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“Right you are, sir,” said Paul, my driver.
“I can’t believe it,” said Jamie, as we began to crawl through the streets of downtown Boston. We passed South Station, the park, and before long I could see the dark blue water of the bay on our right. But I was feeling increasingly gloomy at saying goodbye to the enchanting, clever woman I’d gotten to know this afternoon.
When we got to the hotel, I was about to get out. And then, Jamie’s stomach rumbled.
“Oh,” she said, putting a hand on her slim waist. “I’m sorry. I, uh, skipped lunch today.”
“It’s no problem,” I laughed.
“My fridge is a little bare at the moment,” she said. “I’ve been looking around for jobs all week. Didn’t even have time to shop for groceries.”
“I can help with that,” I said. “You know, there’s a five-star restaurant on the ground floor.” I gestured at the fabulous hotel, which was lit up in the darkness. Through the window, I could see the white tablecloths of the restaurant and wine being poured.
“I guess I could stay a little longer,” Jamie said. But both of us knew this wasn’t what we’d planned. I’d thought I’d be saying goodbye to Jamie. And yet here she was, following me up the enormous stone steps of the hotel and into its brilliant lobby, blazing brightly from the light of the glass chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.
When we got to the restaurant, I could see it was already crowded, and Jamie stopped at the front door and turned to me hesitantly.
“You know, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“What?” I said curiously. “Why not?” I felt my mood grow dark. I didn’t want to say goodbye to her—not now. I was looking forward to sharing a meal with Jamie, to hearing more about her life. But at the same time, if she felt uncomfortable with me, I didn’t want to make her stay.
“It’s just,” she said, and turned to me, speaking in a low voice. “I think a lot of my dad’s friends eat at this place.”
I looked into her eyes, and this time they were full of concern.
I knew what Jamie meant. How would it look if we were seen eating out together? What would Tom say if he knew that I was taking his beautiful daughter out to dinner—when I’d been supposed to be interviewing her for a job?
I knew I should have stopped it right there. I could have sent Jamie Reed home that night, and things would all be different.
But I didn’t say that.
Instead, I said something completely different.
“Perhaps we could have dinner in my suite, then,” I said.
Chapter Three
Jamie
WhatEricdidn’ttellme was that the ‘suite’ in question was at the top of the hotel. There, I stood by one of the wide windows, among antique furniture, watching the water shimmering on the bay. The lights of the city were entrancing, and I was so absorbed that I didn’t even notice when he appeared behind me and tapped me on the shoulder.
“Oh!” I said in shock. “Hi.” He passed me my drink, a glass of champagne he’d poured me to celebrate my new job.
My head was spinning, and I hadn’t even finished my second drink. It wasn’t that I was drunk. I was intoxicated by the wealth and power that surrounded Eric’s life, and the speed at which he’d transformed my life. I’d gone from being an out-of-work PR girl worrying about how to pay her rent, to being a billionaire investor’s newest executive, in just a few short hours. Everything had changed, and things were finally looking up.
There was just one problem, though.
And that was Eric.
Over our delicious supper, which had arrived in the suite on silver platters, I couldn’t help but look at him. In the elegant, dimmed lighting of the hotel suite, I watched him eat. And I’d become obsessed with tiny gestures of his, the way he turned his hand in the air when he made a point or the way he bowed his head and fixed me with a stare from his dark, brown eyes when he was listening to every word I had to say. The attention surprised me. I was used to being ignored in boardrooms, being written off as another wannabe influencer who was good only for writing Facebook posts and trawling through dashboards.
I knew that Eric was attracted to me, of course. Only I didn’t mind, and I wasn’t scared. Because the truth was that I was hopelessly attracted to him. He wasn’t like men my age; I knew that. He was sophisticated and patient, careful to always look out for me. When we’d walked together, he kept pace with me and never left me on my own. He was a control freak for sure and liked conversations to go his way. But something in me appreciated that. In a world where it seemed rude to stop talking, Eric made it so I never had to think too hard about what to say next.
We sat down together on the couch. I felt comfortable around him now, scared no longer. Even if he was still intimidating because of his physical presence and his deep voice.
“This has been a crazy day,” I admitted.
“I hope it’s been the good kind of crazy.”
