Page 26 of Claimed
Jasper kissed me swiftly on the lips. “Good.” He stood erect.
I reached out to him as though trying to catch him before he got away. “Bythe way, I wanted to ask you about Bryn. Have you heard anything about her?”
He veered away from me, that stony expression back on his face. “She’s fine,” he said as if it hurt him to reveal that.
My jaw dropped. “Then you know where she is?”
His eyes darted from left to right as he pursed his kissable lips. “Yes. That’s all I’m saying for now. Are you satisfied with thatanswer?”
His efficient tone, combined with his serious expression and nakedness, turned me on. Jasper must have seen the desire in my eyes and understood that my look was the answer to his question. He cracked an impish smile.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’d better go before I choose to push up my meetings.”
I rolled onto my belly, chuckling as I watched him trot into his walk-incloset. I was happy—one hundred percent filled with bliss. I never believed this could be me. Deep down, I didn’t trust it, but for the moment, I decided to go with it.
I layon my back with my eyes closed, picturing how Jasper looked as he walked out of his closet. He had on a pair of nicely tailored navy-blue trousers with a light-blue button-down shirt. The sleeves were folded above his elbows, and the buttons were loose at his chest. He looked so sexy I could hardly stand it. On his way out, he kissed me and once againreminded me that I was his. My mind was floating, and even though I didn’t say it, I could hardly believe that he belonged to me.
I thought about how Jasper had asked if I had a problem with sitting still and relaxing. His bed was so comfortable. The blanket smelled like him and also like me.
The most rest I’d ever gotten was when I was heartbroken during the first week and a halfof the new year. I smashed my eyes closed and wiped away the memory of lying in bed in my flannel pajamas, lamenting the loss of Jasper Christmas. Suddenly, my eyes popped open. Good energy raced through my body, and I was ready to do exactly what Jasper had suggested.
First, I stepped into his locker-room-sized shower and used the shampoo that sat on the ledge in the corner. The warm waterfelt divine. When I was done showering, I decided to really overindulge and took a bath. As I sat in the silky water, I fought the urge to think of my next work task. I was eager to learn what Branson would discover about Benjamin Dow and all the money Jasper had supposedly given to the man to cover up his brother’s crime. I believed Jasper when he said he’d never made payments. Then I thoughtabout Kylie’s fake sources.How could she have done that?I could still hardly believe it, but I couldn’t deny what I’d seen. I wondered what she had to say for herself. The longer I sat in the tub, the more I realized without a shadow of doubt that she was trying to play me. The pieces were right there, ready to be put together. Sure, I was the one who had called her while I was staying at theChristmas mansion. I knew she had a fascination with the family, and I wanted to see if she could help me with the investigation that Bryn had paid me to do. So as far as good luck went, I was the four-leaf clover that had fallen into her lap. I always thought the agreement between her and Jasper was strange. As I’d told Jasper, paying off a coroner would not have destroyed her career. And truthfully,I had never bought that excuse. I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed the inside corners as I waited for the disappointment to pass. Yes, Kylie had broken my heart. I thought we were friends. I knew we were friends. I wanted her to prove to me that we were.
“Eve,” I muttered as I slid the loofah up my calf.
Why would Kylie insist I give her the name of my contact if she never intendedto investigate it?That was proof she was not a phony reporter. Then I groaned, disappointed. She must have known that I was too emotionally involved to hand her a contact who could eventually harm Jasper. I had to catch her in a way in which she couldn’t question my motives. I had to use details that she already believed were solid. And more importantly, I had to start the process of cookingher goose immediately.
I rose to my feet, but before stepping out of the tub, I stopped to ponder. I couldn’t make it hurt so badly that my actions would ruin her forever.But is there any other way to do it?Oh, the pain in my heart!
But there was no other course of action. She had taken a new job as a TV host. A TV host was not a reporter. Journalists did the legwork—we combedthrough records, contacted sources, asked for documents, and attempted to catch our subjects with their hands in the cookie jar, and that was only a smidgen of all the shit we had to do to get the story. Perhaps Kylie had finally arrived and was done pretending to be a real reporter.
I sat back down, deciding to let things be. I could consider the way she’d stolen that gambling story fromme—and then allowed it to die after her deception was discovered—to be water under the bridge. But then I remembered all the emails she’d left me, asking how I was progressing on Chattanooga, and I stood back up. She wasn’t done, at least not with the Christmases. She needed to learn a lesson, and I would be the one to brine, stuff, and roast her over an open fire.
I had dried my skin,and now I sat on the edge of the bed, constructing a long email in Notes. I made up a story about howa source named Rosie had given me another address in Chattanooga that operated as a full-on brothel. I made up a name for the madam and validated her credentials, saying that this woman, who I called Leanne Dean, had gone on record stating that Randolph Christmas was her premiere client. I added that Leanne couldn’t confirm or deny the fact that other members of the Christmas clan visited the brothel.I wasn’t sure whether or not it was good to add that detail, but I knew it would be fresh meat for her to maul to the bone. I made up names of prostitutes but fed her a few real names of clients so that they could publicly deny her accusations. I gave her dates. Lastly, I told her she couldn’t reach me because I was in hiding and that an editor, whom I called D, was expecting the story beforemidnight. I added that I just wanted her to know all of this because she had urged me to follow through with my Chattanooga source, and for that, I thanked her.
Once I was done with the message, I copied it, pasted it into an email, and sent it without delay, making sure to blind copy myself on the correspondence.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” a woman asked.
I quickly lookedtoward the doorway. There stood Julia Valentine in a long trench coat over a black business suit. Her attire looked impeccable, but her skin was blotchy and eyes crazed and glassy. It took me a moment to process what she’d just asked.
“I’m sorry, but what areyoudoing here?” I asked. After all, I was the girlfriend, and she was not a real fiancée—at least, that was what I’d been told.
“I can’t believe him,” she muttered as she swept out of the doorway. Then I heard her heels beating the floor as she raced down the hall.
“What in the world?” I whispered as I hopped to my feet.
I wanted to follow her, but I was too discombobulated.What the hell just happened?I gnawed on my bottom lip, still unable to figure out how to direct my feet. Then I heard Julia yellabout how Jasper had misled her and how he wasn’t supposed to do what he had done to her father.
“We’re losing everything by the second. How dare you?” she shouted.
Jasper said something in response.
“I was falling in love with you. Do you even care about that?”
He said something that included my name.
Julia went deathly quiet then cried, “Fuck you Jasper! Itwon’t work. What you did won’t work!”
