“What was he wrong about?” I sat down across from him, crossing my legs as I leaned back. A deep, unquenchable curiosity opened a pit inside me. I’d spent hours with this man at various events over the past week, but I knew precious little about him, other than the fact that he was great at closing business deals and his family sucked.
But there’d been a mentor. Someone who had cared about Jared Branson, the boy, and not just Jared Branson, the business mogul.
“He told me if I didn’t let people in, things would crumble in the end. No man could stand on his own, he said. But I’m here, and I’m standing.”
“On your own.”
“Precisely.”
“On the other hand, my dad once told me that lighthouses don’t run around looking for boats to save. They just stand there and shine.” I grinned at the memory. My dad was a cheeseball.
“Maybe I missed the shining memo.” A hint of a grin twitched over his lips in response.
Encouraged, my smile widened. “You just stand there and wait for unsuspecting boats to crash at your feet.”
That coaxed a chuckle out of him, and he asked, “What about you? Close with your dad?”
“I was,” I said. “He passed when I was fifteen.”
Jared nodded. “Sorry.”
There was no pity in his voice. No discomfort that usually came with people hearing about loss. He seemed to understand me without me having to say a word. We sat across from each other, separated by several feet and a food-laden coffee table, but I felt closer to him than I ever had before. “Thanks. Stomach cancer. It was horrible.”
“I can imagine. Reg was a smoker. Got his esophagus in the end, and then spread. But it’s funny; after he died is when this really took off.” He waved a hand around his office. “Sometimes I think it was his final gift to me. The last push I needed to make something of myself.”
Or maybe, I thought, he channeled his grief into work, because the alternative was standing on a windblown coastline watching ships shatter on the rocks.
My phone buzzed, interrupting our conversation. I glanced at the notification and let out a frustrated huff.
“Everything okay?”
Glancing up, I saw the frown on Jared’s face. I shook my head. “It’s fine. I’ve just been applying for rentals for weeks and I keep getting rejected. I don’t get it. My new salary should be more than enough to satisfy these people. But they don’t just want an employment contract, they want months of pay slips. They want deposits. They want my firstborn child. It’s never-ending.”
His frown deepened. “A rental for what?”
“Um. To…live?” I laughed. “An apartment. I have to move out of mine by the end of the month.”
“How come?”
“The owners are moving back in. It’s a real shame because it was a rent-controlled place, and my living costs are going to skyrocket now.” I grimaced. “Not that that’s your problem.”
“I’ll talk to Clara. She’ll sort something out.”
Warmth spread through me, but still, this job had fallen into my lap. I didn’t want to tie my living situation to it as well. Then if things went wrong, I’d be in really bad shape. “No, that’s okay?-“
“It was inconvenient for us to pick you up in Brooklyn. We’ll get somewhere on this side of the bridge so we don’t have to drive so much.” He stood and stalked to the office door then poked his head out. “Clara. Find somewhere for Little to live. Somewhere we don’t have to cross half the city to get her to an event on time.”
I scowled at his back. He sure had a way of making a favor from him sound like it was my problem.
When Clara called out an answer, he crossed back to the couch in front of me. “Next weekend is the anniversary party at Garcia’s place in the Hamptons. We’re going to have to address the perfume bottle incident.”
“Right,” I said, trying to follow the subject change. We were done talking about personal issues, it seemed. Back to work. “I’m guessing he was angry about the damage?”
“We’ve been working on a CGI version of the commercial, but the man is obsessed with authenticity. We need to wait for a new bottle, and I know he’s getting antsy. He’ll have to delay his launch because of the mistake.”
Because of my mistake, he meant. Guilt squirmed through me, and I shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was an accident.”
I straightened. “You mean that?”
His gaze settled on mine, and he arched a brow. “Off the record, I do.”
A smile twitched at the corners of my lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I won’t say it in your lawyer’s presence.”
My smile widened. “You think he’s that much of a shark?”
“I think I’m done being squeezed for all I’m worth by opportunistic women in red lipstick.”
“Opportunistic!” I protested, even though it was true.
“Don’t play the innocent doe. It doesn’t suit you.”
“I think you’re mad you didn’t intimidate me.”
He scoffed. “Hardly.”
“Would you believe me if I told you I wasn’t trying to squeeze you for all you were worth?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.