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I breathe a sigh of relief when he releases me.
“All right then,” he says, and those gray eyes meet mine heavily as he addresses me directly. “I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter Two: Emory
Jackson’s laughterechoes in the spacious room, his eyes closed, and his head tossed back, gaining us disapproving looks from neighboring tables.
“It’s not that funny,” I grumble into my glass.
“It definitely is.” His laughter dissolves into chuckles. “You should be glad I finally got you to come out. This is the most excitement you’ve had since taking over the company.”
I grunt as I scan the room for the head of familiar shiny brown hair. “I wouldn’t call this excitement. I almost cost them their jobs, Jackson.”
“At least you recognized theerror of your waysbefore it was too late,” Jackson says sarcastically and shrugs.
I frown. A flashback of the stricken expression on the young waitress’s face when Henrietta had suggested that she would “deal with them” flits through my mind. It was clear she needs this job and was willing to do anything to keep it. I want to know why. For some reason, I’m curious about her. The feeling is so strange to me that I can do nothing but sip from my glass and pretend I’m not seeking her out.
The Wild Heart takes up the entire top two floors of the Four Seasons, Pennsylvania. With its near completely open-concept eating areas on both floors and incredible three sixty view of downtown Pennsylvania, it’s no surprise that it’s ranked one of the best places to dine in the city. From its glittering marble floors to the ostentatious chandeliers, velvet upholstery and cream-colored walls, the place is the dictionary definition of luxurious dining.
I scan the room again in search of satiny brown hair. When I don’t find her, I turn back to take a sip from my glass and meet Jackson’s knowing gaze.
“You’re not being very conspicuous, Emory. If you’re going to spend the rest of the night moping about a womanyou”—he gestures to me with his glass—“almost gotfired, then I’m going to my room.”
Jackson gives me a pointed look when my head snaps toward the double doors that lead to the kitchen as they swing open. The person that walks out is not Camry’s friend. I frown.
“What did you say this charity event was for again?” I ask. The company tonight seems to be mostly elderly. And, of course, uber-rich. My father wouldn’t be caught dead at these events. He liked to pretend he was younger than his age.
“It’s for the Pennsylvania Home for the Elderly,” Jackson tuts. “Didn’t you read the invitation?”
“Alyse read it.”
“You mean the assistant you fired three days ago?” Jackson points out. “Did you at least make a donation?”
“I did.”
Jackson studies me for a long moment. His golden eyes glint with something knowing. He stares so long I start to squirm. “How’re you holding up, Emory?”
“I’m f—”
“Before you lie to me, remember who you’re talking to.”
My jaw snaps shut. Jackson isn’t someone I’ve met recently. He’s not a work colleague or a client. He’s my best friend and the one person who sees beneath the rough exterior—who sees me for more than just the cutthroat businessman and one of California’s most eligible bachelors. I finish the rest of my scotch in a single gulp and sit back heavily against the soft, padded back of my chair.
“It’s better than when he left it,” I start. “I’ve got the finances up and running, start-ups coming in, and partners who want a piece of the pie. It’s taken me five fucking years, Jackson, but I’ve finally dug us out of that hellhole. It’s time to start expanding, thinking bigger. The board is iffy about it because they think I’m too young, that my ideas are too bold.”
“Well, first of all, congratulations on single-handedly fixing the shit storm your father left behind—”
“It wasn’t singlehandedly. Don’t pretend you didn’t help.”
“Yeah, well, I helped with the execution. You were the brains, Emory. You better be goddamn proud of yourself. Aunt Lucy would be.”
At the mention of my mother, I smile. Hell yeah, she would. Ana, too, I realize. They’d both be proud of me. The familiar guilt that consumes me whenever my family is brought up surfaces with a vengeance, but I’ve had years to mask that reaction.
“You think they’re mad I cut dad and Adam off?”
Jackson freezes at my question, his glass halfway to his lips. I know it’s because I’ve rarely spoken about my father and brother since the accident. Since my father checked himself out of rehab for the third time, only for me to take him back. Since my brother stopped answering my calls and speaking to me in general. Until recently, that is.
“No, I think they’d understand. Even family can be toxic sometimes.”
