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I swiped through the motions to block that number, so repetitive I could have done it in my sleep. Then I deleted the text and turned my phone face down.
Tommy was a reminder that I’d come to New York for myself. Despite what he or anybody else thought about it, my life was my own. And I wasn’t here to waste my time thinking about Tommy’s opinions. I wasn’t here to waste my time onmen, either.
Not only was Damian my boss now, he wastaken.He had a brunette who showed up in his office toservice him, a woman who probably oozed rank and power and big fat acronyms behind her name.
But more than that, I wanted no ties to any man. My adolescent heart would always want Damian, but my adult heart needed independence. Success.
A future all my own.
At the end of the day, I was lucky that Damian and his plump lips wanted nothing to do with me.
Because I only had time and attention for paying my bills and getting my fashion certificate. No matter what.
CHAPTER FOUR
DAMIAN
564.
The number ran through my mind on repeat. A lot of numbers of did. It was part of the way I processed the world. But this number in particular perplexed me.
564. The number of dollars Jessa had spent on my personal credit card. In other words, absolutely nothing.
It was chump change. It was laughable. What the fuck had she bought when I’d given her no spending limit? A pair of designer shoes from the bargain bin?
Not knowing made me nervous, especially while I milled around this fundraiser nestled in an art gallery, flanked by my brothers, and waited for Jessa to show up. She needed to look the part, and part of me was a little too concerned about whether she could pull it off.
But if she were any other secretary you wouldn’t fucking care.
She’d clocked her first week at Fairchild Enterprises uneventfully. She did as she was told, asked questions, arrived and left on time, like the good little sister she was.
My fingers tightened around the tumbler of whiskey in my left hand. I was so close to convincing myself that adding her to the team could be a normal, regular occurrence in the office. That it wouldn’t disrupt anything. That she could become part of the background blur of daily life. A potted plant one scarcely notices. A potted plant with arms—and ridiculously hot dresses. Okay, a potted plant with a few too many curves.
I cleared my throat, tipping some more whiskey into my mouth as I completed my tenth furtive scan of the arched doorways to the gallery. Strange, kinetic art blobbed across the centerpiece wall. Metal sculptures dotted the large room, both liquid and graceful in their abstractness. Jessa still wasn’t here, and she should have been. Trace chatted with people to my right, while Axel and Cora were deep in conversation to my left.
“Well Damian, as you know, has plenty to speak on in that arena.” Trace’s conversation drifted my way as he turned, roping me into his conversation. He stretched out his arm, gesturing to a man with a beard that could only be described as a chin strap. “Damian, this is Franco Serpetti.”
I drifted through the introductions and ensuing details—tech start-up looking for knowledgeable advisors, and would I be interested in acting as one?—and excused myself as graciously and quickly as I could with a quick promise to assist in any way at all. I passed along my card.
“My email is on there. My secretary Jessa will get something set up,” I told him, fighting the urge to start scanning the room again at the mention of her name. Where was she? And why was I so eager to see what dress she’d have on tonight?
My skin prickled, heat zipping from head to toe. Behind me, Axel crooned, “Oh, Jessa! There you are. I’ve been dying for you to meet Cora…”
Everything inside me went taut, a rubber band ready to snap. I turned to find Jessa beaming at Axel and Cora like they were the most fascinating duo in the world.
And all I could see was her.
Jessa. She became the focal point of the room, sucking up every ounce of my attention and available oxygen in a form-fitting, off-the-shoulder, black lace gown. Big pearl earrings dotted her ear lobes, her glossy auburn hair framing her face in soft, elegant waves. My hands balled into fists as I drifted closer to her without even deciding to.
Her work performance might have been routine, but her presence hardly was. When Jessa was around, the air buzzed, which did not seem remotely sane or normal. The other thing that did not seem sane or normal was how much I fucking wanted her. Was this some sort of high school attraction gone awry? Maybe I’d truly lost my mind amid all the stress of the past couple years. Whatever it was, I didn’t want it in my life.
I could control this.
“Cora’s been out at the Hamptons house this past week,” Axel was saying as I stepped closer. Cora grasped Jessa’s hands in her own, leaning forward for a fake kiss on the cheek. The delight in Jessa’s face was impossible to miss. Jessa was meant for this—these ballrooms, the ritual of fundraising, all of it.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” Cora gushed. “And can I add you look stunning! Where did you get this dress?”
Jessa’s cheeks went pink. Her throat bobbed. “I, uh…I made it myself.”
