Virgin Dot Com Novel

[Jasmine's POV] One month since I'd walked back into Cadence Records, and the office still felt like a minefield. Eyes slid past me. Present but unwanted. The only person who looked at me like I was still human was Nora. We sat in a café two blocks from the office, and I pushed salad around my plate without tasting it. "You look like shit," Nora said. "Are you sleeping?" I shrugged. "The definition of sleep has become flexible." Every night I closed my eyes and saw Leo walking away. I'd traded my brother's love for the feeling of being wanted, and the price was eating me alive.

"The situation is improving," Nora said carefully. The laugh that came out tasted like battery acid. "Improving? This morning someone called me the office whore in the bathroom. They knew I was in the stall. They wanted me to hear it." Nora winced. "Okay, improving might be an overstatement." "You need to know something." Her voice shifted. "Adeline gave an interview. A podcast about women in music." She slid her phone across the table. The headline read: Former Cadence Employee Tells the Truth About the Scandal "She said she dated Liam. Years ago, before you. Kept it secret.

Never used her position." The betrayal tasted metallic. Liam had dated Adeline. Had never mentioned it. "Quote: I kept our relationship private because I respected the company." Nora scrolled through her notes. "And she's with all three and gets promoted? Where's the justice in that?" The question burrowed under my skin. She wasn't wrong. She'd dated one, kept it professional. I'd fucked all three and became a headline. "There's more. She says the scandal opened doors for her. Better position. Senior vice president." Adeline had turned destroying me into a career opportunity.

"Quote: I don't regret what I did. Jasmine Harlow got what she deserved. The truth always comes out." "I'm glad she found her way," I said coldly. "She can go fuck herself in her new position." Nora laughed, but it sounded forced. Because underneath the rage was a question I couldn't silence: Was Adeline right? The elevator back to the office felt like a coffin. When the doors opened, I felt the change immediately. The air was charged. Employees clustered in groups, whispering. Something seismic. "What the hell?" Nora muttered.

Then I saw him-the man in the suit that cost more than my annual salary. Lines around his eyes from a lifetime of looking at people and finding them wanting. Silver hair. Posture that had never known doubt. Devastatingly attractive in a dangerous way. Liam's intensity. Asher's cold assessment. Finn's charisma. All of it weaponized by decades of unchecked power. That was Jackson Blackwood, the patriarch. Every cell in my body screamed run. But I forced my legs toward my desk. Tried to make myself invisible. But predators always notice prey. He turned, and his eyes found me.

The office parted for him. He stopped at my desk. I stood, refusing to let him loom over me. But standing didn't help-he still made me feel dissected. Jackson Blackwood studied me long enough that my skin started to crawl. "So this is the one." His voice was cultured poison. "The woman causing my boys problems." Not a question, an indictment. His gaze traveled over me. Slow. Thorough. A violation that didn't require touch. He was trying to understand what they saw in me. Reaching the conclusion that there was nothing to see. "Ordinary," he said. Then louder. "No big tits, no sweet pussy.

Curious." The humiliation crawled under my skin. Heat flooded my face, but underneath was rage. What could I do? He was their father. The source of their money and power. And I was just the girl stupid enough to fall into bed with all three. Around us, colleagues froze. Watching. Judging. Jackson walked past me. Over his shoulder, casual. "Coffee. My office." Not my office. Not Liam's office. My office. Because everything here belonged to him, including his sons, and now apparently me. I stood at my desk. Refuse, and I'm the bitch who thinks she's too good. Comply, and I'm the doormat.

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. My hands shook as I made the coffee. Triple espresso, no sugar. Like Liam drank it. Like his father probably taught him. Nora found me in the break room. "Jas, you don't have to-" "Yes, I do." The glass doors to Liam's office were closed when I approached. Inside, Liam sat at his own desk but pushed to the side. Finn at the window, shoulders rigid. Asher against the wall. And Jackson. Sitting at the head of the table. I knocked-Asher opened the door, eyes screaming warnings. I crossed the room with the coffee. The brothers were tense.

Dangerous and helpless. I set the coffee in front of Jackson, and his hand shot out. Grabbed my thigh. Not gently, possessively. I stopped breathing. "You need to wear shorter skirts," he said, looking at his sons while his hand burned through my pants. "If you're going to play the part, at least look it." He was calling me a whore to their faces. Touching me like he had the right. Reducing everything to a transaction. Liam half-stood. Asher stepped forward, hands clenched. Finn turned from the window, playfulness gone, replaced by something murderous. But Jackson raised one hand. Stop.

And they froze. Because despite being grown men with their own power, he was still their father. Still the source. I removed his hand from my thigh carefully. "Anything else, sir?" My voice came out steady. He hadn't made me cry. Hadn't made me break. Jackson smirked. First hint of approval. "That's all." I walked out with my head up. When I reached my desk, I realized my hands were shaking so badly I had to sit on them. Through the glass walls, I watched the power play. Jackson leaning back, relaxed. The brothers tense. Liam said something, jaw working. Jackson laughed.

Finn stepped toward the table, aggressive. Asher argued, hands gesturing. Jackson shook his head. Refusal absolute-I watched them be reduced to boys. These three men who'd made me feel powerful, rendered impotent by one old man with money and blood ties. And I understood why they'd chosen me. Because I didn't need his approval. Because I'd already lost everything that mattered. Because in a world where their father controlled everything, I was the only thing they could own that he couldn't take away. Except he could. And he was going to try. Jackson stood, ending the meeting.

The brothers rose after, always after. He crossed the office, and when he passed my desk, he stopped. "Miss Harlow." His voice was quiet, intimate. "My sons have a bad habit of playing with things." He leaned down. I smelled his cologne, expensive and suffocating. "Pleasure meeting you." Then he left, and I sat at my desk understanding that I'd just been declared war on by a man who'd built an empire on the bodies of people who'd underestimated him. And I was just a girl who'd fucked his sons and called it love. Virgin Dot Com