On My Knees - J. Kenner Page 0,3
Los Angeles.
She padded to him in bare feet and gave him a friendly hug. “It’s lovely to see you.”
“I’m sorry to intrude. I know you must be tired from your trip.”
“I am,” she admitted, “but Damien’s not. He’s catching up on some work things, getting ready for tomorrow. So you’re not interrupting at all. Come on,” she said, leading the way. “Do you want coffee? Something stronger?”
He was tempted to have another scotch, just to take the edge off. But prudence won out, and he shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Five seconds later, he was wishing he’d taken the drink. Because there was Stark pacing in front of the wall of windows, the city shining bright behind him.
And there was Sylvia, perched on the edge of an ottoman, a pad in her lap and a pen in her hand, taking detailed notes.
Her back was to him and she was so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t seen him yet. For a moment, he could only stare. He’d left her only hours ago, naked in her bed, and he hadn’t expected to see her again until this ordeal with his brother was finished. So the sight of her now was a shock to his senses, and for a moment he could only stand like an idiot, his lips pressed together so he didn’t call out her name. His feet planted so he didn’t go to her. His hands at his sides so he didn’t reach out to touch her.
He must have made a noise, or maybe she just sensed his presence as strongly as he felt hers, because she turned her head suddenly and her mouth formed into a perfect little O even as her pen tumbled from her hand.
“Jackson! I didn’t—I mean, I wondered—” She frowned as she cut off her words.
He understood her dilemma. When he’d left her condo, he’d told her where he was going. And yet she’d arrived long before he had. She’d probably assumed that he’d changed his mind, and expected to hear why when they met back up at her place.
Now here he was, and they were both surprised.
“—has something he wants to talk with you about tonight.” Nikki’s words filtered into Jackson’s head, and he realized that he’d been so absorbed in watching Sylvia that he’d tuned out everything else around him. “You were engrossed in maxing out Syl’s to-do list,” Nikki said to Stark, “so I went ahead and cleared him to come up.”
Stark turned from the window, smiling at Nikki as he did. But the smile faded when his eyes met Jackson’s. “I thought we were meeting in the morning.”
“That’s when the appointment is,” Jackson said. “But there are things we should talk about now.”
Stark studied him a minute, then nodded. “All right.” He moved across the room toward Sylvia and held out his hand for something. Her eyes cut quickly to Jackson, and he could see the tension in her shoulders, but her professionalism never slipped as she reached for an electronic tablet that sat near her on the coffee table.
He wondered if Stark noticed the way her fingers shook just slightly as she navigated over the tablet screen. But she held it together.
What she didn’t do was look at Jackson.
After a moment, she passed the tablet to Stark. He glanced at it, then handed it to Jackson. “You’ve had an interesting few days,” he said as Jackson looked down at the photo of him being led away from Reed’s house in handcuffs.
Jackson swiped his finger across the surface and scrolled through the rest of the images. News coverage from all over the country. Most focused entirely on him—Starchitect Jackson Steele arrested!—but some tied Stark and The Resort at Cortez in to the story.
He kept his posture straight and his face impassive. If Stark thought he was going to get a rise out of Jackson by showing him the coverage that Jackson had already seen, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
“Did you come here to tell me why you spent a perfectly fine Saturday evening beating the shit out of some pissant film director?”
Jackson cocked his head at the pejorative, but in response said only, “No. I really didn’t.”
Stark’s brow lifted almost imperceptibly, and Jackson stiffened, prepared to accept the brunt of his half-brother’s famous temper. It was, he thought wryly, something they shared. But all Stark did was tilt his head, glance toward Nikki, then nod. “Fair enough.” He gestured toward an armchair. “Have a seat.”
“I’m fine standing.