Gillian flexed and curled her fingers and then shook her limp palm, trying to lessen the sting. She'd slapped him. Hard. Harder than she'd thought was even possible, and definitely harder than she'd ever slapped anyone else. Not that she'd slapped very many people, of course. Only Alec. And only once, when he'd been far too aggressive after a coke binge and she hadn't been able to stop him any other way.
She didn't seem to remember her hand hurting this much back then. There was already a wicked red welt swelling on Jack's face, but she didn't waste one single foolish thought on feeling sorry for what she'd done. Rader deserved it. If anything, Gillian thought she'd taken it easy on him. And if he didn't start backing away from her in the next few seconds, she was likely to do away with the slapping and move right on to kneeing him in a rather sensitive area.
Instinct told her she wouldn't feel a bit sorry for that gesture, either.
On the night Gillian slapped Alec, her actions had been all about protecting her own dignity – protecting her right to say no, even to her own husband. But this? This was completely different. Jack Rader was one hundred percent sober, and he'd meant every snarky, egotistical word that spewed out of his mouth. His aggression had an ulterior motive. He'd wanted to make her snap. He'd wanted to provoke a reaction. He'd wanted to see how far he could push her before she broke.
Or rather, how far he could push her before he thought she would break. Because she didn't feel broken at all. She felt empowered. Wholly energized and confident. And fully aware that she had every right to slap him again because he still hadn't moved away.
He was still pressed against her, still invading her space like a damned parasite. Every breath he took caused the fabric of his clothing to rustle against hers, and the sound of it – the barely audible scrape of his buttons against the front of her dress – was akin to nails on a chalkboard. She was literally seconds away from grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him into the wall when his eyes snapped back into focus across from her own.
"Gillian, I…"
"Save it." It was only two short words, but she spoke them with an intensity that could not be misinterpreted. "There is no explanation I want to hear, and no excuse you could possibly sell me, no matter how hard you try."
He sighed and she glared. When he made the mistake of trying to touch her shoulder, Gillian's arm blocked his attempt and her hand was instantly at the ready, prepared to strike his face again.
Only then did Jack's better judgment kick in and command his feet to move backwards, away from her. He did it as if there were some kind of weird time delay between his brain and his body – his movements were choppy and sluggish. One small step at first, then a second, and finally a third one when the new glare she threw at him made it clear that the distance between them still wasn't enough.
She could tell that Jack wanted to say something, but he didn't. He was silent. The only noise between was them that of his own footsteps as he moved away from her.
Jack held his hand against the side of his cheek and smoothed his fingers over the welted handprint she'd left there. He didn't look angry… he didn't look shocked… just stoic. Strangely calm and way too quiet. Almost eerily so. He was staring at her in a way that made Gillian feel a bit uneasy, despite the fact that he had moved back and was no longer pressed against her body. She wasn't sure if that feeling came from something she read from him, or because of the fact that her adrenaline level was finally starting to stabilize.
Either way, she was uncomfortable.
"You slapped me, Gillian," he said, stating the obvious. His tone was harsh, but the words sounded hollow. As if they were just a placeholder for something else he hadn't decided to follow through with yet. "A rather bold move, don't you think?"
Gillian was determined not to let him manipulate her emotions any longer, even if he tried. So she merely nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't push me, Jack. I'll gladly do it again. We both know you deserved it."
"Probably," he agreed. Then he flashed his trademark sneer. "I didn't expect a physical assault from you, though. From Lightman, maybe… but not from you."
Gillian stared daggers through him but otherwise kept her face neutral. In her periphery, she saw Cal step into view at the other end of the corridor.
"Lightman doesn't fight my battles," she said. Her voice was confident and strong, and the words were as much for Cal's benefit as they were a warning to Jack. "You've made the mistake of underestimating me, Jack. Don't do it again."
A beat later, Jack's gaze flowed over her frame, from head to toe. It lingered and leered and when he was finished, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and bounced forward on the balls of his feet. "Does that mean you think you can handle me, Doctor Foster? That you think we can go toe to toe without the infallible Cal Lightman there to bail you out? Because believe me, I'd be glad to arrange a… trial run for you."
Again with the sexual innuendo – that was clearly Rader's comfort zone. Gillian almost laughed. She literally almost laughed in his face at the utterly chauvinistic way he was trying to intimidate her. "Trying" being the key word, because now that she saw him for what he was, she refused to give him that kind of control.
So she took one step forward, so that she began to creep into his personal space. Then she took another. When she took a third, Rader's eyes widened just slightly, and it was enough to kick her confidence up one more notch.
Gillian smiled smugly and then swept her gaze over him, head to toe, just as he'd done to her. When she was finished, Jack blinked a few times and then swallowed thickly. He was nervous – didn't seem to know how to take her now that she wasn't shrinking away from him.
Her eyes locked onto his as she leaned forward a bit, so that her reply was spoken closer to his ear. "I could bury you, Jack. Professionally… personally… intellectually. Just try me."
For several seconds, the two just stared at one another. In the end it was Jack who broke the stalemate. It was Jack who stepped backwards away from her and began to study the floor at his feet. For that round at least, Gillian had won.
With the weight of Jack's eyes no longer on her, Gillian's attention shifted to Cal, who still stood at the other end of the hallway. He didn't speak to her, of course. Not with words. But the look that shone from his face as he watched her was undeniably distinct. It was pride – pure, uninhibited, and strong – and it was as clear as anything he'd ever let her read from him. And that single emotion, more than anything else, was what gave her the push to ask the next few questions.
"What was the point of all this, Jack? The photograph… all those accidental meetings… all the innuendo and insults and total trash that you've been spewing around this office like it's all some kind of game to you. What exactly did you hope to gain?"
Gillian wasn't sure what she expected from him. The truth? Even a half truth? She wasn't even sure she could take any answer he gave at face value. She heard him give a long, deep sigh and for a split second, when he first glanced back up and locked his eyes onto hers, she thought he might actually answer her questions. That he might actually attempt to give her an explanation, even if the details sounded sketchy.
But almost instantly, the look in his eyes turned cold and harsh. And then his posture changed again, making him seem almost menacing. He drew himself up to his full height, his chest puffed out, and his nostrils flared as his breathing became deep and regular. He was confident and arrogant, and he matched her newly found assertiveness to a tee. He was testing the notion that he shouldn't underestimate her. Practically daring her to slap him again.
Cal caught the change instantly, even though he didn't have the benefit of seeing Rader's expression. The change in his body language alone was enough of a warning, and Cal took a few long strides toward them. He didn't trust this guy at all, and he didn't want him anywhere near Gillian under normal circumstances, much less when he was angry and cornered.
Cal was silent as he approached. Gillian didn't hear the pulse of his shoes against the floor, or the sound of his rapid breathing – there was no noise at all. And if Jack sensed Cal's presence behind him, he didn't acknowledge it. He just kept right on sneering at Gillian – continuing his attempt to rattle her again. Push her to act out… to yell at him, or slap him, or worse. The distance he'd created between them a few moments ago started to shrink again as he began to move back into her space.
"I asked you a question," Gillian warned, hoping the sound of her voice would stop him from moving forward any further. "What exactly did you hope to gain from all of this?"
And then as casually as could be, Jack shrugged and gave a one word answer that she did not expect. "You."
From behind Jack, Gillian caught a glimpse of Cal's reaction. His hands were balled into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his arms began to tremble. And while he fumed silently, Gillian's jaw dropped open in disbelief over Jack's answer. "You wanted… me?" she said. Her tone was sheer repulsion. "In what sense?"
Jack grinned and gave a snide little laugh. He was still moving forward – one more step, and he would be pressed against her again, chest to chest. He had no idea that Cal was poised behind him, mirroring his movements. He had no idea that with one wrong move – hell, with one wrong word – Cal could literally reach out and grab him by the scruff of the neck and use his face like a battered old punching bag. Cal was relying on the element of surprise, and Rader was too caught up in Gillian to even think that it might be an option.
"In the professional sense, of course," he finally answered. Then his gaze zeroed in on Gillian's cleavage and lingered there for a long moment before he managed to continue. "Although… it would be extremely enjoyable to mix business with your pleasure, Gillian. It would be extremely enjoyable, indeed."
Without a second thought and without any warning at all, Gillian reared back and slapped him again. Hard. As hard as all the strength in her body would allow, and enough to make her handprint appear on his face almost instantly.
She was completely disgusted.
Maybe Jack's attitude was all just for show – maybe it was just his attempt to prove to her that she couldn't rattle him, no matter how hard she tried. Maybe he sensed that Cal was standing right behind him, poised for a fight. Or maybe Rader really was nothing but a manipulative con artist who got off on making women feel sexualized and inferior.
Gillian's gut instinct told her it was probably a combination of all of those things, but she didn't much care. She was tired of analyzing him. Tired of wasting energy trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, and tired of wasting time with his games.
She just wanted him to be gone.
She wanted him as far away from the Lightman Group and as far away from their lives as he could go. He was a nuisance. A pest. A small, insecure man who didn't deserve the success he'd somehow managed to achieve.
She didn't even care about the answers anymore. They were just a formality.
Gillian sighed and then did something that neither man expected her to do. She turned away. She literally turned her back on Jack Rader even as he stood there, holding his stinging cheek and looking for a fight.
If he wanted a fight, Cal would gladly give it to him. She, on the other hand, was finished.
Gillian held her head high and quickly strode down the hallway, leaving Jack stuttering in her wake. After only the first few steps, he managed to compose his words enough to call out to her. "Gillian, don't you want me to…?"
No. She didn't. She didn't want anything from him, and she didn't turn around. When she finally neared the end of the hallway, his voice cut above the click of her heels insistently as he played his final card.
"Did Lightman ever tell you about my first case?"
Gillian stopped walking, but still did not turn around. She just stood there with her back to him, arguing with herself over what he was about to say.
"I'll take that as a 'no,' then," he said sarcastically. "It's a shame, though. I imagine you might take a rather, shall we say, personal interest in hearing the details. Especially since you know the client better than…well, probably better than you know Lightman himself."
She could practically hear Jack Rader smirking at her, and she fought every single urge to turn toward him and take the bait. Instead, she clenched her hands into fists and continued to walk away.
Just before she finally turned the corner, he called out with one last shot. "Professional loyalty is a valuable asset, Gillian. It isn't something that can be taught, and I don't believe it's something that a man can turn on and off at a whim. A man either has it, or he doesn't. Why don't you ask Lightman about it sometime, Doctor Foster. It would be interesting to see if he's managed to flip that switch after all these years."
Minutes later, when the sound of Gillian's footsteps could no longer be heard in the distance, Jack Rader turned on his heel to leave and found Cal waiting for him, silent and brooding and ready to pounce.
Jack gave a genuine flash of surprise, but a split second later it was gone. He didn't look intimidated, most likely because he had the size advantage over Cal. Height and youth were both working in his favor, and he knew it.
Truth be told, Rader actually seemed bothered by the whole thing. He seemed annoyed to find Cal standing there, blocking his path toward the exit. When Cal refused to move, Jack gave a tense laugh under his breath. "I suppose you're here to threaten me now, is that right?"
Cal gave a wolfish sneer, exposing his gritted teeth as he quickly approached the larger man. "You disappoint me, Rader," he spat. "You should've learned the answer to that question ages ago."
And then before Rader could answer – before he could spew any more manipulative, egotistical insults or petty innuendos, Cal got right up in his face and looked him dead in the eye. He was close enough that he could feel Jack's breath puff out of his nostrils and dissipate in the scant space between them. He could hear the tick of the younger man's watch and practically feel the tension that bounced off his coiled muscles. He was invading Jack's space, just as he'd watched Jack do to Gillian.
Cal was intimidating him. Studying him. Shifting the power balance between them so that it left little doubt as to which one of them held the upper hand. As if there had ever been any doubt.
Lightman held it - he always had.
The tiny little flicker of uncertainty that began to flash Rader's eyes was all Cal needed. Without another word, he grabbed the younger man by the collar and pulled, rough enough that the red silk tie Jack wore tightened against his throat from the firm pressure of Cal's hand.
When Jack's eyes widened in surprise, Cal sneered again and tightened his grip just the slightest bit more. And then he said it – the few short words that would make the man scurry out of the Lightman Group's offices like a wounded dog.
"I don't make threats, Rader. I make promises."