Page 53 of Savage

My phone pinged and I received another text but it was from Jessica. Did your dad manage to track you down, he called the office earlier. Shit. So, the paper had given him my number not realising we were estranged. He must have seen my article in the paper which would have told him where I worked. I batted off the thought, partly annoyed that they had broken every rule of GDPR. I was an adult now and they shouldn’t have given my details out to anyone. Of course, Jessica didn’t know about my past and probably thought she was doing the right thing.

As I paced the floor of my bedroom, wrapped in only a towel, I toyed with the idea of telling my mother. She probably wouldn’t take the news too well, especially considering how delicate she was after the news that she and Marcus couldn’t conceive. The thought of hearing her crying sent a jet of panic to whoosh through my frame. What the heck?

A splintered memory of my mother and father arguing peppered my thoughts. The contact from my father suddenly felt wrong. Like really wrong.

I thought back to that time I had tried to see him at his office and how his security had marched me off the premises. Had he had a change of heart?

A sick sensation pooled in with the dread and I felt a strong need to hide, escape. Ram my hands over my ears. WTF?

Something was off.

I lowered my shaky limbs onto my dressing table chair and looked at myself in the mirror. The girl in the reflection appeared haunted; but by what? Faint memories of my parents when they were together?

Thankfully I didn’t have time to dwell on my emotions as a fist banged on my door, making me jump, redirecting my thoughts.

“We leave in forty-five minutes—be ready—or I go without you,” Jaxon boomed from behind the barrier. I shouted my reply, stating that I’d be ready. I wasn’t one of those girls that took an age to dress and I didn’t wear much make-up anyway. My hair would take the longest time as I was going to style it in a half up half down do, and then curl the ends with my hair straighteners.

The sound of Jaxon’s door slamming pushed me into action. Forcing me to bury thoughts of my father.

After around thirty minutes and with fifteen minutes to spare, I was ready.

I admired my creation in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

My hair had obeyed me for once and looked fantastic. The black curls were shiny and fell down my back with a top section knotted and a few tendrils kissing my face. I wore more make-up than usual, adding layers of mascara to build up my lashes. I also added a touch of blusher and painted my lips a deep red to match my outfit.

I had purchased a fitted, long red dress which was strapless, the heart-shaped neckline highlighting my breasts and leaving my throat exposed. My waist looked even smaller as the material gripped it before flaring out into a skirted section that boasted a cheeky slit. The slit ran almost to my thigh. The gold strappy sandals gave me more height and I had managed to find a clutch bag that matched the shoes perfectly. The only jewellery I wore was a slim bracelet. I really did feel like a million dollars, clichéd but so true.

I wondered fleetingly what Jaxon would think when he saw me. Excitement at surprising him bubbled in my chest. He’d never seen me in anything as elegant before as I usually lived in jeans and hoodies. The dress I had worn to Daisy and Marcus’s wedding had been quite plain as I had been rebelling at the time.

Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I took a deep breath and set off for the stairs. Holding the banister, I carefully negotiated the steps. I didn’t want to end up falling on my arse and ruining my entrance.

As I turned the corner, Jaxon was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and holy shit. He was wearing a tux and looked smoking hot. Talk about scrubbing up well, he was like a male model. The cut of his jacket had been tailored to accommodate his huge shoulders. The blood must have drained from my brain as I couldn’t think straight.

His eyes met mine, roaming over my body, drinking in my appearance and I saw from the flare in his eyes that he liked what he saw. I continued my slow journey toward him with a smile; one he half returned.

His dark hair was swept back neatly from his face with a lock or two attempting to rebel against the style. The tanned column of his throat was dark against the whiteness of his shirt. I had a sudden image of myself standing before him, tugging off the bow tie and encircling that strong neck with my fingers. My nails were also painted red and I longed to see the contrast of them against his skin.

As I came to the bottom step, we were at eye level. He couldn’t hide the way his body was responding to me and a thrill ran up my spine.

“Fuck me,” Jaxon whispered, his eyes dark with hunger. My breath quickened and a tremor ran through my body.

“Is that a good or a bad fuck me?” I questioned, staring him straight in the face. I felt beautiful and empowered, nothing he said tonight could knock my confidence.

He rubbed his nape, and I saw a flash of discomfort flash over his face. “You look stunning, you know you do. I can see I’ll have my work cut out for me tonight.”

My brow threaded. “Work?” I fielded.

Jaxon leaned forward and raised his hand, pushing a tendril of my hair behind one ear. “Keeping all the dicks who will be slavering all over you at bay.”

I raised my eyebrows, my smile widening and turning suggestive. I couldn’t help myself. I felt sexy.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve factored myself in there too, believe me,” Jaxon husked. I felt that tone of voice everywhere like it had reached out and touched my skin. I snatched in a sharp breath as the atmosphere sizzled around us.

We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment longer before Jaxon turned toward the door and offered me his arm. I stepped onto the floor and threaded my hand through it. He smelled so masculine and musky with only a hint of aftershave. My heart was banging in my chest like a drum at that moment.

“Just so you know. I don’t dance. Ever,” Jaxon stated out of the blue.

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