CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE JACK
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
J ACK
Eight Years Earlier
At the knock on his office door, Jack looked up from his spreadsheet, expecting to see Lionel. The firm’s other account managers had already left for the night. Jack was used to being one of the last to leave, second, sometimes, to his boss.
But it wasn’t Lionel. As a woman waltzed into his office from the unlit hallway, he recognized Sabrina’s silhouette. She’d taken off her stilettos and sauntered toward his desk, her fitted dress straining against each long stride.
In one hand, she held a champagne bottle, her manicured fingers wrapped around its neck. In the other were two flute glasses.
“Heard you closed the Goldstein account.” She smiled, lifting the champagne bottle in front of her chest.
Jack leaned back in his chair. “That I did.”
She was no longer wearing the blazer she’d had on earlier in the day. Her cleavage spilled out of the dress’s low neckline.
An uneasiness crept over him as she set the bottle and glasses on his desk. He worried this was going to be like the Christmas party all over again. When Sabrina cornered him in a below-deck hallway of the firm’s rented yacht, she’d already had several drinks. Jack had left the group upstairs in search of a bathroom and got turned around, then found himself in an impossible situation. She confessed to still having feelings for him, admitting to never quite getting over their breakup in college.
At the time, he’d chalked it up to her being drunk—he’d had a few too many himself. Which was what he blamed for not resisting hard enough when she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth—then her body—against his.
Now Sabrina stood by his desk, watching him with a playful expression. “Closing a big account always calls for a celebration.” She flung her blond hair over her shoulder before untwisting the wire holding down the cork.
Jack glanced at the clock. Aaron Goldstein, the founder of the biggest online real estate marketplace, would be Jack’s biggest client—by far. Landing the Goldstein account also meant he would be busier now than ever. It was after midnight, but he still had hours of paperwork if he was going to deliver the results he promised.
“Actually, Sabrina, I still have a lot of work to do.”
An audible pop filled the office when Sabrina released the cork from the bottle. She poured a glass and extended it toward him. “Just one drink.”
Jack hesitated.
“Come on. You deserve it,” she added.
He accepted the glass. “All right.” His eyes could use a break from the spreadsheet numbers. “Just one.”
After pouring her own, Sabrina moved around the side of his desk, perching herself on the edge beside him. He got a whiff of her sweet perfume. The same scent he had inhaled when he kissed her neck on the yacht.
He pushed back his chair. “Sabrina—”
She laid her hand over his wrist. “Don’t worry. We’re just having a drink. Between friends.”
Jack took a sip from his champagne and felt himself relax. They were friends. Had been since they were seven. And what happened on that yacht was a drunken mistake. They both knew it.
Sabrina crossed her legs. “You’ve been working for months to close this account. It must feel so good to have finally sealed the deal.” She lifted her flute to her full lips.
“It does.” He thought of all the meetings, phone calls, and late-night dinners he’d sat through these last few months. Then there were the hours he’d spent prepping for them, grinding out market analysis reports and sample investment portfolios. But it was a huge account, the biggest he would manage by far, and it had been worth it.
He thought of Makayla, home asleep, while he sat here sharing a glass of champagne with his childhood best friend. He hadn’t been home enough lately, and he should have been celebrating with his wife.
Jack yawned. “Damn, I’m so tired. I can’t believe I’ve still got so much to do.”
“You’ve been working really hard.”
Jack took another drink. Talking to Sabrina had always been easy. He missed talking like this with Makayla, who hadn’t been the same since her mom passed. Even when he was home, she was preoccupied, putting all her energy into her awareness campaign for the amnesia disorder that contributed to her mother’s fatal car accident.
“Maybe you should take a break for the night.” Sabrina set down her glass and scooted closer to him. “Start fresh in the morning.”
Jack finished what was left in his flute. He checked the time. Sabrina was right. He was exhausted. He turned off his computer, and Sabrina slid onto his lap.
“Whoa!” he said, abruptly standing.
Sabrina stumbled to her feet.
“We can’t.” He held out his hand. “I’m married. What happened before was a mistake—you know that.”
Sabrina smoothed the skirt of her dress. “You need someone who understands you, Jack. Makayla’s hardly spoken to you these last few months, while you’ve been under so much pressure to land this account.”
Jack straightened. He’d told Lionel that in confidence. Heat rushed to his face.
“She lost her mother.”
“Oh, come on. That was two years ago.” She placed both palms on his chest. “It was always you and me.”
She tilted her face toward his.
Jack peeled her hands off him. “Go home, Sabrina.” He snatched his suit jacket off the back of his chair. “I’m leaving too.”
She reached for his arm. “Jack! Wait.”
He pulled away, striding for the door without looking back.
She was still in his office when he reached the elevator, and he was relieved to ride down alone.
The next morning, Jack threw open the door and burst into Sabrina’s office. With her phone to her ear, she watched him storm toward her. The passive look on her face—as if she wasn’t expecting this—only infuriated him more.
“ What have you done? ” he shouted.
She pursed her lips. “I’m going to have to call you back,” she said before hanging up her desk phone. She batted her eyelashes. “What do you mean?”
Jack flexed his jaw. “You know what I mean. You gave my Goldstein account to Roger! After everything I did. That was my account. I spent the last three months trying to get them to invest with us. And not just us—with me .” Jack pointed in the direction of Roger’s office down the hall. “You can’t do that. Roger’s retiring later this year. Giving him that account makes no sense, and you know it.”
She folded her hands atop her desk, not even bothering to hide how much she was enjoying this. “I can do whatever I think is in the best interest of the firm. I feel that account is a better fit for Roger. And I already spoke with Lindsey. When Roger retires, she’s happy to take over the account.”
Jack gritted his teeth. Lindsey was the firm’s newest hire, and everyone knew she wouldn’t last long. She rarely stayed past four o’clock, and she shopped online as much as she actually worked. Jack wondered how she even got hired in the first place.
“What the hell, Sabrina?”
She glanced at the glass office wall. “You might want to keep your voice down. We don’t need any office rumors going around about us.”
Jack took another step toward her desk. “So, what? Because I didn’t let you come on to me last night, you think you can take the Goldstein account away from me?” He snorted. “Well, you can’t. I’m going to see your father about this. Tell him what you’ve done. And why.”
Sabrina’s pink-lipsticked mouth curled into a sly smile. “No, you won’t. Because if you do, I’ll tell Makayla about the Christmas party.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “You want to tell her you threw yourself at me after I’d had a few drinks? That we kissed for a few minutes before I pushed you away and told you it could never happen again? Fine. You were the one who came on to me. I shouldn’t have kissed you back, but it meant nothing.”
Sabrina’s smile faded. “We slept together, Jack. At least, that’s how I remember it.”
“I’m not even going to entertain this. You know that’s not true.” Jack turned for the door.
“And last night, when you stayed here so late, it was you who came on to me. I shouldn’t have let it happen a second time, but you were so ... forceful.”
Jack whipped around when he reached her doorway. “How dare you.”
Sabrina shook her head. “No, Jack. How dare you . If you go to my father about this, then I’ll have no choice but to tell him my side of the story.” She twirled a piece of her hair. “And you’re a fool if you think he’d believe you over his own daughter.”