Chapter 2

JACKSON 

Man, the sweat was just pouring off me, and my head was starting to throb from the loud music and flashing lights. I let my hands move over the hips of the girl I was dancing behind, and she leaned back into me. The thing was, I felt absolutely nothing. No excitement, no interest, just completely and utterly bored. All I really wanted to do was ditch this whole scene, go home, and veg out in front of the TV for a couple of hours.

"I'm gonna grab a drink, why don't you go dance with my buddies?" I yelled into the girl's ear. She gave me a pouty look over her shoulder, then sashayed her way over to Howard and Bryant, the Richardson brothers, who were tearing up the dance floor a few feet away. Howard grabbed her and pulled her close, dancing with her like there was no tomorrow.

He glanced across the dance floor at me and gave me a little nod, like a "thanks for the entertainment" gesture. I gave him a thumbs-up and started to head back upstairs to the VIP area where we'd been hanging out all night.

Even though the club was packed, people kind of parted and moved out of my way as I walked through the room. It's one of those weird perks of being tall and, well, ridiculously rich.

Pretty much everyone on the island knows who I am, and nobody wants to get on my bad side. When I finally reached our table, I pretty much collapsed onto one of the comfy leather benches and laid my head back, just staring up at the ceiling. My cousin, Dean, slid a glass of something across the table to me.

"What's eating you? That girl seemed pretty into you, why'd you ditch her?"

I sighed. How could I even begin to explain how I'd been feeling lately? I definitely couldn't complain, not really. Not about anything. I had the perfect life, at least on paper.

More money than anyone could spend in two lifetimes, women practically lining up, good friends and family who treated me like I was some kind of god. I even had a pretty awesome job, all things considered. But I was just… bored. Sometimes even bordering on miserable. I was tired of the constant parties, tired of the meaningless hookups, and – God forbid my father ever heard me say it – I was even kind of tired of the whole "being the golden boy" thing.

"I don't know, man," I told Dean. "Just not feeling it tonight."

He looked at me thoughtfully. He was my cousin, but also my best friend. More like a brother, really. I had four sisters and a ton of cousins, but Dean was the one I was closest to. We were only eight months apart in age, and his dad was my dad's brother. We were practically inseparable growing up. We even shared a tutor until we were old enough to go to boarding school in Wales and London. After that, we both went to Los Angeles University and played on the soccer team. Then we came back to Isle of Sheppey, and Dad made me the CFO of our automobile company, and Dean the Manager of Accounts Receivable – one of the many departments that reported directly to me.

"This is the third weekend in a row you haven't wanted to party. What's going on?"

This right here was why I usually kept my mouth shut. Dean and the rest of the family had these expectations of me. That I'd always be the happy-go-lucky golden boy, charming everyone, surrounded by beautiful women, generous to a fault.

The Isle of Sheppey was a pretty decent-sized island, and for generations, the Cole family had basically been the unofficial rulers. We owned most of the land, ran the biggest business on the island, and had more money than all the other islanders combined. More money than a lot of countries combined, actually.

And because of that, because of the money and the history, and because my father was practically the patron saint of Isle of Sheppey, I was treated like its prince. But with that came a whole lot of expectations.

Expectations that I'd behave like a benevolent dictator, taking what was mine, throwing a few scraps to everyone else, settling into my place in the family dynasty, and one day, when my father stepped down, I was destined to take over the whole operation. My entire life had been mapped out for me since the day I was born, but I wasn't so sure it was the life I actually wanted.

And I definitely couldn't tell Dean that. Because as much as my life was pre-planned, so was his. He had the role of the loyal second son. My right-hand man, the guy whose job it was to keep me happy and safe. When we weren't on the island, I had bodyguards who traveled with me, and Dean had been in charge of them since we were sixteen. Yeah, a sixteen-year-old boy was given the responsibility of keeping the heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune safe. He had a whole team of security specialists advising him, of course, but my dad said Dean needed to settle into his role as my closest advisor, a role he was expected to continue for life.

"Do you ever wish you had more choice?" I asked him, dodging a direct answer to his question.

"What do you mean? More choice in girls?" He grinned, clearly not understanding.

"No. God, get your head out of the gutter for five seconds. More choice in life. Do you ever wonder what you'd do differently if you weren't a Cole? If you could choose where to live and what job to have?"

He snorted like it was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard. "Hell no. Why would I? If I had a choice, I'd choose to be a Cole and do exactly what I'm doing now." He waved his arm around the crowded club, the flashing lights, the dancing bodies, the booming music.

"Doesn't get much better than this, bro."

I gave him a tight smile, knowing he'd never understand what I was feeling. No one in my family would. They did things the same way, generation after generation, and I loved them, but more and more lately, I wasn't sure I loved my life. Something was missing. I craved a challenge, a change of pace, something different.

Out of nowhere, an image of the girl I'd bumped into at the docks yesterday popped into my head. Her blonde hair blowing around her face in the breeze. The way she struggled with those suitcases that were practically as big as she was. I'd actually noticed her long before she'd stumbled into my arms. I'd even delayed my run because I'd seen her on the deck of the ferry.

There was just something about her – she was so different from the girls I usually encountered. I saw two basic types: the good Greek girls, raised to marry good Greek men, and the girls who hung out at this club, who would sleep with me whenever I wanted and were mostly vapid and superficial. In a way, they were just a modern version of the first type. Still spending their lives trying to please the world around them. Marry me or fuck me, it all came from the same place: make the prince happy.

But I could tell that the blonde girl on the ship didn't fit into either of those categories – and not just because she wasn't Greek. No, she was something else entirely. You could tell with one look that this girl knew exactly who she was, what she was doing, and where she was going. Even her little rant about the rules for getting off the ship was confident. Secretly, I agreed with her – what was the point of having the damn sign if nobody was going to follow the rules? But I'd argued with her because it was fascinating to watch her convictions. To see someone so sure of themselves and their beliefs that they'd argue with a complete stranger in a foreign country just moments after arriving.

And she'd left me thinking that I had no idea who I was or what I believed, because I'd never really had the chance to find out. Everything in my whole life had been handed to me on a silver platter. My interests, my job, my values, my very identity. Handed to me. No one had ever asked what I wanted. And that was the crux of it. No matter how amazing the prize, no one had ever asked if I actually wanted it. I wished I could be as sure as Dean that this was where I belonged, but lately, I'd been filled with doubt, and that was terrifying as hell because I wasn't sure if I'd ever have another choice.

Sunday mornings meant church in my family. 

Dean and I avoided it like the plague if we could – one, we were usually hungover from Saturday night, and two, Greek Orthodox church was a never-ending marathon of ceremonies and relatives you hadn't seen in years suddenly appearing out of the woodwork – but at least once a month we had to show up, and today was that day.

"God, my head is killing me," Dean groaned, adjusting his sunglasses as we trudged up the walkway to the church. "I thought I'd never get Yvette out of my bed this morning. Her voice was like someone hammering inside my skull."

I stretched dramatically, exaggerating every movement and sound. "Yeaaah, those solid eight hours of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep I got were so rough. Whole bed to myself. Nice, clean sheets. No screechy women."

"Dude. I got laid," Dean reminded me with a smirk. "You had to… jack off yourself this morning."

"Screw off," I said right before I looked up and saw my mother standing on the church steps right in front of me.

"Jackson!" she snapped, giving me that look that had been guilting me into moderately good behavior for twenty-four years.

"Sorry, Ma. I'm sorry." I leaned in and gave her a kiss on each cheek.

"Good morning, Jackson. How are you?"

She smiled, appeased by my sheepishness, and then greeted Dean too.

"I've gotta go find my mom," he said. "She thought I'd sworn off church for good. Had to prove her wrong."

"And he falls for the reverse psychology every single time," I muttered to no one in particular.

"Let's go in," my mother said, linking her arm through mine. "Daddy and the girls are already seated."

I was about to follow her when I heard a husky voice behind me.

"Jackson. Fancy meeting you here."

I turned to find myself face to face with a very unhappy Viola Dunn, my receptionist, and the woman I'd been… screwing… for the last few weeks.

"Uh, Ma, I'll be there in a few minutes," I said, knowing that whatever was about to happen shouldn't take place inside a house of worship.

My mother gave me a tight smile and looked at Juliet like she was something unpleasant she'd stepped in. Then she moved inside the building, and I gently steered Viola a few feet away from the church doors, out of the main flow of traffic. I could see all the older women in the congregation giving me the side-eye though, so I hoped this wouldn't get too messy.

"Thanks for the phone calls," Viola said, getting straight to the point.

I scratched the back of my head. I hated this part. I didn't go through women like Dean did, but I also didn't do the whole girlfriend thing, so anyone who hung out with me should understand the deal. Viola was hot, and I'd had fun with her, but it wasn't like I'd ever implied we were dating.

"Yeah, I've been tied up with things," I lied smoothly.

"Funny, because my friend Winny said you were out clubbing with Dean last night."

"Look, Vee—"

"Don't you dare," she hissed, her eyes flashing. "Don't you dare give me some speech about how I should have known the score and you never promised me anything. Guys make promises in all kinds of ways, Jackson. You didn't use words, but you've been sleeping in my bed and eating the food I cooked for you and sticking your hand up my skirt at work for the last three weeks. That definitely says certain things."

Yeah, I wasn't really seeing her logic, but whatever, she obviously had a different perspective.

"Look, I'm sorry if I misled you in any way. It wasn't my intention," I told her, trying to sound sincere. "The fact is, I'm just too busy for a real relationship right now. I like you, Vee, but I don't want a girlfriend at the moment."

Her eyes narrowed, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her arm draw back. No way was she going to slap me on the steps of a church.

I grabbed her wrist before she could connect, then I leaned in close to her face, keeping my voice low but putting every bit of future CEO authority I possessed into it.

"Listen up, because I won't say this again. It was fun, but we're done. I have no problems with you, but if you have one with me that you can't control, then you know where the door is. I'll give you a glowing recommendation, but I won't put up with any crap from you at work, or at my home, or in front of the goddamn church."

I think I might have just completely torpedoed any chance of getting into heaven. I really needed to watch my language.

Viola's eyes widened, and I saw her lip tremble ever so slightly.

She was a tough one, but I could tell I'd finally gotten through her defenses. I hadn't wanted to be harsh, but it was better to nip this in the bud before it escalated.

She wrenched her wrist from my hand and nodded once, a single, sharp movement. "Yes, sir, Mr. Cole," she whispered, her voice tight with barely suppressed anger. Then she turned and marched into the church, practically leaving scorch marks on the ground with every step she

took.

Yep. It was going to be a very long week at Cole's Automobile.