On My Knees (Stark International Trilogy 2)

Check out the pics. Not viral, but lots of shares. I look drunk, but hot. U look hot, and sober. Jackson looks like sex, but he always does.

There’s a link, and I click through. She’s right—we both do look hot. And Jackson, who is holding up Cass on the other side, looks good enough to eat. To be honest, if Cass didn’t look so wasted it would be a good picture to frame for my desk. Both Jackson and I have soft expressions, and though we’re clearly focused on keeping Cass upright, the moment is so gentle and sweet that I want to bend down and kiss his photo since the man himself isn’t right beside me.

I’m about to send her back a text thanking her for the link when she sends another message.

Zee saw pic and freaked. Said it looked like I was screwing both of U.

Be proud. I stood firm. Told her we were over.

It’s done. Holy fuck.

I respond immediately:

I am proud!!!!! U did good. Hold fast. We’ll find the right girl for u.

It takes a moment, but her reply when it comes through makes me smile:

In time for Halloween party wld be nice. And thx. XXOO.

And here are some more for your computer wallpaper.

There is another link, this one to images of Jackson and me. There is one of us at the table, just looking at each other, but the heat in our eyes is palpable. Another is positively awesome, and I hope that I can find a high-quality version so that I can print it. Because someone actually caught our dance—right when Jackson dipped me. The picture is slightly blurred, suggesting motion, and we both look like we couldn’t be having a better time if we tried. Frankly, that’s how I always feel with him.

These images come with captions, too, and I’m now the official subject of celebrity gossip, because I have been identified on social media as starchitect Jackson Steele’s girlfriend.

Honestly, I can’t say that I mind.

Love these, I text to Cass. Thx.

Her reply makes me frown.

:) But there are other pics, too. These might not make you happy. Is J around? Has he been online?

As far as I know, Jackson is on twenty-six with Lauren Crane, who has recently been promoted from the file room to work as his assistant until his secretary arrives from New York. If everything is going well, he’s walking the floor with her and giving both Lauren and the construction staff directions on where to put up walls and doors, where to set up drafting tables, and all the other minutiae that comes with getting his area built out the way he wants it.

Since a couple of guys from his New York staff are arriving in ten days with his secretary, he’s been crazy busy, and I would be seriously surprised if he’s noticed anything happening out in cyber-land.

I don’t say all of that to Cass, though. Instead, I just text back, I doubt he’s seen any pics. What up?

She responds with two links. The first leads to more advertising photos of me, some of which have been merged with recent images of Jackson and turned into social media graphics. Great. My childhood trauma has become someone else’s social media pastime. Isn’t that wonderful?

The second link is more immediate, and just as disturbing. On this site, I find a picture of Graham Elliott, his arm hooked buddy-buddy style around Jackson’s shoulders.

Well, hell.

My fears are confirmed when I get Cass’s next text:

Buzz is that the movie is a go and Graham is playing Jackson. Tell J not to blow a gasket.

I roll my eyes. Easier said than done.

I tell Cass I need to get back to work, which is technically true. But instead I scour the internet. Sure enough, the speculation is back about the movie, with the press opining that Graham was the go-between, healing the rift between Reed and Jackson Steele, who was recently arrested for assaulting the producer-director.

Isn’t that just so sweet?

I consider giving Jackson a heads-up, but decide that he has enough to worry about. Since there’s nothing he can do about the pictures and comments, I might as well wait until work is over and he has a drink in his hand.

I’m just settling back into work when my intercom buzzes. “Mr. Stark asked me to tell you that you and he and Mr. Ward and Mr. Steele are scheduled to have dinner at Cut 360. Seven tonight with Dallas Sykes. I’ve already told Mr. Ward,” Karen adds, referring to Aiden. “And he said to tell you that Mrs. Stark will be joining you.”

“Wait, slow down.” I click frantically on my computer to open my calendar. “I don’t know a thing about this.”

“Apparently Mr. Sykes is in town and wants to meet Mr. Steele. Mr. Stark said to apologize, but that you two need to be there unless it’s absolutely impossible.”

Which, I know, translates to just be there. Dallas Sykes is a gorgeous, brash, tabloid-friendly department store mogul who is also the primary investor in The Resort at Cortez.