I’d done nothing wrong besides keep my fake girlfriend to myself? I doubted he knew the whole story. I bet he just saw Jaz’s innocent, beautiful face and fell victim to it like everyone else. It wasn’t right.
Five minutes later, another car pulled into the driveway behind me. With my eyes in the rearview mirror, I spotted Jaz in the passenger seat, along with a man who, if I had to guess, was in his late twenties or early thirties. I didn’t know who he was, but I knew I’d seen him around before.
Jaz must’ve recognized my car, for I watched her lean over to the man driving and tell him something. The man took on a scowl, and he put his car into park before getting out. He walked with an attitude toward the guard station, throwing me a glare as he did so, and it made me wonder just what lies Jaz had fed to him. That man didn’t know me, and yet he looked at me like I was the Antichrist.
The man spoke to the guard in the guardhouse, and the guard reached for his phone again. A few moments later, the guard was busy nodding and telling something to the man.
The stranger turned, giving me a tight-lipped smile as he bent to my still-open window. “Looks like I’m going to keep an eye on you until Oliver comes home.” He tapped the side of my car as the gate opened, and I felt myself bristle as he walked back to his car.
I pulled up to the mansion, parking before the front door. Slow in getting out, I turned to watch the man and Jaz get out of his car. Was he her new chauffeur? I was under the impression her mother had driven her most days, but she seemed to be completely at ease with him—however, when those amber eyes fell on me, she turned cold.
Jaz stuck almost too close to the man, and I couldn’t help but feel something bubbling inside as I followed them to the front door. It couldn’t be jealousy. It couldn’t be. Jaz and I were over; we were never really together, technically. It’d been nothing but a lie and then countless misunderstandings.
The man, the moment we stepped into the house, told Jaz, “Get your mother and go upstairs. I’ll handle him.” His hazel eyes lingered on Jaz a bit too long, the mask his scruffy face wore no longer one of disdain for me.
This guy…who was he to Jaz?
As Jaz left to do as she was told, the man corralled me away from her, out of the vestibule and into what looked like a lavish living room. This house was bigger than mine; Oliver had more money than we did. I had no idea why he couldn’t have just taken my dad’s case.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked him once we were alone. Despite everything in me that told me not to pay attention to Jaz, when I heard footsteps and voices disappearing up the stairs, I glanced in that direction.
As, I noticed, so did the man.
He certainly paid a lot of attention to Jaz, didn’t he?
Once the footsteps and voices quieted, the man returned his stare to me. “You can call me Jacob. Don’t worry, I know all about you, Archer, so no need to explain there.” The way he spoke, as if he hated me, as if Jaz had him wrapped around her finger, irritated me to no end.
And, as if those feelings weren’t enough, I did feel a little jealous that he seemed so protective of her. Like he cared about her.
Maybe a bit too much.
“You only know what Jaz told you,” I said, feeling the need to pace the room. I didn’t; I remained still, caught in Jacob’s glare. For a man I’d just met, he really didn’t like me.
Jacob did not hold back, and his words were barbed in venom, “I know what I saw, kid, and what I saw was you bringing her to a party and Jaz stumbling out later, drugged to the point where she could hardly walk.”
Drugged.
This man somehow knew about the night I was least proud of, the night I do wish I could take back. He knew, and he hated me for it. His hatred was pointless, though, as I had nothing to do with it—but that meant someone else did. Did Brittany really drug Jaz? Ryan had made comments about Brittany telling him it was okay to