The group fell silent, processing this bombshell. Jackson's mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. "Maybe she changed her name?" Isabella offered weakly. "You know, new life, new identity?" Matthew snorted. "Or maybe she's been lying this whole time. For all we know, 'Veronica' was just some made-up persona she used to hook up with average Joes like Jackson here." "Hey!" Jackson protested, but his indignation was half-hearted at best. He couldn't shake the feeling that his entire relationship with Veronica, Scarlett, or whoever she was had been built on a foundation of lies. "Christ, Jackson," Charles muttered, shaking his head. "Your ex-girlfriend is either a mafia wife with a secret identity or an imposter who happens to look exactly like her. Either way, I think it's safe to say you dodged a bullet there, buddy." "More like dodged a whole damn firing squad," Matthew added, earning him another smack from Isabella. Jackson's head was spinning. He glanced back at Veronica –
Jackson weaved through the crowd, his eyes scanning for the pool. The party was in full swing now, the air thick with perfume, cologne, and the heady scent of wealth. He bumped into a waiter, nearly sending a tray of canapés flying. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered, snagging a tiny sandwich off the tray. He popped it into his mouth, barely tasting it as he continued his quest for the elusive pool. As he walked, his mind wandered to Quantum Quill's cryptic message. The third person... who could it be? Maybe some A-list actress he'd always fantasized about? Or a supermodel with legs for days and a penchant for average Joes? Maybe it was someone from his past? An old flame from high school, all grown up and ready to rekindle that spark? In this glitzy setting, he tried to picture his high school crush, Jenny Whatshername. The mental image of her in her ratty Nirvana t-shirt and ripped jeans, surrounded by these Gucci-clad socialites, made him chuckle. Or it was that cute barista from his
Jackson placed his hand on her thigh, feeling the smooth silk of her dress under his palm. He slid his fingers slowly toward the inside of her thigh, savoring each inch. Her skin was warm and impossibly soft, sending a surge of arousal through him. Their lips met, and the first touch was electric. Each kiss deepened, his tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger he hadn't felt in forever. She tasted like champagne and something else, something purely Abigail. He groaned into her mouth, their kiss turning desperate and wild. She let out a little moan, her hand gripping his shoulder as he moved his hand higher, fingers grazing her inner thigh. The flimsy lace of her panties came into contact with his fingertips, and he could feel the heat radiating from her core. Jackson's pulse quickened, the anticipation driving him mad. He couldn't resist sliding his hand just under the edge of the lace. Her breathing turned ragged, matching his. He broke the kiss momentarily, panting against her l
Jackson's head was spinning, and not just from the champagne. Quantum Quill's voice chirped in his mind, sounding far too chipper for his liking. "Well, well, well! Looks like someone's been a busy man. One down, two to go! I'm on the edge of my seat waiting to see which lucky lady you'll take to bed tonight." He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to respond out loud. The last thing he needed was to look like a lunatic talking to himself at a high-society party. He settled for an internal grumble. "Oh, don't be such a sourpuss," QQ teased. "Your second target is inside the mansion. Chop chop!" He glanced at the sprawling mansion before him. It was massive, a labyrinth of marble and gold that screamed, 'More money than sense.' "In there?" he thought. "It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack. A very expensive, probably gold-plated needle." "Less whining, more walking," QQ urged. "Get your tush inside that mansion, pronto!" With a sigh, he headed towards the grand entra
Gabriella's eyes narrowed, her gaze sharp enough to cut diamonds. "And where exactly did you hear that, Mr. Jackson?" "Oh, you know," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Connections. I've got... connections." "Connections," she repeated, her tone flat. She scrutinized him, her gaze lingering. "You don't look like a cop. Or a detective." He laughed nervously. "Me? A cop? No way. I'm just an investor. You know, stocks, bonds. Just your average Joe." "Does this 'average Joe' have a name for these mysterious connections?" He couldn't tell her about the disembodied voice in his head that was urging him to 'play it cool, Romeo.' "I don't kiss and tell," he said, aiming for mystery. "A gentleman never reveals his sources." She raised an eyebrow. "What exactly does this 'gentleman' want with an arms dealer?" He paused. What did he want? He glanced around the opulent room, suddenly aware of how out of place he felt. "I might need a gun," he blurted out. "Why would a nice man like you n
Jackson stepped out of the mansion, his head spinning from the encounter with Gabriella. The cool night air hit his face, a welcome respite from the stuffy interior. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the intoxicating scent of Gabriella's perfume that still lingered in his nostrils. He was still trying to process what had just happened. Gabriella, an arms dealer. It sounded like something out of a bad action movie. And yet, here he was, her business card burning a hole in his pocket and a dinner date set for tomorrow night. But it wasn't just Gabriella that had his mind reeling. Those women in her entourage... Jackson ran a hand through his hair, bewildered. What kind of arms dealer surrounded herself with a group that couldn't seem to keep their clothes on? He chuckled to himself, imagining a bunch of scantily clad women trying to broker illegal weapons deals. "What's the caliber on this baby?" he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "Oh, never mind that; check out my
Jackson took another gulp of champagne, wondering if he could just claim he'd completed the task and hope Quantum Quill wouldn't notice. But knowing his luck, QQ probably had some kind of psychic lie detector built in. He sighed and squared his shoulders. It was time to get back into the game. He was a man on a mission, a hunter stalking his prey. A very confused, slightly tipsy hunter who had no idea what his prey looked like, but still. He had a job to do, and by God, he would do it. Even if it meant chatting up with every single woman at this party until he found the right one. Jackson took a deep breath and prepared to embark on his mission impossible. He barely took two steps when a familiar voice called out his name. "Jackson! Over here, you blind bat!" He spun around, nearly spilling his champagne, to find Isabella waving at him. She was surrounded by James, Matthew, and Charles, all looking slightly tipsy and amused. "Well, if it isn't the man o
Jackson started to weave through the throng of glittering guests, his eyes darting from face to face. Suddenly, he froze. There was a familiar figure—the brunette from the hotel—the one he'd spotted at the bar and again at the restaurant. She wore a sleek, red cocktail dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. The dress was sexy, exuding a sense of allure and confidence with its daring neckline and intricate lace details. His heart did a little somersault. Was this her? The elusive third woman Quantum Quill wanted him to meet? He hesitated, remembering how he'd seen her with another man last time. Maybe she wasn't single after all. But then again, when had that ever stopped him? This was a party, after all. And if Quantum Quill wanted him to meet her, who was he to argue with the voice in his head? Jackson smoothed down his suit jacket and ran a hand through his hair. He briefly considered checking his breath but decided against it. No use giving himself a