“Why are you so shy?” she asks as the young guard’s face flushes bright red.
“Aww brother, he’s blushing,” Jessica says with a laugh. “You know it’s really not fair to keep such handsome young men locked away from the world up here. “
“Shut up, Jessica,” Andrew says. He looks at the bodyguard, “Well, what’s the news?”
“We’ve found Mr. Oliver,” the guard says.
“You found Jackson?” Jessica asks, digging her nails into the guard’s arm. “Where is he? Hurry up and tell me! I need to go see him right now.”
“Well, he’s at the police station,” the guard says. “He’s actually been arrested.”
“Arrested?” Jessica screams. “What do you mean? What happened? Tell me, you stupid man.”
“My contact at the police station said he was arrested for a prostitution incident,” the guard says, looking down at his black boots. “It happened at the hotel above The Palm House.”
“Prostitution?” Jessica screams so loudly, Andrew worries the windows might break.
“Uh-huh, that’s right,” the guard says.
“That’s impossible,” Jessica says, but her face is almost as red as her shirt. “Jackson isn’t that kind of man—he’d never do something like that. I mean, we have our problems, but he just wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m just telling you what my friend at the police station told me,” the guard says.
“It must be the woman’s fault,” Jessica says. “Jackson would never do anything like that. I bet she seduced him with some cheap trick. I’m going down there immediately to see what happened.”
When she runs out of the room, Andrew breathes a sigh of relief. The guard seems to relax too. If this news gets Jessica to leave the mansion, then I’m glad Jackson’s been arrested, Andrew thinks. I was beginning to worry she’d never leave.
“Mr. Clifford, I have some other news too,” the guard says. “There have been rumors that some fishermen have seen Charles Meyer.”
“Where were these fishermen?” Andrew asks. “And when did they see Charles?”
“I’m not sure yet,” the guard says. “Some of our people are investigating right now and trying to figure out the details.”
Andrew leaves the study in time to find a team of four bodyguards struggling to carry Jessica’s suitcases down the stairs. The men grunt and complain about the weight of the leather bags.
“Careful with those,” Jessica says. She turns to Andrew and smiles a nasty little smile. “Do you want to come along too, brother?”
Andrew shakes his head, “I’m going somewhere else, but good luck at the station.”
Gabrielle sits side by side with Jackson in the interrogation room. The walls are painted a dirty shade of beige, and the hard, flat chair digs into her back. There’s a handcuff on her right wrist connected to a long chain on the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she looks at Jackson. He seems completely unconcerned by the prostitution charges and the handcuff. She wonders if this sort of thing is normal for him.
“Tell me again about the credit card,” the officer says.
“The card belongs to me,” Gabrielle answers honestly. “I’ve already said that.”
“I didn’t ask you,” the officer says. “I asked the man.”
Jackson shrugs and answers, “It’s her card.”
“Do you mean it was her card all along, or you gave it to her in payment for her s.e.x.u.a.l services?” the officer asks.
Gabrielle can feel her face darkening. She doesn’t understand why the officer refuses to believe that she’s not a p.r.o.s.t.i.t.u.t.e. She wishes that her name was written on the card so she could prove that it’s hers.
“Don’t you dare say that again,” Jackson shouts. “I didn’t hire a p.r.o.s.t.i.t.u.t.e. I clearly don’t need to.”
The officer pounds a fist into the table. Gabrielle flinches back, but Jackson looks calm as ever. A speaker on the ceiling crackles, and a voice come through.
“The man’s family is here to bail him out,” the voice says.
Gabrielle looks at Jackson. His lips were pressed into an arrogant smirk, and he winks at Gabrielle as if to say I-told-you-so. She grinds her teeth and takes a deep breath.
She was hoping the police would accuse Jackson of r.a.p.e, but they refuse to listen to her side of the story. They’ve already been in the station for hours, and she’s starting to wonder if she’ll ever be allowed to leave. She can feel a cold sweat creep over her skin every time she thinks about spending the night in the station.
“Can you ask your family to bail me out, too?” Gabrielle asks Jackson. “It’s only fair. They may not believe me, but you know what you did.”
Gabrielle knows she can’t call her own family—they’d probably side with the police. If she explained everything about the accident and Jackson’s fake amnesia, they’d be even more angry with her. She thinks about calling Leilani, but she’s not entirely sure where Leilani is. Besides, the thought of explaining everything to Leilani makes her want to die with shame.
“No, I won’t,” Jackson says, sounding like a stubborn child. “Why should I? You just told the officers that you don’t know me.”
“You’ve known me in the most intimate sense,” Gabrielle says, feeling her ears go red.
“Who was it who called the police and got us into this mess?” Jackson asks.
“I did,” Gabrielle whispers.
“And who keeps accusing me of r.a.p.e?” Jackson asks.
“It’s me,” Gabrielle says. “And you know the charges are true.”
“Let me get this straight, you want me to bail you out, and at the same time you’re accusing me of r.a.p.e?” Jackson asks with a mean smirk. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because somewhere buried deep beneath all your arrogance and attitude, you have a conscience,” Gabrielle says. “I looked after you for months, and you took advantage of me the whole time. You lied about your amnesia, you stole my money, and now you—well, the least you can do is get me out of here.”
“How do you know I lied about my amnesia?” Jackson asks.
“If you were telling the truth, you wouldn’t remember your favorite restaurant or Jessica’s name,” Gabrielle says.
“Well, you’re not as stupid as you look,” Jackson says.
The door flew open, and high heels clatter across the floor. Gabrielle turns her head and sees a woman dressed in a low-cut red tank top. The woman’s b.r.e.a.s.ts bounce as she runs across the room, and her hair flies out behind her—the woman is like a fireball.
“Darling, I missed you so much,” the woman says, throwing herself at Jackson. “Where have you been all this time?”
“Who are you?” Jackson asks, trying to push her away with the hand free from the handcuffs.
“What do you mean? I’m Jessica Clifford—your wife,” Jessica says. “What’s the matter with you? I know I made a mistake, but I’m so, so sorry, and I know we can work this out.”
So this is the Jessica he was talking about, Gabrielle thinks. I can’t believe he’s married to Jessica Clifford. Gabrielle looks at the woman and wonders how she’s related to Andrew. If Andrew is like ice, this Jessica is pure fire. Suddenly, Jessica turns and glares at Gabrielle.
“Are you the filthy whore who seduced him?” Jessica asks.
“No, no,” Gabrielle says, shaking her head. “I-I didn’t.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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