Page 56 of The Devil's Detail
I’ll just drink fast.
I walk through the house, and it all seems eerily quiet. As I get nearer the lounge area, again hardly any sound. Deathly silence.
Then I hear it. The voice. The upper-class British voice. It envelops me, caresses me. An old friend.
In a trance, I push open the doors… To a scene of carnage.
Jackson has Henry Blake up against a wall, his large hands around his throat. Henry is going blue, his face the picture of terrified. Freddie is being held back by Ash, thrashing around and striking out at Ash, but he might as well be a fly buzzing the Empire State Building. My assistant is cowering on the floor, sobbing, all the paperwork scattered around her. It’s like a scene from a gangster movie when the shit hits the fan.
I look at the man I love, and I don’t recognise him. His face is totally shut down. I stare at the mask of dread, and a tsunami of fear hits me all at once. I see the soldier, the warrior, the machine. I don’t see the man who smirked at me ten minutes ago. I don’t see the sexy demigod who made my heart race into oblivion at the Daisy Cafe. I see Jackson Fucking Greystone. Savage, feral, primal.
My hand opens involuntarily, and the magnum of champagne slips from my grip. It hits the floor with a bang,louder than a gunshot, shattering across the floor, the shards of green glass skidding out into the room. Splinters to walk on, for me to subjugate myself on. Showing me the way to hell.
His head spins my way, and when he opens his mouth, I know I have truly landed in hell. A hell of my own making.
“Well hello, Mr Bonney. Fancy meeting you here.”
36
Jackson
Five minutes earlier
“You’re such a twat. Are you really going to do thiswith him?” Ash smirks at me. “He is not for you, Jackson. He’s way too sweet. He’s actually a really good guy. You’ll chew him up and spit him out. Does he actually know you? Or have you only shown him Jackson Greystone, CEO.” Ash is eyeballing me. His tone is jokey, but I can spot the serious question underneath it all.
“Fuck off, Ash. Of course I’ve only ever shown him that. Why would I need to do anything else? It’s not like he’s on my shit list. No need to go nuclear when you don’t have to.” I shrug at him. But then I smirk at him as the reality of what’s happening sinks in. “And as for going there—Yes, I fucking am. Is that a problem for you?” I’m stood up anyway, but amend my stance to be a little combative.
Ash’s eyes go wide when he clocks it, putting his hands out towards me in surrender mode. “Whoa, whoa. I have no problem at all with it. Not an issue for me. To be honest, I don’t think it will be an issue for anyone at work. But for Carter… I’m not sure if he’s not had the full Greystone experience. You are a bit on the wild side. He, in comparison, is like a newborn kitten.” Opening his arms wide, he gestures to the gulf between us. “His life is so ordered. Go here, say this. Stand here, say and do that. All he does is move around the world, following orders.” He stops and looks at me. “His life is lived in a goldfish bowl, with bells and fucking whistles on it, so everyone knows where the goldfish is going to go next.” Shaking his head, he points a very intentional finger at me. “You, on the other hand, give the orders. Hide in the shadows most of the time. In fact, you live in the shadows. And you love it there.” His face is serious, his concern for Carter evident.
Ash has been with me a long time. Army, and then civilian life. He knows how we live. He knows how we survive at times in the ‘normal world’. How I’ve lived, the things I’ve done. The things we’ve done together. No wonder he’s concerned. To be honest, I would be if it weren’t me.
“You decide if you are taking orders or not. Or should I say, requests for help,” he continues. “You are in charge of all aspects of your life. He’s a grain of sand blowing on the beach. Which is weird to say, as he’s such a big star. But he is. One film bombing away from obscurity. You love obscurity, the more opaque the better.” He stops when he looks at my face.
“Do you think I haven’t thought about it?” I ask him quietly, unable to hide the menace in my voice. His face pales. He’s worried he’s overstepped the mark with me. He fucking should be. “I’ve thought of nothing else since I took off to Ireland. I’ve spoken to my family.” He nods, and I can see the relief in hiseyes. “Are you worried about Carter, or about me?” I ask him, not taking my eyes from his.
“You both. You’re such very opposites. But I know he thinks a lot about you. He talks about you all the time. Even when you ghosted him in Ireland. He’s all in, Jackson. You can see it in his face when you’re near.” He’s trying to be balanced, and I appreciate it, I know he cares.
“I know. I see it.” I sigh. “But I won’t know fully about how I feel unless I do it. Do I love the limelight? No. Do I want to be in the spotlight? Absolutely no. We’re both going to have to make adjustments if we do this. I’m prepared to give it a go. That’s as honest as I can be.”
I nod at him, showing him I appreciate the concern. And the honesty. “Keep an eye on us, Ash. We may need it with all the shit that can hit the fan. With the circus around Carter. Like this set of money grabbing tossers.” I aim a salacious smile at him. “Let’s go drink, and get them out of here.”
“Fucking hell. Most people would say you should be worried with Carter's reputation. I’m fucking worried for Carter.” He’s laughing at my face now.
“Well then, you’re doing your job right. And you are a good judge. So keep up the good work.” We both smile and I pat him on the back as we walk towards the lounge area.
The big mahogany doors are shut, but I can hear Freddie’s excitable voice from inside the room. Uncharacteristically squeaky, I hear the giggle of a female. And then it hits me full in the chest, stealing all my breath. I stop dead and Ash’s body reacts to mine. The soldier firing to life. He thinks we’re under attack. My body thinks it’s under attack, a trigger activated.
A voice. A very upper-class British voice. One I’ve heard before. One that’s haunted my dreams for a few months. Low and husky. Cut glass coming from inside the lounge.
My Jameson Bonney.
My head explodes, my thoughts running wild. The sound reverberates through my body, all hell breaking loose in my mind. It pulses through my veins.
When the fuck did he arrive? Is he one of the men in the room? Has he come for me? Is he connected to Carter? This film? Who the fuck is he?
I push open the doors with such force they swing back with a crash. Everyone sitting in the room is startled. My instincts hone in on the only person I don’t know. A younger, good looking guy—blond hair and blue eyed, cut jawline. But weirdly, his full lips are not moving. And the voice is still talking. Talking to a woman, telling her how beautiful she is.
What the fuck is going on?
