“What’s up, Mister J?” Jaxson says with his deep, cool voice.
“Detective Esposito would like to ask you a few questions. With him is Ella Wade, a reporter.”
Jaxson’s green-blue eyes go from Jameson to Esposito to me where they unexpectedly decide to linger. He studies my face so intensely, I begin to worry I might have a stain on my cheek or something.
Then, in a hot flash, he jumps off the stage, landing right in front of me. To my astonishment, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, gently kissing my knuckles. “Pleasure to meet you, Ella Wade.”
Detective Esposito clears his throat, an uneasy expression taking over his features. “Jaxson Cole?” he says.
Jaxson lets go of my hand, winking at me with a confidence that has been earned through years of charming people. “Yes, that would be me, Detective.”
What the hell just happened?
—four—
Jaxson Cole Can Be Real, Real Bad
The man is a work of art. The first thing you notice when you look at Jaxson is the divine symmetry of his face. My gaze fixates on his strong jawline and those full, sensual lips. He’s tall with robust shoulders and an impressively-built torso but, at the same time, he emits sensitivity and danger. No wonder Madison never moved on from him despite endless offers from anyone and everyone: film stars, professional athletes, businessmen, the crème de la crème of the world of fame and affluence.
Jaxson Cole is in a league all of his own. A heartthrob since he could probably remember himself, he’s been in the spotlight for years and, on more than one occasion, has been featured in The Daily Scandal. I imagine all those five-year-old girls when he was in kindergarten having a crush on him for the rest of their lives. And then in high school, how many girls dreamed of him, knowing that he could not be reached even by dream?
“I’ve been told you were Madison Starr’s boyfriend,” Esposito says, staring straight into Jaxson’s eyes. “And were you the last person to speak with her before she returned to her apartment last night?”
Jaxson takes his time to consider Esposito’s words. Then he turns to look at me. Again. Madison must have brought up my name. There’s no other explanation. “Maybe she talked to someone in the elevator. Is there a prize for being the last person to talk to her?” he mocks Esposito. “But yeah, I did talk with her. For a minute or two. About nothing. The name of a movie we’d been wanting to see. Forgive my attitude. I haven’t processed any of this.”
His voice sounds strangely confident despite his obvious attempt at being vulnerable. I sense some hesitation as he chooses his words.
“The doorman recalled her reaching her building around nine thirty,” Esposito says. “Any contact with her after that?”
“None,” Jaxson says without any hesitation in his voice now.
“We’ll know more once we have her phone records.”
“I never called her,” Jaxson says. “We weren’t all needy like that. Listen, man, if I had any information on the bastard who slit Madison’s throat, I would have already dealt with him myself.”
The bastard who slit her throat. The words echo in my head a few times before their meaning settles in. So far, I’ve avoided asking any questions as to the details of her murder. Not knowing the specifics helped to keep it unreal. But Jaxson’s words have made it real. The air gets stuck in my lungs.
Esposito gives Jaxson a crooked grin. “Your desire for vengeance is understandable, Mr. Cole.”
Jaxson stares at the detective and then shrugs. “I’d like you to find this killer. My desire for vengeance is between me and my therapist.”
“You have a therapist?” I blurt out.
“No, Miss Ella Wade,” Jaxson says. “I don’t. I was making a point.”
“Oh,” I say, struggling to find something else to say.
“This killer will be brought to justice,” Esposito says.
“There will be no justice for Madison,” I manage to say. “You can both play hero all you want. None of it helps Maddy at all.”
Jaxson locks his eyes on mine. “You’re right, but I’d like to know that this guy suffers for this and that he never hurts anyone again.”
I’m tired of saying stupid things so I’m just going to avoid speaking entirely while in front of the hottest man in the universe.
“That will be all for now, Mr. Cole,” Esposito says before turning his attention to Donald Jameson. “Can we see Miss Starr’s dressing room?”
“Of course,” Mr. Jameson says and then pats Jaxson on the back. “She shared a room with another model. I’m not sure there’s anything of hers there though. Madison never brought anything personal to work, not even a single photo or trinket.”