Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Jessica’s POV

Iran until my forward momentum was abruptly checked by a wall of rock–solid chest.

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My vision, still blurry from the sudden rush of tears I hadn’t let all, made it impossible to see where I was going.

“Sorry.” I mumbled, already trying to push past him, but a firm grip closed around my arm, stopping me dead.

I swallowed, forcing myself to look up, and my surprise turned instantly to dread. Standing over me was Kennedy Tyrone, the undisputed tyrant of this dynasty.

His arctic blue eyes–icy, sharp, and utterly devoid of warmth–het mine. I was certain he heard the loud, nervous gulp I made.

I was lost in his hard gaze, my heart pounding so fiercely I thought it might burst right out of

my

ribs.

“Grandpa.” Aaron’s flat, controlled voice broke the suffocating tension, sounding like a shield being raised.

I immediately pulled my arm from Kennedy’s hold and lowered my gaze in a gesture of profound respect and fear.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I whispered, desperate to get away and let the grandfather and grandson destroy each other without me. But his calm, thunderous voice stopped me cold.

“I want to have a word with you, Jessica.”

My lungs seized up for a second. What could he possibly want with me? A nobody, a peasant in his world of wealth and

power.

He didn’t strike me as the type to chat with someone like me–more like he’d summon underlings for interrogations.

“Grandpa,” Aaron cut in, his presence now closing in, protective and dangerous. “You have no business with Jessica….”

“I’ve let all of your rebellion and shenanigans slide, Aaron, but this time you will respect me, or you can expect me to do my

worst.”

Kennedy spoke calmly, but the veiled threat in his voice and the cold focus in his eyes were absolutely terrifying.

I turned toward Aaron, who matched his grandfather’s stare with a hard, defiant look of his own.

I knew Aaron. He wasn’t moved by that threat. In fact, he was minutes away from defying him completely, but I couldn’t let their already fractured relationship bleed further because of me.

I sighed and looked at Aaron. “It’s fine, Aaron. I’ll hear what he has to say.”

Aaron’s brows rose, and his eyes narrowed. He was clearly not appeased by my instant submission to his grandfather’s request. Well, we were even. I was certainly not appeased by the sight of Fiona and him, alone, in a bar.

I blinked hard, trying to shake off the terrible, familiar images forming in my head of what might have transpired there.

I’d read too many books, watched too many movies where that setup ended in reconciliation.

“Let’s go, Jessica.” Kennedy’s command was sharp, slicing through my thoughts. He spun around, his ornate cane tapping a steady rhythm on the marble floor.

I glanced at Aaron and offered him a small, genuine smile, signaling: I’ll be fine. Then I followed the tyrant.

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Chapter 22

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Every step toward our unknown destination felt like my life span was decreasing, but I forced my body to hold its posture, projecting a confidence I didn’t possess.

We arrived at a corridor that felt utterly detached from the rest of the lavish mansion. It was narrow, dark, and felt deliberately secluded, like a private lair where only those who were summoned dared to tread.

Large, imposing photographs of Kennedy hung on the walls, alongside images of victorious hockey sticks.

A massive, intimidating portrait of him–the same one I’d seen when I first came here–loomed right above a set of double doors.

He pushed the doors open, and we stepped into the cold, quiet haven.

The interior was just as dark and severe as the corridor and, frankly, his personality.

The only true light came from one place: a portrait of Wendy. It hung prominently on the wall opposite his desk, depicting her holding a white kitten, her smile genuine and warm.

It was jarring to realize that behind his icy exterior, he loved and cherished his wife. Men like him usually disregarded and disrespected their wives.

He plopped down onto a high–backed swivel chair and reached for a bottle of expensive, unlabeled wine resting on a side table.

I remained standing, hands clasped, waiting for his instruction.

The atmosphere was thick, tense, and suffocating.

He opened the wine bottle. The fizzy pop was a momentary, strange relief, but the heavy silence instantly returned. He poured the red liquid into a weighty tumbler while I stood there awkwardly.

He took a slow sip, his arctic blue eyes watching me intently over the rim of the glass. I shifted my stance, my skin prickling with unease.

Finally, he spoke: “You may sit down, Jessica.”

I offered a weak, nervous smile and carefully lowered myself onto the chair directly across from his desk.

My fingers trembled violently, and I dug my nails into my thighs to stop the shaking.

“My family knows me as a tyrant. The one who dictates how they live their lives, and whom they live it with. If I can’t dictate whom they marry…”

He paused, and a slow, chilling smirk curled on his lips, a look that sent a jolt of panic through my chest.

“I ensure they bend who they are, throw away whatever life they had to fit into the Tyrone mold.”

I just stared at him, wondering where this terrifying monologue was headed.

“Being defied is not what I’m used to. The concept was strange until my grandson, Aaron, found his wings and unclipped them.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

“Jessica Reid.” He tasted the full name, giving it a cynical emphasis.

I wasn’t surprised he knew it. He’d probably had his investigation team do a thorough background check the minute he set his gaze on me.

“Absent from the media space. I’ll give you credit for that. A broken family–an abusive father, a drunk father, a loudmouth stepmother. A slut of a stepsister, a gambler stepbrother…. quite a family.”

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He chuckled again, low and mocking. My eyes burned with freshtears, fueled by the cold accuracy of his description.

I clenched my thighs harder, forcing myself to face this head-off I wouldn’t break in front of him.

*I don’t like you already,” he continued bluntly. “You aren’t fit for Aaron or the Tyrones.

I swallowed, desperately avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe, just maybe, if your family was simply middle class, I might have accepted the association. But you come from a dysfunctional swamp. My grandson is already wounded, and I don’t want further problems in his life. My family will not become a treasury chest for yours, Jessica.”

He leaned in, his eyes scanning my face like he was appraising a flawed gem.

The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

From the amused, expectant look in his eyes, it was as if he knew I would talk back.

“So why do you have to spell all this out to me and not Aaron, Mr. Tyrone?” I asked, keeping my gaze low but my voice steady.

“Good question.” He rose and began to pace the room with deliberate steps, his cane tapping like a metronome of doom.

“Because I want a deal with you, Jessica. If you accept my offer, I will personally establish you. I’ll destroy the family who caused you pain and every other person who wronged you. I’ll give you an identity for yourself. The world will bow to you. You’ll become a queen…..”

He paused and smiled, a dangerous, tempting expression that tugged at my deepest, most secret desires.

“You want to become a journalist?” He let the question hang, knowing full well the answer since he’d dug into my life.

“You won’t just be a journalist. You’ll own a radio station. Your own news channel. All these would be yours if you agree to work with me. Deal?”

I took a sharp breath, the offer dangling like a poisoned, glittering apple. Kennedy Tyrone making a deal with someone like

me?

I immediately knew the score: the material “benefits” would be crumbs compared to the monstrous, soul–crushing request he would inevitably demand in return.

“With all due respect, sir, if you’re asking me to leave Aaron, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I whispered, finally meeting his gaze.

He chuckled and walked toward me, every tap of his cane amplifying my heartbeat.

“You don’t have to do that, darling. I know your relationship with him is fake.”

My eyes widened in shock, and I snapped my head up.

“No need for the explanation.” He cut me off, his voice stern, but now infused with a strange

“That’s none of my business, what you and Aaron are doing. But here’s what’s in for you.”

understanding.

“I’ll make sure you get married to him. I’ll give you the grandest ceremony imaginable, in addition to every other thing I promised, Jessica. But, you have to do exactly as I say.”

Author’s Note: What is the first thing Kennedy Tyrone asks Jessica to do?

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Chapter 22

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