Page 33 of Jack's Devotion

"Doesn't every CEO?"

"Every good one," Drake mutters from beside me. "Some are users and abusers and utter shit."

Gerald laughs like he's cracking a joke. I guess he is. He's talking about him. Like usual, Gerald is just too stupid to realize he's the butt of this particular joke.

"If you're up for the challenge, we're putting together a press conference for Friday to announce Drake's departure from the company," I say. "I'd like you to be up there with me. It's a good opportunity to let the rest board know where I'm throwing mysupport for his replacement. If the press picks it up, they'll be less likely to argue much."

"I'm free on Friday."

"Good. The conference is here at noon. It won't take long. Once that's out of the way, the real work can begin."Like putting you in cuffs and dragging your sorry ass off to prison, you miserable prick.I reluctantly reach across the desk to shake his hand.

He rises to his feet, still smiling like he's on top of the fucking world. "Out of curiosity, why me?"

"A man with the dedication it takes to spend seven years hanging missing posters and running a company that fell into his lap in the way yours did is exactly the kind of man I need here," I lie.

"It hasn't been easy," he says smoothly. "But we make do with the lot we're given, Whitlock. Anything less would have been a disservice to her memory."

"Understood. I'll be in touch."

He eyes me for a minute, smiles again, and then ducks out of the door.

I wait until it clicks closed behind him to turn to Drake. "I cannot fucking wait to see that motherfucker in handcuffs," I growl.

"Me either," he agrees quietly.

Chapter Eight

Madison

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Nu-uh." Jack smirks, leaning back against the shower wall, his eyes raking up and down my body. "You're in my shower, naked and soapy."

"Oh. You mean like I have been every morning since you decided to hold me hostage?" I retort, trying hard to ignore the way he wraps his hand around his cock, squeezing.

"You fucking love being my hostage, Madison."

"Do not," I lie.

"Oh, really? Is that why you were coming all over my face this morning?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I totally know what he's talking about. I woke up with his face between my legs. Gotta say…there are a lot of crappy ways to wake up. That is not one of them. He's woken me up the same way pretty much every morning since I started sleeping in his bed. Either he's eating me or he's fucking me. And if he could figure out how to do both at the same time, I'm pretty sure he'd do that, too.

He can't keep his hands off me. It's not like I'm trying hard to stop him or anything. Like right now. I tell him to stop looking at me. But what am I doing? Rubbing soap into my boobs like I'm putting on a show for him. And he knows that's what I'm doing.

He won't call me out on it, though. He never does. Jack Whitlock is obsessed with me. I reached that conclusion days ago. I think he might even be in love with me. I know that's how I feel about him.

I'm terrified to say the words, though. They change things. In a lot of profound, beautiful, really freaking terrifying ways. Or so I keep telling myself. The more rational part of me is fully aware we passed that exit days ago…right about the time we had sex without a condom for the first time. Or maybe when he brought up marriage for the first time.

Things have already changed between us. This is already real and permanent and all those things that make him a necessary, vital part of my life now. Whether we take down my dad or he wins…what's happening between us right now has already left an indelible stamp on both of us. Maybe that stamp was branded into us seven years ago. I'm not sure.

But I don't want to lose it now. I don't want Jack to lose anything, either. And that's what worries me. That he might lose me. He's already lost seven years. He spent them alone because I disappeared. What happens if my dad wins now? If I die? Jack ends up alone again, maybe forever this time. How is that fair to him?

"You're thinking awful hard over there, baby," he says. "Not liking your view?" He peels himself away from the shower wall, sauntering across the stone floor toward me with his cock in his hand. "Maybe you need to see it up close and personal."

"I think I should move back to the pool house," I blurt.

"What the fuck?" His hand drops from his cock, his expression falling into a severe scowl. He backs me up against the wall, all pissed off and growly. Way too hot to handle. "What are you talking about?"

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