POV: Jasmine
The black limousine pulls up to Cadence Records, and my body betrays me. Hands go cold. Throat constricts. I watch through the conference room window as the driver opens the rear door, and something ancient and primal screams at me to run.
Beside me, Liam has stopped breathing. His hands shake at his sides—the same shutdown he must have experienced at fourteen when his mother's funeral ended and his father decided grief required discipline.
Jackson Blackwood emerges from the car like a snake uncoiling from its den. Silver hair catches the morning light with aggressive precision. His tailored suit probably costs more than six months of my rent, cut to emphasize the power he wields like a weapon. He has Liam's green eyes, but where Liam's hold warmth and earnestness, Jackson's are emptied of anything resembling human emotion.
He moves like a predator assured of his dominance—unhurried, certain, lethal. Every step toward the building entrance is a declaration: I own this. I own everything. I own you.
"Breathe," Asher murmurs beside me, but his voice is tight, controlled in that way that means he's barely holding himself together.
By the time we reach the executive floor, Jackson has already taken over Liam's office. Through the glass walls, I catch my reflection superimposed over his figure as he settles behind the desk like he's claiming conquered territory. The symbolism isn't subtle—this was never their kingdom. It was always his.
"Boys." Jackson's voice carries that particular blend of authority and condescension that makes my skin crawl. He rises from behind the desk, arms opening for an embrace that looks rehearsed.
He hugs Asher first. Always Asher, I realize—the one most like him, the one he can understand. Then Finn, whose body goes rigid the moment Jackson's arms close around him, every muscle screaming resistance even as he submits to the ritual. Then Liam, the oldest, the one who remembered their mother best and therefore disappointed him most.
"Look at you," Jackson says, stepping back to assess his sons like livestock at auction. "Running my company into the ground over a piece of ass. Your mother would be devastated."
"Father—" Liam starts.
"Don't." Jackson holds up a hand, and the single gesture silences all three of them instantly. Decades of conditioning, compressed into one small movement. "I didn't fly back from Monaco to hear excuses. I came to fix the mess you've made."
His eyes find me through the glass wall. I'm standing in the hallway, frozen, unsure whether to enter or flee. His gaze travels over me with deliberate slowness—assessing, cataloging, dismissing.
"So this is the one." He gestures for me to enter, and my legs move before my brain can object. "The woman causing my boys problems."
I force myself to meet his eyes. "Mr. Blackwood."
"Ordinary." He circles me like I'm a car he's considering purchasing. "No big tits, no sweet pussy I can see. Curious what all the fuss is about."
The words land like physical blows. Heat floods my face, humiliation crawling under my skin alongside rage so hot it nearly chokes me. But what can I do? He's their father. The source of their money, their power, their entire existence.
"Father, that's enough," Liam says, but his voice lacks conviction. The little boy inside him is already surrendering.
"Is it?" Jackson returns to the desk, spreading financial reports across its surface with casual brutality. "Three major artists are gone. Two contracts cancelled. Stock hemorrhaging forty percent since your little scandal broke." He taps one document with a manicured finger. "The damage is catastrophic. Another month of this, and there won't be a company left to save."
"We're handling it," Asher says tightly.
"You're drowning in it." Jackson's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "But I can fix everything. I have connections your generation can't imagine—distributors, media contacts, board members who owe me favors. I can restore what you've lost in weeks instead of months."
The relief that flickers across Finn's face dies instantly when Jackson continues.
"But there are conditions."
Of course there are. Men like Jackson don't offer help—they offer transactions, with interest rates that compound in ways you don't understand until you're already drowning in debt.
"What conditions?" I hear myself ask, and all four men turn to look at me like they'd forgotten I was there.
Jackson's smile widens, and something cold slithers down my spine. "I want to know if you're worth it. All this chaos, all this destruction—over one woman." He moves toward me, and it takes everything I have not to step back. "So let's find out. One week. You work directly with me. Prove your professional value. Show me what my sons see in you besides the obvious."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I walk away, and you watch everything they've built collapse around you." He shrugs, utterly unconcerned. "Your choice, of course. But I suspect you'll make the right one."
Liam steps forward, putting himself between me and his father. "She's not a test subject for you to evaluate. She's—"
"She's the reason we're having this conversation at all." Jackson's voice hardens, all pretense of civility dropping away. "You boys have had your fun. Now it's time for adults to clean up the mess." His gaze slides past Liam to find me again, and I feel it like hands on my body. "One week, Miss Harlow. Direct assessment. At the end, I'll make my recommendation to the board."
"Recommendation?" Asher's voice is sharp.
"About whether the family investment is worth protecting." Jackson settles back into Liam's chair—his chair now, by right of conquest. "About whether she stays."
The brothers exchange glances I can't read. Fear. Anger. Something that looks horribly like resignation.
"And if your recommendation is negative?" I force the question out through numb lips.
Jackson's smile is the smile of a man who has never heard the word no in his entire life. A man who takes what he wants and discards what he doesn't. A man who looks at people and sees only what they can do for him.
"After the week, I'll decide if she stays—or if she goes. And if she goes, she goes from your lives entirely. That's my condition for saving this company."