Chapter 43

HARPER

S eeing that email address signed in to Jasper's computer triggered a rush of panic and my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. I had to sit back a minute to catch my breath and focus on the facts, in that moment I had none, other than the obvious.

Jasper is JW and JW saved me one night at a lounge from being abducted, and only God knows what else. My instincts screamed for me to run, yet something held me in place.

Could he be all that bad if he saved me? W hy would he lie about who he was and start a digital friendship with me like that ? What was he hiding?

A small part of me wanted to call him and ask all the questions I had overwhelming my head, but I knew I was already pressed for time and despite everything I had to get this exclusive on tonight's event or the entire week would have been for nothing. As crazy as it seemed I wasn't scared, I still trusted him.

I quickly secured a flight for Aster. Fortunately, I found one that was scheduled to depart within three hours, which was plenty of time for her to pack and get her ass to the airport, then she could come home where she belonged.

I was bothered by what happened to her, yet I couldn't deny a sense of relief that it wasn't the worst-case scenario. Prestyne had earned a permanent spot on my shit list for toying with my best friend's heart. However, I was hopeful that the turn of events would open her eyes a little and slow her down in the future. Maybe she would get to know the men better before running off across the world with them. Either way, I loved the hell out of that girl, and I'd be right there to help her through it regardless, just like she would for me, just like she had been for years.

Once I finished booking everything, it hit me that Aster might struggle with reading the ticket details. So, I wanted to jot down the important information to send her a photo. She was already stressed and not in the best state of mind.

I looked around for a piece of paper or a post, but Jasper's desk was immaculate just like the rest of the house stays even without hired help.

"I wonder if he has a borderline issue with OCD," I thought to myself.

I giggled thinking about the ways I could mess with him.

My mother had OCD. When I was younger, she insisted on certain arrangements and orders. As I got older, I realized that her requirements were not exactly normal, like her need for all food labels to face the same direction and to organize canned goods and condiments in the refrigerator by color and size. She had a pattern for all her daily activities. It was the one consistent thing about her.

Sometimes when I was angry because they disappeared again for days, I would go unorganized everything or walk through the house and move pictures and decorations around. She would notice it instantly and I would laugh till I cried while she frantically readjusted everything. It was funny until she got mad one time and slapped me so hard my earring stud went straight through my earlobe. Needless to say, I didn't make that mistake again.

Glancing down at the desk drawers, I noticed they had keyholes. I grabbed the one to my left and tugged at it, anticipating it to be locked. To my surprise, it opened easily.

He seemed to trust his security team to keep outsiders from his penthouse.

I looked down eagerly, reaching for the stack of post it's at the bottom of the drawer, nearly overlooking the large manila envelope that had my name written in black ink across the front.

The manila envelope was packed full nearly bursting from overfill. I held it, contemplating whether to open it. Something was tugging at my senses telling me I needed to see what was in it. I laid it on the desk, unwrapped the twine from the metal clasp, and tipped it slightly, the contents slowly started to slide out onto the desk.

The first thing that caught my eye was the newspaper clippings from when I escaped my kidnapping. I felt the heat rolling down my cheek as I looked at my photo.

I was so broken and so hollow. A mere shell of who I was before they took me.

I dug further into the stack of invasive documents of me and my past. There was my employment history and personal information, so in-depth it even had my third-grade student schedule I recognized it because it showed that I had Mrs. McBride for third-period math. She was my favorite teacher, she looked out for me in so many ways and offered help when she could give me a little extra time for homework, or lunch when I had nothing to eat.

Digging further I saw a photograph of the bookstore, it was a recent photo because it had the new "Pups welcome" sign in the front glass, old man Frank only put that up a couple of weeks ago to draw in some of the millennial crowd.

When I reached the end of the pile, I gasped as I found a photo of myself entering my building, wearing sweats, and a torn T-shirt with a huge yellow smiley face on the front. The sleeves were cut so wide you could see my yellow sports bra underneath it. I would assume I was only checking the mail or taking out the trash because I would never wear lounge clothes like that out and about.

I didn't know what to think. I was shocked to find all this information but more shocked that it was all so accurate. Whoever did this had great resources or was one hell of a skilled investigator, either way, why did Jasper need all this stuff? I already told him about my past. Did he not trust me? Or worse, had he known all along of my traumas? Was this the reason he pursued me so hard? What was he gaining?

I sat staring at the stack of my entire life laid out in paper form. The most embarrassing part was my kidnapping and all the hospital photos and police reports of the incident. Jasper saw all of this. He must see me as such a weak woman. Is that why he has done so much for me? Is that why he bought me all those clothes and he keeps protecting me, keeping me close by, because he sees me as some tiny little fragile person who can't take care of herself?

My mind was swirling with anger, confusion, and frustration. What bothered me the most was the lack of my usual need for protective barriers. Why did I still feel secure when everything seemed to be screaming otherwise?

I looked at the clock again before jotting down the info I needed to send Aster and left the office in a hurry. Even though I felt really betrayed and tricked, I wasn't going to let that keep me from attending the event. That article had the potential to turn things around for me. It could put me on the map. Push me straight into a successful career in journalism and nothing could stand in my way not even a lying bastard like Jasper, except I wasn't even sure I was mad at him.

Am I totally losing it?

O f course, I was upset. He had someone research me and find out some of my most intimate secrets and worst of all I trusted him. I'm not sure I could ever fully trust him again. could I?

I sent a quick text to Aster and then rushed to my room to finish dressing. Just moments after I zipped up my dress and did up the last cuff button, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it, and a silly grin spread across my face.

"You're mad at him," I mumbled as I glanced over Jasper's name. I reminded myself that he had some explaining to do.

I decided to tell him about Aster's once we were back from the event, and then I would eventually have to speak to him about what I had seen in his office. Maybe he would arrange for a driver to pick up Aster from the airport.

It's the least he could do since he's such an asshole, liar.

I didn't truly feel that way, yet the thought crossed my mind. The sudden discernment I felt towards the situation unsettled me and left me feeling odd. I should be furious, and part of me was, but I was eager to see him. I needed to see him.

I left the papers scattered on his desk as a symbol. I wasn't sure what that symbol was yet, but we will make one up as we go.

I walked towards the elevator where the door dinged before it opened, and my breath was stolen from me instantly by the masterpiece of a man in a fitted tux leaning against the railing. My cheeks heated at the sight in front of me.

"Dammit Doll you are gorgeous." Jasper's husky voice came out in a growl.

Soon, the animosity I tried to hold against him was replaced by a feeling I wasn't sure was normal. My palms started to sweat, and my breaths raged as an overwhelming need swept my core.

Damn.