The door to my bedroom opens. I don’t bother to turn to look at who it is. I already know. I can feel her. I knew she’d come. She really shouldn’t have.
Jasmine slowly walks into the room, coming to a stop right in front of me. “Jacob?” Her voice is soft, quiet, so damn quiet.
I look up at her through watery eyes, and she gasps right before she drops to her knees in front of me.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, her arms wrapping around my neck.
I let her pull me into her embrace, my head resting against her chest. I grab on to her waist and hold tight. Tighter than I have a right to. I know she shouldn’t be here. I need to send her home. And I will, but first, I’m going to take the comfort she’s offering. The kind I can only find with her.
Jazzy’s fingers brush through my hair. “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice croaking.
I can’t help but hold her even tighter as I let the tears fall from my eyes. All the while, she whispers sweet, sweet promises, and I soak up her lies when she tells me everything is going to be okay.
It’s not going to be okay. Nothing is okay with this. My parents are dead. Because of a choice I made. And the fucked-up part of all this is… I’d make that same choice again, even knowing the outcome. Better me experience the loss—the pain—than her. My Jazzy. I’ve already caused her more anguish than I ever wanted to. I will not inflict any more on her.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I try to compose myself. I do not fall apart, especially in Jazzy’s arms. I was always the strong one out of the two of us, fighting any battle she ever had at school. Even the ones she had no idea about.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper.
“I know,” she says. “But for now, let’s pretend I should be.”
“No, you don’t get it, Jasmine. You’re not supposed to be here.” I pull away from her, wiping my face with the bottom of my shirt, hating the coldness that seeps into my bones the instant I lose her warmth.
“You know what, Jacob Westmead? You don’t always get to call the shots and choose where I should and shouldn’t be. You can’t tell me what to do. If I want to be here, with my best friend, to support him when he’s experiencing a huge loss, then I will be. And there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it!” she shouts at me.
I smile. “Best friend, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“How did you get in here?” I have no doubt that there are reporters swarming this house, just waiting for a shot at me. The distraught billionaire heir, who just lost his parents while simultaneously becoming one of the richest men in the country. I don’t have any siblings. My father has one brother who shares the Westmead wealth, and he has two children. Cousins I barely see. But my parents’ side of that wealth all falls on me. Right along with the responsibility of it.
“Brad sneaked me in. I hid in his car so no one saw me,” Jazzy says.
“Brad’s here?”Fuck? Did he know?
“He’s in the living room,” Jazzy tells me.
“Wait here.” I’m on my feet and at the door when I stop and turn back towards her. “Remember when we were kids and we would play in all the hidden rooms?”
“Uh-huh.” Jazzy nods.
“Do you remember how to get to the hidden room in here?” I ask her.
“Yes.” She looks directly at the large mirror on the wall, the one that doubles as a door.
“Good. If you hear anything abnormal, get in there. Call your father and don’t leave that room until he comes for you,” I tell her.
“Jake?” Jazzy stands. “You’re scaring me. Why would I need to hide?”
“My parents were just murdered, Jasmine. Think about it? I’m the last one in line for their money.”
“You think this is about money?”
“Isn’t it always?” I shrug. “Stay here.”
I turn and walk out of the room, feeling like shit for lying to her. This isn’t just about money. It’s a warning, a threat that theycan and will target anyone I care about for going against them. For not agreeing with their plans. The thing with The Court is… all six family representatives have to agree in order to green-light a plan. And up until now, I’ve never had an issue agreeing with their bullshit.
I find Bradley pacing the formal living room. “Did you know?” I ask him.