11. Jackson

Mandy was good at many things: interior design; studying;, dancing; running; and, most annoyingly, stressing me the fuck out.

Six days. For six goddamn days she's ignored my calls, stayed in her house, and worked from home. If she was attempting to get around the problem with the press by hiding, it was only making them chomp at the bit that much more. Headline after headline stated, ‘Jackson Big's new girlfriend hides from reporters'. They wanted answers. They wanted a story. And even though she was keeping in contact with the planning committee of J.B. Tech who were under express orders not to speak about her to the media, her silence with me in particular was beginning to drive me insane.

And that is why I'm sitting in the back of my driver's car outside of her office building. I heard she'd finally gone in to work today.

"I think it'd be beneficial if we went through the parking garage and you entered from the rear," my driver, Steve said, starting up the engine once again as we stared at the swarm of reporters standing outside the front of her building.

"No need. This shouldn't take long."

Agreeing to the engagement was almost certain at this point—she'd be insane to deny it, so what harm could it do if I just waltzed right in?

I unbuckled my seatbelt, got out, and brazenly walked to the building's front door, cutting through the sea of people as cameras snapped and microphones were shoved in my face. Ignoring all of it, I casually stepped through the front doors into reception.

"Oh my God." The woman behind the desk stared at me with wide eyes, her face pale. "You're Jackson Big."

"Which floor is LV Interiors on?" I asked, ignoring her shock as I stepped up to the elevators.

She blinked at me, not quite comprehending my question. "Uh. F-floor two," she stammered, her fingers wrapping tight around the necklace she wore. "No, sorry, floor three."

"Thanks."

The doors closed and the elevator began to rise, dinging once, twice, three times before opening again. I knew exactly what to expect on the other side.

Mandy stood there, her wildly angry face almost distracting me enough to not notice how incredible she looked. Her hair was down again, hanging about her shoulders in perfect curls. Her black blouse hung loosely over her shoulders, tightening a bit over her breasts, and was tucked into a short, loose plaid skirt. No tights. Simple heels.

Was she expecting me?

I stepped through the elevator doors, steeling my jaw to keep myself from thinking about how much I desperately wanted to bend her over a desk and fuck her senseless. My cock, however, did not seem to get the memo, and I had to focus to get the blood to retreat.

"What the actual fuck, Jackson?"

Just seeing her like this was threatening to distract me entirely, but I forced myself to focus on her face and only that. "Well, if you hadn't ignored my calls and messages, I wouldn't have been forced to make an unannounced visit."

She pushed her hands into her hair and took a deep breath to try to calm herself which only placed more emphasis on her chest. Screw just fucking her—I needed more than that. I needed to claim her and fuck the stubbornness right out of her.

"I need an answer, Mandy. You can't just leave me in limbo like this." I said. "What'll it be?"

She groaned in frustration as she turned away from me, the noise only exciting me more. I needed to get a handle on myself, and I needed to do it quickly. "Follow me."

We walked in silence down the quiet hallway, each door leading to a different set of small offices. I let myself watch the way her curls bounced with every step, the way her skirt swayed around her upper thighs, until she opened the last door on the left and ushered me through.

The space was small and not what you'd expect from an interior design office, but it was beautifully decorated. Two individual offices on either side, a break room at the back, his and hers restrooms. It was cohesive and professional throughout, modern with its color blocking and scattered foliage. "Harry went home at lunch. We can talk about this alone, just you and me. I don't want to deal with your PR team right now."

I nodded. The space between their offices was set up with a small waiting area, two plush modern sofas and a table between them.

"Do you want a drink?" She asked, moving back toward the break room and leaving me in the waiting area. "It's Lagavulin you like, right?" she called out. "Harry's got some back here. It's not the twenty-six so you'll have to settle for the eight, okay?"

She remembered that? "That sounds amazing. Yes, please," I said as I took a seat on one of the sofas, leaving plenty of space if she decided to sit next to me.

I sat in silence until she returned, two glasses of Lagavulin Eight in her hands. She set them on opposite sides of the coffee table, taking a seat across from me and crossing her legs as she leaned forward. "Okay. Let's talk."

"I assume you have questions," I said, picking up my glass.

She didn't reply. Instead, her fingers wrapped slowly around the half-full glass of whiskey in front of her, lifting it to her lips before downing it in one gulp. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clearly calmer than when I first arrived.

"If I say yes… how will this work?"

My mouth watered as she leaned back, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. I swear she gave me a peak of what was under her skirt, but it was too quick to be sure. "Well, for starters, we'd have to pretend to be head over heels over each other," I began, my gaze locked on her legs. "We'll need to do a public proposal announcement, maybe a few interviews. And you'll be my plus one at my sister"s wedding in two months."

In truth, I had no idea if it would take that long for the media swarm to die down. It could be less, could be more, but my mother and Tiana had insisted I bring her when they'd seen the news. Said it would be dramatic.

Mandy twirled her hair around her finger as she watched me like a hawk, her lower lip clutched between her teeth. "If you say yes, do you know what you'd like in exchange?" I asked.

She leaned forward, crossing and uncrossing and crossing again. Fuck, she has to stop doing that. "If I say yes, I'd like you to introduce me to potential clientele. Take me to a few networking events. Sell me. Make my business boom, Jackson Big, and we might have a deal."

"That's all you want?" I asked. I lifted my glass to my lips, taking a hearty sip and feeling my control dwindle just a hair. "You can have anything, and you want clients?"

"Yes," she replied as if it were obvious.

"Deal."

"Wait. Not a deal yet," she drawled, her lips twitching up at the corner. "I'm assuming that pretending to be in a relationship with you is going to include some… intimate things in public. I want to know how far you expect us to go."

Jesus. I can't talk about this with you, not now, not when my cock is doing half of my thinking and my control is slipping. "Don't tell me you're already excited to kiss me," I teased, the words falling from my tongue like molasses, soft and smooth. Too much, but I didn't care.

She scoffed, her cheeks reddening. "You wish I was. Don't let your ego get the best of you, Jackson."

I chuckled as I stood, my mind swimming with far too many thoughts of having her in my arms, my lips against hers, my cock… Stop. Calm down. "It won't be any more than what you typically see in photos of other couples in the public eye. Kissing, holding hands. Looking at me like you want me, but based on that blush on your cheeks, that one shouldn't be hard."

Her blush deepened, this time with what I was surewas irritation. "I'm practicing," she lied. "Don't fool yourself."

"Is that right?" I asked, stepping around the table that separated us. I leaned forward, holding my weight with one hand on the armrest and the other on the back of the sofa, caging her in. I could smell her perfume, see her chest rising and falling, the goosebumps breaking out along her neck. "Just practicing, princess?"

"Yes," she breathed.

I leaned in a little closer, our breaths mingling, and lifted one hand to her cheek. My heart raced in my chest just from touching her, from being so close to her. "Then I hope you don't mind if I practice a little myself."

Her pulse thrummed beneath my fingertips as I brushed them along her jaw, her throat, the back of her neck. So soft, so warm.

"No one's in here to take our photo, Mandy. You can tell me to stop," I whispered, brushing my nose against her cheek as I greedily took in more of her scent. I could smell the hint of Lagavulin on her breath, could practically taste her perfume. "But you don't want me to stop, do you?"

She breathed in, rough and shaky. "You're an asshole, Jack."

I rolled my eyes, moving swiftly before she could object, wrapping one hand around the small of her waist. I hoisted her up off the sofa, the little shriek she made only making it that much better and exciting me even more. I carried her over to the large window that separated her personal office from the seating area and pressed her against it.

She looked up at me, confusion blaring in her half-lidded eyes. I didn't want to step away. I'd take what I could get, even if it was only a drop.

"Jack—?"

I couldn't stop myself.

I needed her.

I needed this.

I pressed my lips to hers before I could talk myself out of it.