Chapter 2
“Sleeping on your shoulder was the best moment of your month? You must have a really boring life.”
Then he laughed. It was a low sound, almost reluctant, as if he was not used to laughing. But it was genuine and warm, and it made something strange happen in her chest.
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe you’re more special than you think.”
“I’m just an ordinary restorer with an ordinary life.”
The protest sounded weak even to Ivy.
“There’s nothing ordinary about you.”
She had no answer. She stood silent, looking at the man who had appeared out of nowhere and said things that made her entire world tilt.
Jasper broke the silence first.
“Show me your work.”
“Seriously?”
“You’re interested in restoration?”
“I’m interested in you. Restoration is part of that.”
Ivy showed him the fresco because she did not know what else to do.
“It’s from the 14th century. Italian. It was damaged by moisture when the museum ceiling leaked 10 years ago. It took 6 months just to stabilize the structure before I could even begin restoring the painting itself. Each small section has to be treated individually, respecting the original pigments and the artist’s technique.”
She was rambling, nervous, using art as a shield against his intensity. But when she glanced at Jasper, she realized he was not looking at the fresco. He was looking at her, watching the way she gestured as she spoke, the passion in her voice, the delicacy of her movements.
It was such complete attention that it made her skin tingle.
“Are you even listening?” she asked.
“Every word.”
His green eyes met hers.
“Keep going.”
They ended up in the museum’s small cafeteria, sitting at a table near the window overlooking the inner garden. Ivy had a lukewarm cappuccino in front of her, more to occupy her hands than because she wanted to drink it.
“So, Jasper, what do you do besides being kind to tired strangers on the subway?”
He took a sip of black coffee. Ivy noticed the way his fingers held the cup, firm and controlled.
“Business. Import, export.”
“Interesting. What products?”
“Various.”
He changed the subject so smoothly she almost missed it.
“And you,” he asked, “did you always want to restore art?”
She let him redirect.
“Since I was a kid. I visited museums with my parents and saw restorers working. I thought, I want to do that. And I did.”
“Are your parents still alive?”
The familiar pain tightened her chest.
“No. Car accident when I was 20. I only have Theo now. My brother.”
“I’m sorry.”
There was enough sincerity in his voice for her to believe he meant it.
“Thank you.”
She took a sip of cappuccino to give herself time to recover.
“And you? Family?”
“Complicated. My father died, and I had to take over his business.”
He paused. She saw hesitation cross his eyes.
“And I have a fiancée.”
The world stopped.
“Fiancée?”
The word came out hoarse.
Jasper realized the mistake immediately.
“Yes, but it’s an arranged marriage. For the families.”
Something inside Ivy sank. She pulled back emotionally, building walls as quickly as possible.
“Oh. So you’re committed.”
“Technically, yes. But it isn’t for love.”
“But it’s still an engagement.”
She stood so quickly the chair creaked.
“I need to get back to work. It was good to see you, Jasper.”
His hand caught hers before she could pull away. The touch was gentle, but firm.
“Ivy, wait.”
“You have a fiancée. You shouldn’t be here with me.”
“I know.”
She tried to pull her hand back, but he did not let go.
“But I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Jasper, this isn’t right.”
Her voice trembled.
“I know,” he said. “But rarely do the right things feel as right as this.”
Ivy looked down at their intertwined fingers, at the way his large hand completely enclosed hers. She fought between what she wanted and what was right.
“I’m not the type of girl who gets involved with committed men.”
“And I respect that.”
He released her hand but did not move away.
“But what I feel for you in 2 meetings is more real than anything I’ve felt for my fiancée in a year.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re getting married in 2 months.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
The pause was heavy.
“But what if I don’t?”
Ivy blinked.
“What?”
“What if I cancel it for you?”
“You barely know me.”
Her voice rose in disbelief.
“And yet you make me want things I’ve never wanted. Normalcy. Peace. Life without violence.”
The word hit her like a slap.
“Violence?”
Immediate regret crossed his face.
“Forget it.”
He stepped back, running a hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry for bothering you. I won’t come back.”
Then he left. He simply turned and walked out of the cafeteria, leaving Ivy standing there with her heart racing and her mind spinning.
Violence. Arranged marriage. An import-export business he would not describe.
She should have been scared. She should have run in the opposite direction. Instead, she felt confusion and something dangerously close to falling in love.
The days after Jasper left the museum cafeteria were strange in a way Ivy could not explain. She maintained her normal routine. She woke early, worked on the fresco until her eyes hurt, came home exhausted, and tried not to think about the fact that her life had become quietly restless beneath the surface.
It was as if she were waiting for something she could not name, as if part of her remained constantly alert, searching for green eyes on every corner, in every subway car, and in every shadow of the museum.
But he did not come back, and she did not know whether she was relieved or disappointed.
What she had no way of knowing, while she mixed pigments and restored ancient frescoes, was that in Jasper’s world, things were falling apart in a dangerous and irreversible way.
Jasper sat in his private office looking at papers he should have been reading, but the words were blurred and meaningless. All he could see were paint stains on delicate hands and a wrinkled floral dress. It was pathetic. He knew that. A man in his position had no business being distracted by a woman he barely knew.
The knowledge changed nothing.
The door opened without ceremony, and Owen entered with the tense expression Jasper had learned to recognize over the years. It meant there were problems, probably serious ones.
“Boss, we need to talk.”
Owen closed the door with deliberate care, the kind of care used when no one else should hear what was about to be said.
Jasper leaned back in the leather chair, folding his fingers over his chest as he watched his childhood friend with renewed attention.
“About?”
“About the fact that you’re distracted. In our world, distraction kills.”
Owen did not waste time. Jasper appreciated that brutal honesty when it was necessary.
“The meeting with the Battaglias yesterday was a disaster. You barely heard their proposal, agreed to terms you would normally never accept, and Vittorio Battaglia noticed. He asked me if you were losing control.”
The tension in the air thickened.
“Battaglia doesn’t dare challenge me,” Jasper said in the cold voice that made grown men back down.
“Not alone, no,” Owen said. “But if other families think you’re weak, if they realize you’re different, they unite. And then it doesn’t matter how powerful you are. Numbers win in the end.”
Jasper knew Owen was right, and that was why the truth hurt in a way he did not want to admit.
“I’m not weak.”
“But you are different.”
Owen stepped closer, lowering his voice even though they were alone.
“And different, in our world, is dangerous. You leave without explaining where you’re going. You come back with that distant look. I know, boss. I know you’re thinking about her. The art restorer.”
There was no point denying it.
“What if I am?”
“Then you need to decide what’s more important. Because there’s Susie, too, and she’s noticed. She’s suspicious, asking questions, and it’s only a matter of time before she finds out about Ivy.”
The way Owen said Ivy’s name, with care and concern, tightened something in Jasper’s chest, as if the universe had chosen the worst possible timing.
The office door opened again.
This time, Susie entered without knocking, her posture rigid and her eyes shining with something dangerous, caught between anger and humiliation.
“Who is she?”
The question was an accusation, sharp and direct.
Jasper dismissed Owen with a nod. Owen left quickly, clearly relieved not to be present for what was coming.
When the door closed, Jasper looked at the fiancée he had never chosen, the woman imposed by family alliances and business agreements arranged before they even met.
“Who?”
He knew exactly what she meant.
“The woman distracting you.”
Susie practically spat the words as she advanced toward his desk.
“You think I don’t notice? You barely look at me. You leave without warning. You come back with that empty look, like you’re somewhere else entirely. Who is she?”
Jasper stood slowly. When he was on his feet, all the dominant presence that made him the boss returned in full force.
“That’s none of your business.”
Susie’s eyes widened, not with fear but with indignation.
“I’m your fiancée. Everything about you is my business.”
“You are my fiancée for convenience,” Jasper said, calm and icy. “Our families benefit from this arrangement. You benefit. But do not come here pretending you care about me when we both know all you want is the ring, the position, and the power.”
Susie recoiled as if slapped. For 1 brief moment, Jasper saw something like genuine hurt cross her face. Then the anger returned, stronger and hotter, transforming vulnerability into fury.
“I care about respect,” she shouted, tears forming in her eyes. They were not tears of sadness. They were tears of helpless rage. “And you disrespected me by having an affair.”
“I’m not having an affair,” Jasper corrected.
Then he added the brutal truth that he knew would destroy whatever remained.
“Yet.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Susie stared at him, processing what he had admitted. When words came back to her, they came in an uncontrollable stream.
“Yet? You’re going to cheat on me? You’re really going to destroy everything for some—”
“Careful.”
Jasper’s voice carried real danger now, the kind of danger that made armed men think twice.
“Choose your next words very carefully, Susie.”
She was beyond the point of care, beyond reason, driven by humiliation and wounded pride.
“My father is going to hear about this. He’s going to know you’re planning to break our alliance.”
“And?”
Jasper’s shrug was indifferent enough to provoke.
“Richard Cross doesn’t scare me.”
“He should.”
Susie was practically screaming, her polished aristocratic control completely shattered.
“The alliance between Hale and Cross is the only thing keeping peace with the other families. If you break that, there will be war. Real war.”
Jasper looked at her for a long moment. When he spoke, it was with a certainty that made her blood run cold.
“Then let there be war.”
Susie left the office like a hurricane, slamming doors and leaving a trail of fury behind.
Less than 2 hours later, she sat in her father’s opulent office, pouring out everything with indignation and humiliation trembling in her voice. Richard Cross had built his empire on foundations of blood and fear. He listened to his daughter with a carefully neutral expression that revealed none of the calculations taking place behind his cold eyes.
When Susie finally finished, breathless and furious, he remained silent for a long moment.
“Jasper Hale is going to break the alliance over some random woman?” he said, as though testing the weight of the words.
“He admitted it,” Susie insisted, gripping her expensive purse too tightly. “He said we have nothing real. He said she’s more important.”
Richard leaned back, fingers interlaced, processing the information with a strategist’s mind.
“This is unacceptable,” he said. There was no emotion in his voice, only cold calculation. “If Jasper cancels the wedding, the other families will see instability. In our line of business, instability is dangerous.”
“So what do we do?”
Susie leaned forward, eyes bright with revenge.
“We find out who she is. Everything about her.”
Richard picked up the phone on his desk, dialing numbers Susie did not recognize.
“If Jasper wants to break the alliance, we use her as leverage. If that doesn’t work, then we make sure the other families see his weakness and strike when he is most vulnerable.”
“What if he doesn’t care enough?” Susie asked.
The question was ridiculous, and she knew it. She had seen Jasper’s face when he spoke about the unknown woman.
“He cares,” Richard said. “Otherwise, he would not risk everything. When someone cares that much, they have a weakness that can be exploited.”
Back at the Hale mansion, Owen entered Jasper’s office with an urgency that made Jasper look up immediately from the documents he was pretending to read.
“Boss, we have a problem.”
Owen’s voice was tense in a way Jasper rarely heard. That alone was enough to put all his instincts on alert.
“What kind of problem?”
Jasper was already standing.
“Richard Cross sent investigators after the girl. After Ivy.”
Owen did not soften the blow. There was no way to soften it.
Fury crossed Jasper’s face, icy and absolute, the kind of fury that had built his reputation as the most dangerous man on the East Coast.
“He did what?”
“Susie told her father everything about you being distracted, about the other woman. Richard wants information. He wants to use her as leverage against you.”
Owen took a step closer, lowering his voice despite the empty room.
“He won’t touch her physically yet, not while she can be useful in negotiation. But the simple fact that he’s investigating means she’s on his radar, and nothing good comes from that.”
“He doesn’t touch her,” Jasper said. “Not him. Not anyone from his organization.”
Each word carried a promise of violence.
“Jasper, you’re the boss, but Richard has 3 families allied with him now. If he declares war, Battaglia, Romero, and Zhao will join him. You’d be alone against 4 families.”
“I’ve always been alone,” Jasper said. “And I’ve always won.”
“But this time you have a weakness,” Owen said, because someone needed to say it. “Ivy. They’ll use her. They’ll hurt her to get to you.”
Jasper’s expression changed. Owen watched the man he had known since childhood disappear, replaced by the boss the world feared, the monster who had built an empire from the bones of enemies.
“Then I protect her with everything I have. If Cross wants war, he’ll get it. Not the distracted man Battaglia saw in meetings. He’ll get the boss in full, the man who built this empire from nothing.”
A chill moved down Owen’s spine. He knew that look. He knew what happened when Jasper decided someone had crossed a line.
“What are you going to do?”
“First, protect Ivy. Second, remind Richard Cross why the families fear me.”
Jasper grabbed his coat and moved toward the door with a determination that did not accept argument.
“You’re going to her? Now?”
Owen already knew the answer.
“Now.”
Jasper stopped at the door and turned back. His expression was both vulnerable and determined.
“Owen, if something happens to me, you make sure she stays safe. Promise.”
“Boss—”
“Promise.”
May you like
Owen had sworn loyalty to Jasper more than 20 years earlier. He had followed him through wars, betrayal, and blood. He did the only thing he could do.
“I promise.”
