Queen In Play (The Manhattan Tales Book 2) (14 page)

14.  Jillian Pryor

Graduation Day finally arrived and the weather was perfect for this Saturday commencement.   I’d gotten my grades back from all of my classes, and despite the drama of this last semester, my grade point average was very good.  I was pleased with myself for pulling through, and not allowing all of the drama to drag my grades down.

“Travis!”  I squealed like a silly girl as I ran into the arms of my brother.  He picked me up and twirled me around as he used to when I was little.  The force was enough to knock my graduation cap off my head.  I kept my arms around him in the biggest bear embrace.  Adrenaline from the excitement of seeing my family coursed through me.

Travis grinned and set me back down on my feet just outside the Yankees Stadium. Crowds were everywhere and I felt squashed against my brother as people pushed past us to file into the stadium. The commencement was uniting all the schools and colleges of New York University inside this grand stadium in the Bronx.  For me, this was going to be a major event, even if I’d be sitting my ass down for a long time.

I managed to hold Travis at arms length and looked at him.  His chestnut hair had grown out to a somewhat shaggy mess, but it suited him.  His usual, rugged wardrobe was replaced today with a blue and white checkered button-down and jeans with a hole at the knee, and converse. 
Okay well, at least his shirt is ironed.

“Sweetheart, be careful.  You will wrinkle your commencement gown.”  Mom said as she appeared just beside Travis and wrapped her arms around me.  I held her tightly.  So tightly.  It brought tears to my eyes to see mom and Travis again, and my heart swelled.  I didn’t want to let her go, but we did have a ceremony to attend.

“How was the drive from Ohio?”  I asked.

Mom and Travis looked at me curiously.  “We took the flight you emailed,” my mom said with a raised brow.

I didn’t book a flight for them… Who has that kind of money?  Mason.

“This is the last time I’ll accept.  If the ticket was refundable, I would have taken the car,” Travis added.  “You need to be saving money.  I didn’t realize your new job paid that well.” 

“Traffic can be rough and I was worried the car might break down or something.”  That was the truth.  I had been concerned that my mom and Travis wouldn’t make it to New York in time, especially since Travis mentioned that they’d be leaving the morning before because of his work schedule.  I blabbed my frustrations to Mason one evening as I refilled my wine glass.  He’d been standoffish and distant that night; I didn’t think he was actually listening. I assumed he was just fuming over the idea of having to face Travis again.

Why wouldn’t he tell me that he booked my mom and brother a flight
?  I’ll have to thank him later.

“I’m dying to meet this boyfriend of yours,” mom said with a smile.

“Heh.  You’ll see him later.” 

You met him years ago.

I never told mom and Travis about Mason.  It wasn’t a conversation I could have over the phone, given our history with Mason.  This was something that I needed to tell them in person.  I wasn’t sure how Travis was going to handle this news, and that part made me nervous.  As it was, Mason was very cold every time I mentioned mom and Travis, especially Travis.  My heart swelled in my chest when I realized he had purchased their flights, though.

****

Commencement was as exciting as could be expected.  A Spring breeze kept trying to knock my cap off my head.  I should have clipped my hair away from my face.  I nearly tripped over my heels as I took the steps to shake the Dean’s hand and receive my diploma.  A breeze blew my hair into my face and it stuck to my lip gloss.  It was definitely not a Hollywood movie moment.  As I shook the Dean’s hand, I took a quick scan of the crowd in the stadium seating.  I remember doing the same thing at my High School graduation when I received my diploma.  I saw Mom sitting with Travis.  The spot next to Mom was empty, and my heart suddenly dropped to my stomach.  He skipped another Graduation.

No, he didn’t.
  Just before I turned to exit the stage, I spotted him standing a few rows above mom and Travis.  He was holding a bouquet of orange Lilies, wearing a dark blue button down with the sleeves rolled up half-way, and Khakis.  He grinned at me, and winked.
He was so gorgeous.
My stomach did a double flip-flop and I gave him an ear-splitting grin.  Relief and pure joy washed over me.

After commencement, students gathered with their families to take photos and receive congratulations.  The breeze kept whipping my hair into my face and I was desperate for a hair tie.  Mason stood off to the side while I had pictures taken with Mom and Travis.  They didn’t realize he was there, standing off to the side, and it felt awkward.

I didn’t understand.  Was he still angry with Travis?  Sooner or later, my family would have to learn about him because he was taking us all out to dinner to celebrate my graduation.. and  I wanted to get him in the picture.

“Mason!”  I waved him over, and I watched as he visibly stiffened.  His expression was a glare in my direction, for the briefest of moments, before he succumbed and walked in my direction.

I didn’t want to give anyone any momentum for reaction.  “Mom, can you take a picture of us?” 

My mom stood there, shocked for a moment.  Okay, perhaps I should have given everyone some time to process this sudden transition.

I couldn’t look at Travis, even though I felt his icy gaze on us.  The immediate tension was so thick between my brother and my boyfriend.  It was smothering. Suffocating.  Maybe dinner afterwards was not such a good idea…

Mom lightened some of the tension when she suddenly grabbed Mason in a huge embrace.

“Oh honey, how are you?  We missed you.”  Her eyes were teary.  She was always an emotional person.

Awkward.

Mason was rigid in her embrace, just as he was the very first time I hugged him in the back of his Benz when he picked me up outside the Starbucks months ago.

“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Pryor,” Mason murmured and lightly hugged her in return.

Mom and Mason relaxed their embrace.

“Alright, smile, you two. Today is a happy day!”  She coached as she positioned the camera.  Mason remained stiff at my side, like he was afraid to touch me. The disapproval radiated off my brother, and was ruining the pictures.

I grinned as I wrapped one hand around Mason’s waist.  I could still feel how tense he was, with Travis quietly staring.  Mom took about fifty pictures of me with Mason.  When pictures were finished, I turned to look at Travis.  His jaw was set, his mouth in a firm line.  Confused, with a
what the fuck
expression clearly etched on his face. 

“Jill, I didn’t know you were talking to Mason.”  He said in a very pensive tone as we all walked to the parking lot.  I never liked that tone.  He used that tone during my teenage years whenever I tried to lie about something.

“Yes…” I answered.

“Jillian reached out to me a few months ago,” Mason responded in just as stoic a tone.

“Hm.”  That was my brother’s only reply as we continued walking.

Tension.  The rental car was only a few yards away.  We can make it.

“Oh, for goodness sake!” My mother suddenly threw her hands up in the air.  “Whatever happened between you two- it was years ago.  You were much younger then, with less wisdom.  Can’t you put it past you?”

Damn, Mom.
 

Silence followed.  My brother looked straight forward, not making eye contact with anyone.  His mouth was still clamped in a tight line.

“Of course, Mrs. Pryor,” Mason responded calmly in his professional tone, which he used when addressing staff.  “It was another lifetime ago.  Now, I’d like to take everyone out to dinner to celebrate Jillian’s big day.”

Travis raked a hand through his hair.  “That’s fine.  I’ll pick up the tab.”

“No, it’s my treat.”  Mason answered in a demure tone.

“I’ll treat
my
own mother and sister, thanks.”

“You can treat yourself, but I’m picking up the rest of the tab.”  Mason’s tone became more stern.  His nostrils flared.

“Travis.”  I was getting annoyed.  My brother said nothing more and I knew he wasn’t about to spoil the day for all of us.

15.  Mason Woodward

You’re fucking my sister, and I know it.
 

I could see it plainly on his face as he sat across from me at the table in Carlito’s.  He was uncomfortable sitting here with me, and I was equally uncomfortable, although my upbringing allowed for me to mask it.  There were times when I wished for things to go back to the way they had been when Travis and I were younger.  Those days were more carefree- filled with my days at the office, and my nights going to rock clubs with Travis.  Those years had been filled with booze, sports games, music and constant arguments about which team or band was better.  That was our friendship.  Things could never go back to that point, and perhaps if things never changed, I wouldn’t have Jillian in the way I do now.  She is the anchor to my sanity.

I felt her reach over and squeeze my hand.  It was difficult to not rove my eyes over her mint green sun dress.  It was dipped just low enough to leave room for my imagination, not that I needed to use my imagination.  I knew what those beautiful breasts looked like, and I couldn’t wait to tear that dress away and suck on those perfect, pink nipples later tonight.

****

I had to wait four fucking days to meet with Ian Brennan.  He claimed he was in Ireland visiting his Gran. 
Right. Bollocks.
I’m certain he stopped in California along the way to
visit his mum.
  I kept Jillian at my penthouse;  I needed to keep her close by and within my line of vision.  While I was at the office, I  ordered security to be blended in with the hotel staff. The men were also given specific instructions to discreetly follow her.

Of course, she didn’t know any of this.  I wasn’t about to alarm her and give her paranoia, at least not until I had a chance to sit down and hopefully have an adult conversation with Ian.  I’d arranged with him to meet me in my office at two o’clock on the Thursday following Jillian’s graduation.

The day was crap, and filled with stress aside from my impending meeting with this fraud of a man.  My father harassed my personal office line throughout the morning, and I could keep him at bay for only so long.

I phoned him back around noon, prepared to hear the vomit that would pour from his mouth this time. 

“Do you have any idea what kind of buzz the media is creating around you?”  My father asked with malice in his voice.

I rubbed the stubble on my chin as I looked out at the expansive view of Manhattan.

“Do you think I give two fucks?”  I asked.  I’ve reached my limit. 
Cut me off.  He’d be doing me a favor.

“The media is having a field day with this gold digging whore.  There are several photographs of you both around the city.  You attended her college graduation?  Son, what sort of game are you playing at?”

I wasn’t going to defend Jillian to my father.  Defending her would only infuriate him further, and provide additional information which he didn’t need to have about her.  There is no reasoning with a sociopath like my father.  We’re talking about a man who possibly hired a hitman to create a “boating accident” and an
Accidental
fall down the stairs.  My father is a smart businessman, but he’s not a genius.  These accidents are much too coincidental.  They are timed too closely…

My old man scoffed.  “You might give two fucks when you realize you’re out on your ass, alone, in the dark.”  These threats were outdated, and amateur at best.

“Alright.”  I replied casually.  What the hell else am I supposed to say?  I’d let him bitch, and then continue on with my day.  My calm state only angered my father further.

“I never liked you hanging out with that Pryor shithead in your youth, and now you’re playing games by letting your dick roam to his sister.”

My brow furrowed.  Now he had my attention. 

“You never liked it, but you tolerated it.”  I wanted to see what he’d have to say about this.

“Tolerated it?  Is that what you think?”  My father sneered.  My nostrils flared.

“Well, yes… you never did much to prevent our friendship.”

My father chuckled.  My heart suddenly hammered in my chest from that chuckle.  It sent a chill down my spine.

“It no longer matters, dad. My friendship with that man has been over for years since he slept with Ella.”

“Yes.  Yes I suppose it is.”  His tone was amused, yet callous.  My blood boiled in my veins.

“I will remind you of one simple fact, Mason.  You are my one and only son.” 
How unfortunate for me.

“Do you truly believe that I would turn everything over to my nephew without enforcing a bit of action?  Yes, he is my nephew, however, you are my
son
- a perfectly healthy, able-bodied and strong man.  You just need a good kick in the ass to set you on the right path. Why the fuck would I disinherit you without taking full advantage of my resources first?”  He was angry, malicious and threatening.

The chill down my spine only magnified tenfold, enough to make the hairs on my arms and scalp stand on end.  Nobody has ever had such an effect on me in this way as my father did with  me.

“I’m a very powerful man, son.  Do remember this.  I have many people in my pocket and I will do what is necessary to secure our family’s legacy.”

I could no longer think clearly in this moment.  My father sucked all the oxygen from my lungs with his threats. 

“You might have powerful resources busy sucking your dick, but remember this, dad:  The apple doesn’t fall far from the fucking tree.”  I slammed the phone back down on the receiver.  I was finished with this conversation.  I was no longer going to be his punching bag. 

I hit the
Do Not Disturb
button on my office phone, then paced wildly back and forth, in privacy behind my locked door.  I was like a caged animal; I felt my sanity slipping...
again
. He threatened Jillian’s safety… because of me.  I’d do whatever necessary to keep my love safe. 
She is my Jillian.  MINE.

My vision was blurred when I phoned my housekeeper, Mrs. O’Malley, to bring me a coffee.  Perhaps some caffeine would rejuvenate my thought process and help me think clearly.

Approximately twenty minutes later, my angel sends me a text message.  She must have been talking with Mrs. O’Malley.

Jill:  Is everything ok??

I thumbed an answer back:
The day can just fuck right off.

There was no reply from her.  I assumed my mood scared her off.  I had that effect on everyone when I hit this downward spiral. As it was, I had the rest of the staff scattering like lost bugs every time I left my office. I wasn’t only enraged from my father’s threats over the phone.  My meeting with Ian was in just thirty minutes, and the impending outcome of it had me on edge.

****

Forty-five minutes late.
  I was forced to cancel all meetings until four o’clock.
Fuck the coffee.
  Mrs. O’Malley promised she’d bring my mug as soon as she was able.  I was no longer concerned with caffeine.  I was concerned with Ian’s tardiness and possible no-show.  I was beginning to question his level of talent and professionalism in whatever it was that he did for a living.  I no longer believed he was an actual consultant.  My father never met with consultants only once, and those meetings were never in his office.  They were reserved for the meeting rooms.

I pulled a flask of whiskey from my top desk drawer and took a swig.  It felt like I was dangling off a cliff, stressed about Jillian’s safety.  Some of the possibilities which floated around in my mind caused a knot to form in my stomach. 

Talk to Ian first, before you jump to any conclusions.

The rational side of me was clawing at the surface, and I took another swig.

Beep.
  Elizabeth paged my office.

“Mr. Woodward, your … two o’clock appointment is here.”  She said this hesitantly, because the prick was almost an hour late for our meeting. 

Thank fuck he even showed at all.

“Wonderful, Elizabeth.  Show him in, please.”  My tone was unnaturally demure as I spoke into the intercom.  I kept my whiskey flask on the desk and took a seat in my office chair.

Within a minute, the joker struts into my office with a half-smirk on his face, very similar to the one I examined in his adolescent mug shot.

“Mr. Brennan, please have a seat.”  I gestured to the set of dark leather chairs facing my desk, while remaining as professional as humanly possible.  “May I offer you something to drink?”

The fucker just smirked at me while he slumped down in the chair.  He perched his feet up onto the edge of my desk.  I eyed his shoes on my desk, attempting to maintain my composure.

“Drinking during a business meeting is highly unprofessional, Mason.  No wonder your dad questions whether you can run the company.”

I took a swig from my flask, eying him the whole time. 
Keep it together, keep it together.

“I have coffee or tea for the pussies,” I responded with a polite smile.  “Would you prefer that?”

“Nope.”  He kept his feet in position on my desk.  I’d have to get those scuff marks removed later.

We stared at  one another for several minutes, each measuring the other up.  The man would not stop smirking.  I wanted to punch it off his face.

“I understand you were in Ireland recently.  How is your
Gran
?”  I asked, while trying to get a good read on him.  Unlike most individuals I’d interacted with, this one was difficult to read… because he wouldn’t stop smiling.  Nobody smiles that much unless they’re up to no good.

The bloke actually stopped grinning, for once.  He looked at me with a quizzical expression.  “I never said I had a Gran.  She’s dead, God rest her soul.”  He made a sign of the cross and then blew a kiss toward my ceiling.

I’m dealing with a psychopath.  Brilliant.  Enough of this bullshit.

I cleared my throat.  “I’m curious to know what you were doing in my father’s office.”  I assessed him carefully.  I was treading on dangerous grounds.  The man was obviously keen, regardless of his mental state, and was sizing me up as much as I was doing the same to him.

“Oh, I was hired to kill Jillian.”

I recall staring at him blankly, astounded by his extremely blunt confession, and carelessness on the subject.

The knot in my stomach was twisting uncomfortably.  I wanted to throttle him and throw him through my forty-second floor window.  I was about to combust with rage.  This is the man who hurt my Jillian. I noted how his eyebrow piqued, discerning my fury.

Tread carefully.  Tread carefully.

I nodded as I felt my chest constrict. 
My own father hired a hitman to kill Jillian
.  I inhaled and exhaled deeply to relax my tightened muscles.

“Am I correct in assuming that Tanaka did not die in a boating accident?”  I asked this as calmly as possible.

“Yep.”  Another fucking grin. 

“If you were hired to kill Jillian, why is she still alive?”

Ian arched a brow at me again.  His eyes glinted and matched the half-smirk on his face.

“That’s easy.  My expertise lies in making it all look like an
accident
. Your dad didn’t want any broken necks, no blood, no suffocation… just make the whole thing look like an accident.”  He shrugged.  “That doesn’t leave me with a whole lot of wiggle room, eh?  I pushed her down the stairs, knowing it wouldn’t kill her, but would send her to the hospital.  There, I could slip a little something-something into her IV drip.”  He grinned.

I was not smiling.  I was ready to commit murder in this office, and then again in London.

“After you two broke it off, your dad tore his end of the deal. He didn’t feel she was worth the extra money for killing. I don’t fancy contract withdrawals.  Once I get hired for my time, I intend to stick to it.  He’s just lucky he didn’t back out of the last deal.”  He gave me a knowing look, and then grinned.  He relaxed his hands behind his head, while I absorbed everything he’d said to me.  “So, what can I do you for?”

“Do you have any plans for an attempt on Jillian’s life?”  Since the sick shit was being so honest, I might as well ask blunt questions.

“No.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’d take the job if he hadn’t backed out on the lass the first time around.  I don’t do second chances with the same target.  That don’t mean he won’t hire someone else to finish the job.”

Nausea suddenly erupted within me.  I was going to be sick.  I wasn’t a trained professional like this man was.  I had an MBA from NYU, not a trained eye.  I didn’t know what to look for.  The security I’d hired to keep Jill safe could easily be picked off before anyone knew what was happening. I knew that much.

I took a deep breath.  It ripped my heart out to think I might lose Jillian, but I had to make a choice: Her life, or her heart? 
If I kept her with me, both would be lost.  Permanently.
The burden of this choice was excruciating.