Page 21 of Her Submission (Monica & Henry #2)

Right in the Devil’s Eye

She had to be secretive. The only one who knew was Ethan, and that was because he put the idea in her head.

The Chateau was too far, too isolated. She was surrounded by allies there, but it was also too obvious. She needed to invite Jackson somewhere that was her turf, but allowed for a quick escape where nobody would see them together.

So, she sent the invitation and made it clear to the employees of Le Salon that they were not coming early on Sunday. Since the renovators weren’t working that day, she had the whole floor to herself as she shut off the cameras in the Salon and prepared a drink for her guest.

It was the first thing he commented on.

“A daiquiri with lime. Bet it’s Plantation, too.”

Jackson removed his hat upon entering the Salon and acted as if he had been there a hundred times before as he picked a seat with a view of the skyline beyond the windows.

“You always remember what drink a man likes.”

Monica tossed his hat onto the bartop and met him in the sitting area. This time, she did not wear clothing that she knew would appeal to his tastes. Instead, she wore something for her.

A pantsuit. The only thing that gave away to her family was that something was different that day. Because Monica only owned two pantsuits, and this was one of them. Even in the depth of winter, when the world was a blanket of snow and nightly frost, she would rather wear a wool dress and heavy coat instead of pants.

“Aren’t you going to have anything?”

he asked when she sat with nothing to drink.

“Or is this just for me?”

Monica kept her cool as she watched him drink.

“I’m not thirsty.”

He looked around the room, taking in the modern décor that appealed to the wealthy masses but still perfectly reflected Monica’s sophistication. My stamp is on every glass, every pillow in this place. Even more so than the Chateau.

“You said you wanted to personally thank me for my help finding your daughter. I take it that little Abigail is doing just fine. I’ve seen you on the news, after all.”

Monica was quiet. She knew he’d keep talking.

“But if you only cared about that, you would have kept it to a phone call. I know you have no desire to see me, let alone so… clandestinely. Nobody knows we’re meeting, do they?”

“I’d prefer we kept this to ourselves, yes.”

“So, then. What’s happened? If it’s something to do with the Beaumonts, I’m not sure I can offer more help. I want Jean-Pierre to keep believing I had nothing to do with this. He thinks you and I haven’t spoken since you married Henry Warren. How is old Hen, anyway? Still have that giant stick up his ass?”

Monica ignored that. Which was easy, since she had the folder with the Onyx Blue investor information beneath the table. She left it prominently open for Jackson to peruse.

“This is your company, isn’t it?”

Jackson took another sip of his daiquiri before leaning forward to grab the paper.

“You know I love a good onyx, Monica.”

“Don’t toy with me. I want to know why you’re pumping millions into my business.”

He cocked his head as he read through the report.

“My, was it really this much? I guess I knew a good thing when I saw it. Especially when some of your first earnings reports went public right before the pandemic.”

“And things dived after that. Yet here came Onyx Blue to the rescue. Keeping us afloat and helping me not only open the Salon a few years ago but expand next door.”

A chuckle unnerved her, but she wouldn’t let it show.

“Indeed. How fortuitous for you.”

“Why, Jackson? Why are you investing so much money into me? It’s making the IRS nervous.”

This time, she was the one who didn’t let him answer.

“Does it have to do with them? Are you laundering money through me?”

“Laundering… mon… oh, dear. No, no, Monica. Actually, I had no idea you were having tax troubles. Guess that comes with the territory of what you do. All of that naughty skinship your girls show the gentlemen who frequent that place. Why, the stories I’ve heard from Jean-Pierre… especially about a woman named, oh…”

It was no accident that he picked the name he did. “Judith?”

Judith can take care of her own reputation.

“Don’t tell me you’ve become a silent investor because you just wanted to.”

“What if I did?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want. I know a good thing when I see it. The ROI in the checks you’ve cut Onyx Blue, whether you realize it or not… let’s just say I’m looking forward to how things go with your expansion here. I think you’re the one who gives the Monroes a run for their money. Tell me, is Damon still harassing you?”

“Damon’s never ‘harassed’ me.”

“Quite, I’m sure.”

That smarmy smile did not set Monica at ease. If anything, it was coming closer, wasn’t it.

“Tell you what, Monica. I’m willing to make a deal with you. For old time’s sake.”

She already hated it.

“Sell me the Chateau, and all your troubles will be behind you.”

Yes. I hate it. Yet it caught her off guard enough that her eyes widened, giving away how she felt.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m serious. Because I’ve invested so much, I see your statements quite clearly, and I like what I see. I could become quite the happy man if I owned the Chateau. Even as a silent owner. Hire whichever girl you recommend to manage it for me. I’d barely talk to her. Unless she’s been bad at it, of course.”

He’s going after Judith again. Surely, he must have known that Judith was all but in charge of whatever Monica wasn’t overseeing for herself.

“That’s not happening.”

“Why not? Think about it, Monica. The Chateau is your baby, but it’s also a shackle around your wrists that keeps you from your real baby. That sweet little blonde-haired girl who makes you a mother.”

“Don’t talk about my daughter.”

“But that’s what all of this is about, right? We’re here because of Abigail.”

She hated the way he said her daughter’s name. She hated how he looked at her, his tongue flicking against his lip. She hated how easy it was for him to get under her skin after all these years, after all of the pain and trauma he put her through when she was young and na?ve. Ethan thought he was na?ve? Nothing compared to how Monica continued to beat herself up.

“If you free yourself from the Chateau, you won’t ever have to go back up there again. You can stay in the city, with your lovely Salon and your expanding urban projects. Besides, nobody does full-service work here, right? You won’t be in anybody’s crosshairs like you are up in the mountains. Let me take care of your girls. I know more people in politics than you.”

“What makes you think I don’t know enough people in politics?”

Didn’t matter their affiliation or political background – Monica knew everyone at the local and state level. Some she had hosted fundraisers for. Others were customers and clients of her enterprises. And some were known quantities she kept an eye on because she knew they would love nothing more than to knock the Warrens down a peg. The kind who don’t like women who know their worth.

“Despite your chosen profession, you’re still a goody-two-shoes. Your idea of a political bribe is to hook a man up with your best girl on the roster. But you’d still charge him.”

Monica didn’t take the bait with that.

“I’m not selling the Chateau to anybody. I’d rather close up shop than sell it.”

She let the emphasis on that word convey what she really meant. Sell it to you. There are a half dozen other people and companies she could approach first if she was that hard up. If Judith couldn’t buy her out at this point, then Ethan could do it. Or – and Monica wouldn’t think twice about it – she’d sell it all to the Monroes. They would know what to do with it if anything.

“You might not have a choice soon.”

Jackson flicked the side of his daiquiri glass.

“Just remember, I’ve given you an out.”

“And why should I take it? It’s almost like you set this up so I’d think I have no choice.”

“You know I’m not a big chess player, Monica. 3D, 4D… hmph, no matter how high you go, I’m still down here figuring out which piece is which. Do you think I would invest in something like this and the Chateau to get to you?”

He didn’t let her formulate an answer.

“There are so many other ways I could make your life hell if I wanted to focus my time on that. Which I don’t. I’ve got other things to do in the ten years since you left me. Although… it's fascinating to think that you and I could have been celebrating our twentieth anniversary this year.”

Even ten years was a decade too long with you. Monica didn’t try to paint those earlier years with Jackson as anything but how she had experienced them. Wonderful. Loving. Endearing. In retrospect, many of the signs of Jackson’s possessive narcissism were there, but it took years for it to come out in full. The things Monica overlooked in the beginning were too few and in between for her to know better at that young age. Now? She knew the lessons. She knew what to look out for. What to hear in his voice.

He would never admit to trying to get to her. He probably didn’t want her to notice.

“I’m not selling,”

she reiterated.

“And it’s probably a good idea for you to no longer invest in my business. I’m happy to return what money I have of yours left and, of course, forward your share of profits when they come in. But after that, please do not touch any of my portfolios again.”

“You can’t stop a man from investing in the best business opportunities, Monica.”

Watch me.

“You’ve heard my answer. Kindly remove yourself from my business. The only reason I contacted you a couple of weeks ago was because you were the only one who could help me. Now it’s time for us to part again.”

“Before or after you threaten me with a gun once more?”

He’s needling me. Now that Jackson was no longer her Dom, he had to find new ways to get to her. Haunting her subconscious had been enough for ten years, but now he yearned to make her suffer in more… corporeal ways. The closer he gets to me, the closer he gets to…

Abigail.

She stood up.

“I think I’ve given you plenty of myself over the years, Jackson. You don’t need the one thing I built from the ground up, too.”

He followed her to the door, plucking his hat off the bartop on his way by.

“Forgive me for plundering that businesslike mind of yours, Monica.”

When she least expected it, he picked up the pace and stood between her and the entrance to Le Salon.

“If I had known you had it in you when you were with me, I would have put it to better use.”

She kept her neutral countenance on hand, although she wanted nothing more than to sneer at him.

“You would have seen it more pertinent to keep me locked up in your mansion. I’d have been lucky to ever enter the city again.”

Her deadpan delivery caught him off guard, but Monica played a deeper, more dangerous game. So revealed when he advanced on her, pushing her up against the entryway wall.

Monica’s heart raced at a speed she knew wasn’t good for her. But when adrenaline reared its ugly head like this, she capitulated. What other choice did she have? He could do anything to me. God knew he probably thought about it. Fantasized about it.

And here was his chance. To show Monica who she was to him after all this time.

But he didn’t touch her. All Jackson did, as he made his point, was loom over her with the threat of violence. Something he was good at. At least, leading up to the actual violence.

“Never forget that you were mine first,”

he hissed.

“And I was as much yours.”

She pulled her lips into her mouth before she said something stupid.

“No matter what life you build, no matter what image you project to this world, Monica…”

His breath was hot on her face, toasting her lashes and licking her cheeks.

“I was your first Dom. I was the man who taught you everything you ever wanted to know. I am the reason you could build any of this crap to begin with. So, yes, I like to think I have a stake in it. It was our memories you’ve recreated here, after all.”

His knuckles grazed her cheek. She seized up against the wall, refusing to let his skin come close to her mouth. As her entire body radiated poison to ward him off, Jackson chuckled, as if her fear was still a game to him.

“I wonder what you will say to your little girl one day.”

Jackson straightened his hat on his head and checked for his wallet in his pocket.

“What will you tell her about me? You won’t be able to hide me from her forever.”

He showed himself out. A whole minute after the door clicked shut, Monica released the tension from her body, gasping for air and telling the traumatized woman of her youth still inside of her that he was gone. He was not coming back. There was nothing he could do to her.

Yet that part of her soul currently curled up on the floor, crying, couldn’t be consoled.

You’re safe. It’s safe. This is your safe place. You overcame him here. He didn’t violate it.

She slowly opened her eyes. She was still alone in Le Salon.

I should make sure he’s left the building. She could call down to the lobby, but it was easier to take a peek for herself. Besides, she needed fresh air before the customers started arriving in another ninety minutes.

Yet when Monica stepped out into the hallway, careful to ensure she had her keys on her, she was met with the cool and calculating look of someone she had not expected.

“How much of all that did you hear?”

she asked Judith, who stood right next to the front door with her key dangling from her hand.

“Not much. Enough.”

“I thought I told everyone not to come in early.”

“I haven’t come in, now have I?”

“Dancing around my instructions doesn’t mean I’m not angry at you.”

Judith pushed past Monica, unlocking the door.

“No need to be angry at myself. I’m sure you’re far angrier at yourself than you could ever be at me.”

She disappeared into the Salon. Monica, who had been so composed despite Jackson being so in her presence, finally broke down into the first fury of tears that she had been holding back. To be called out like that… so perfectly…

Her composure returned by the time she rode the elevator down to the lobby and maintained her professional fa?ade with the concierge and doorman. They knew what she was about.

The whole city did.