching for it only to see a call from Sarah. I answered, and her voice nearly took my ear off.

"The director wants you in here before 10:00 AM! He’s so mad right now because you missed yesterday’s rehearsal when today is the technical night!"

I rubbed my forehead, glancing around. Jax wasn't in the bed. I figured he was in the closet until he walked out, moving in a blur of motion. He was shoving clothes into a bag, his face set in a hard mask.

"I will soon be there," I told Sarah, hanging up. I was reeling, how had I forgotten it was the technical night? The lights, the sound, the cues, I had already missed one practice.

"Where are you going?" I asked Jax.

"France," he said, not looking up.

"France?" I sat up from the bed, my heart sinking. "I thought the Paris match was next month."

"Coach moved the schedule," Jaxson said, his voice tight. "I’ll be gone ten days. I wanted you to come, Val. I told you, I’d fly you out."

"I can’t, Jax. You know the stage play starts tonight. This isn’t just a movie where I can do a retake. It’s live. It’s the Bradbury production. It’s the role of my life. I already missed a practice yesterday."

Jaxson stopped packing. He turned, his jaw set. "The play. Your career. Again. You’re choosing a dusty stage over me? Over Paris? Over all that happened?"

"It’s my career, Jaxson," I snapped back, my voice hardening. "The same way the court is yours. The same way you’re going to inherit an empire."

He let out a short, bitter laugh, a sound that lacked any of his usual warmth. "Your career? You mean the one where you spend three hours a night in another man’s arms? I’ve seen the script, Valerie. I know the kissing scenes, the 'intimate' blocking. How many actors get to have their hands on you tonight while I'm thousands of miles away?"

I felt a flush of heat rise in my throat, my skin prickling with indignation. "It’s acting. You know this. You’ve known exactly what I do since the day we met. Why is this an issue now?"

"Is it just acting?" He stepped closer, using his height to loom over me, the charm that the world adored replaced by a jagged, ugly possessiveness. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just enjoy being touched. You love the way they look at you. You crave that gaze. It’s obscene, Val. Being an actress is just a high-class way of being a..."

"Don't say it," I hissed, my heart hammering against my ribs. My hands were shaking, clenched into tight fists at my sides. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"Why not? It’s the truth! You’re addicted to the attention. You’d rather have a thousand strangers clap for you in the dark than stay in one bed with me."

The cruelty in his voice snapped something vital inside me. All the months of his growing jealousy, the whispered accusations, the way he tried to dim my light so he could be the only sun in my universe, it all came boiling over. The girl who always wanted to love this man was gone; there was only a woman pushed to her absolute limit.

"I’m done," I said, my voice vibrating with a cold, hard fury. "I am so done with your insecurity and your mouth, Jaxson."

"Valerie..." He reached out, his face shifting toward regret, but it was too late.

"No! Go to France. Go and don't come back! I don’t want to see your face ever again," I screamed, the words tearing out of me like jagged glass. "In fact, don’t bother calling me unless I’m dead. Or maybe I’ll wait until you are. I honestly hope you come back to me as a dead man! You ass!!"

I turned and stormed out, the sound of my own pulse drumming in my ears, drowning out whatever he shouted after me. I slammed the door to the penthouse, leaving him and his ego behind. He should go to hell with it. I don't even care anymore.

But I shouldn't have said that.

I should have bitten my tongue. I should have let the anger cool. If I had only known that the universe was listening with a cruel, literal ear, if I had only known that he really would come back to me as a dead man...