Yep, this was definitely Derrick’s fault. He ordered and manipulated. Looked like Jackson got stuck in his trap this time, too.
“I’m going to kill him.” Ellie had threatened it before but this time she just might do it.
Jackson swore under his breath. “I’ll take that as a no. Derrick did this all on his own.”
Ellie shouldered part of the blame. A very small part. She’d let Derrick lure her in. He did nice things for her. He kissed like he’d been born to do it. All that stopped now. She needed some control and she would wrestle him for it, if needed. “I’ll handle this.”
“Are you sure?” Jackson looked as skeptical about her statement as he sounded.
“Yeah, really?” Vanessa gestured toward Jackson. “Listen to him.”
She got it. Vanessa was fighting a bout of friendly concern. Jackson likely thought this was one step too far, even for Derrick. They were both right and she appreciated it, but she and Derrick had an agreement. She also thought they had an understanding and possibly something bigger that might lead to getting naked.
“If Derrick wants a showdown, we’ll have one.”
This time Vanessa looked skeptical. Also a bit worried. “Is this a good idea? Derrick isn’t exactly a lightweight. I’m guessing he barges in and gets his way a lot.”
Ellie couldn’t deny that, but he wouldn’t hurt her. His yell didn’t even scare her that much. No, this was about Derrick Jameson understanding how far he could push her. And he’d gone too far. “He needs to learn.”
Jackson hadn’t moved. It was as if he were rooted to that spot on her floor. “True, but…”
“I’m looking forward to meeting Derrick,” Vanessa said. “Sounds like the guy needs a good kick.”
Vanessa wasn’t wrong on that, either. Ellie vowed to be the one who administered the blow.
“You will soon enough.” Ellie looked at Jackson. “I need your help.”
“I almost hate to ask what for.” But he smiled.
“You’ll see.”
CHAPTER NINE
The DC Insider: Living together? Why, Derrick Jameson. You are a fast worker. And, Ellie? You’re our hero. Tame that rowdy billionaire.
Jackson didn’t sound an alarm unless something was really wrong. So, when he called from Derrick’s house, insisting there was a problem, Derrick got his butt over there and fast.
Driving up outside, everything looked normal. The usual cars on the street. Nothing odd in his driveway. It wasn’t until he got out of the garage and reached the bottom of the stairs to the main living area that he heard the deafening thumping. He didn’t know how he’d missed it earlier.
Music. Blaring music.
After marching upstairs, he turned the corner and stepped into the open kitchen and living room area…and stopped. Both the television and stereo were on, and at what sounded like full power. Magazines were strewed all over his usually clutter-free space. There were open boxes and balled-up piles of clothes. Books everywhere. He couldn’t see an inch of his hardwood floor.
Ellie sat in the middle of it all, sprawled on his couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table. She wore a pink robe and matching slippers. Ate potato chips right out of the bag. Drank…was that red wine? One wrong move and his light gray couch, the one he’d owned for less than a year, wouldn’t survive the alcohol bath.
It took a few seconds for her to stop her off-key singing and look up at him. “Hey, roomie.”
So that’s what this was. Payback. He had to give her credit because little surprised him and this did. He’d expected a series of nasty texts or an office visit. Not this.
To avoid yelling over the song he didn’t recognize, he went to the stereo and turned it off. That left the talk show, which raged in a circus of screaming. He scanned the stacks of crap for his remote and didn’t see it. Realizing he had no idea how to turn the television off without it, he gave in. “Any chance you could take care of that?”
She pretended not to hear. Put her hand behind her ear, leaned in and everything. Apparently full drama mode had been activated.
He tried again. “Turn. It. Off.”
“Oh, sure.” She reached under the chip bag and produced the remote. The noise clicked off a second later. “I’m recording this, anyway. Actually, I’m recording a lot of programs.” She studied the remote and its buttons. “Did you know your DVR is empty? There’s plenty of room for my stuff.”
He inhaled, trying to hold on to the fleeting sense of control he’d had when he’d started the day. “I don’t watch much TV.”