Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
J asmine propped herself against the doorjamb as the morning sun filtered into her new office. She chose the smallest room in the penthouse, what she later learned was the maids’ quarters. Sarai was appalled and went over her head to get Roth’s approval to claim the second-largest room in the penthouse for her office.
During her interview with the interior designer, Cazandra, she’d requested a simple, minimalistic design. All she needed was a space to file paperwork and hopefully write a book once they’d gotten through the holidays. She should have known, with Sarai involved, her instructions would be treated more like suggestions. If she’d had an inkling of what they intended, she would have stopped them.
She’d assumed her office would blend in with the rest of the home. Neutral colors, elegant furniture, and maybe a unique wallpaper to give the space some personality. But she’d chosen Cazandra for her unique style. She should have known the designer wouldn’t play it safe.
The room bore no resemblance to the white slate it had been before Cazandra got her hands on it. The walls were the deepest black, without a lick of gloss to soften them. Even the ceiling had been painted to create an insulated, cave-like feel that was a stark contrast to the bright and airy penthouse in the clouds. The door was matte-black, with gold knobs and an elaborate door knocker that would lead most to assume it was the entry into a different wing, not a single room.
Her office had always been the most important room in her home, yet she’d never made the effort to make the space her own. Not her apartment in Chelsea or the library she’d shared with her dad. Even though she now owned the estate at Tuxedo Park, she had yet to move even a lamp. She’d never truly settled anywhere. She’d always known she was passing through. She wanted to treat this penthouse with Roth the same way, but Sarai and Cazandra wouldn’t allow it. Throughout her life, many things had been custom-made for her—clothes, makeup, jewelry—but none of that had been for her ; it was to maintain the Hennessy image. But this... This haven called to the depths of her soul.
She advanced into the room and paused beside the desk: a work of art built into a sleek curve that faced a bookshelf, where her books as Minnie Hess and Thalia Crane were proudly displayed. A new computer she hadn’t requested waited patiently for her to fill the empty screen with words. She hadn’t written in what felt like months, and she desperately needed the escape. Once she crossed the threshold, she was no longer Jasmine Roth with all her emotional baggage and the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. This was a sanctuary for creativity. Reality wasn’t allowed to intrude here.
She never would have chosen such a bold and unapologetic design. It was too individualistic, unorthodox, and revealing. Anyone who caught a glimpse of this room would know more about her than she’d ever voluntarily divulge. The office didn’t fit with her respectable public persona. This room was a brooding, dark fantasy—the part of herself she went to great lengths to keep hidden. Cazandra had indulged both sides of her personality—the cynic and the romantic—in unforgiving black and shades of pink. If they’d told her the color scheme ahead of time, she would have given it a hard pass. Who knew the colors worked so well together?
She looked up at a floating masterpiece—an intricate flower, made of layers of transparent dark glass hanging upside down. A soft pink light made it look as if the flower were burning from within. It set the tone for the fantastical, moody room, with its plush fuchsia couch, metal accents, and jewel-toned paintings in black frames. It was the little touches like the soft pink back panel of the bookshelf that made her heart sing. The tiny rose arrangements of every shade of pink imaginable tied everything together beautifully.
Her trinkets from Tuxedo Park had magically appeared and were staged with great care. She walked over to the shelf and rearranged glass figurines, a waving Chinese cat, and her snow globes. The mermaid she’d picked up in Copenhagen looked more miserable than ever.
“Same, girl,” she murmured.
Maybe love just wasn’t in the cards for some women. In her case, it could be a generational curse. She ran her fingers over the pink alabaster jewelry box she’d inherited from her mother and opened the lid. Diamonds, precious gemstones, and costume jewelry winked up at her. She surveyed the familiar rings, necklaces, brooches, and bracelets she’d pored over as a little girl. She wished she knew the story behind the signet ring with the letter “J” and what looked like multiple promise rings. She slipped on her favorite one—a heart-shaped ruby with a diamond halo. When she was six, she made the mistake of asking Maximus if he gave the ring to her mother. That was the first time she’d witnessed him lose his temper. She’d learned never to ask questions about Elena, and never wore her mother’s jewelry in his presence.
Her mother had quite the collection for a personal assistant. The more valuable pieces were in the safe at Tuxedo Park. Although her father wouldn’t admit it, she suspected once upon a time, he’d been head over heels for her mother and had bought her whatever her heart desired. After their relationship deteriorated, maybe he turned resentful over what he’d given her and didn’t want to discuss it. She assumed he was responsible for at least a portion of her mother’s jewelry, though there were signs, like the signet ring and other pieces, that Elena had met other suitors along the way. Maybe some of these pieces were from her last lover, whose child she’d been carrying in that fatal car crash.
She untangled the dainty “E” pendant and put it on, along with a diamond anklet, gold bangles, and a panther cocktail ring encrusted in diamonds. She surveyed herself in the mirror, decked out in her mother’s jewelry and her own. Although the jewelry winked and sparkled, it didn’t inspire a smile. Her exhaustion was apparent in her pale, drawn features and lackluster eyes. Was she destined to share her mother’s lonely fate, constantly searching for love and never finding it?
She made her way over to an armchair and took in the view of Brooklyn and the East River. Seeing water reminded her of ships and life beyond this bustling city. In 320 days, she could do whatever her heart desired. She sipped from the delicate china. The coffee was so delicious her eyelids drooped. She soaked in the moment, enjoying the quiet after a hectic week of last-minute Christmas shopping and cramming whatever appointments she could fit in before everyone left the city to travel for the holidays.
She’d met with Heinrich’s wife, Sabine, a sweet woman who was having a hard time adjusting to life in the States. She reached out to Colette for a list of women in society who spoke German and could guide Sabine through her first events. Yesterday, she’d returned to the penthouse to find a gift basket of German chocolates, cheese, tea, and wine, with a heartfelt note of gratitude.
She kept her word to Penelope’s son, Teddy, and sent every flavor of Pop-Tart she could find and included Twinkies for Zach. She’d also sent a gift for little Mariah and the rest of the family. She gave Johnny camera gear that would help him with his work, and a weeklong stay at Sintra Marmòris Palace—a place both he and Aleixo admired but had never had the pleasure of staying. When they’d called to reprimand her for her “too generous” gift, Aleixo exploded when he found out she was the American who’d bought more than two hundred bottles of wine from the vineyard he worked at with his father.
Sarai had found Jasmine an overeager personal assistant, Marisol, who put together gift baskets for everyone from the Davies to her board of advisors. Daiyu called within hours of receiving hers to inquire about the wine and when she was coming in for her fitting. Thankfully, there was a crisis on Daiyu’s end that cut the conversation short, but Jasmine had received several threatening texts since then. Daiyu wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Marisol was as scarily efficient as Sarai and had whittled down a list of more than two hundred charities that met Jasmine’s criteria to a manageable thirty within a day. Her accountant had heart palpitations when she decided to donate ten percent of her inheritance—a whopping thirty million—to one dozen charities. Strangely, offloading a portion of her inheritance made her feel like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The paranoia of worrying about every cent and whether she’d get a return on her investments made her toss and turn at night, but this... This was easy. Knowing the money would be well-used and that she was making a difference in the world made it simple to let go.
Drunk on her Santa Claus high, she’d decided to give Thea a bonus. The last thing she expected was a heated lecture from her normally sweet, soft-spoken housekeeper. Thea said her salary was more than sufficient and rejected the direct deposit. There was no arguing with her. Before Thea ended the call, she inquired if she would be spending Christmas with her sisters. She didn’t want Thea to worry, so she lied and said they hadn’t finalized their plans yet. Despite Lyle and Colette’s urgings, she was holding firm to her decision to keep her distance.
Based on her communication with her sisters, Roth hadn’t delivered his ultimatum yet. When he did, all hell would break loose. She knew Ariana’s updates on her therapy appointments and that she was staying clean didn’t matter to him. Neither did the slew of baby pictures Colette inundated their group chat with. Even if Colette didn’t realize it, she was enjoying her time off and finding joy in a simpler life that didn’t include the stress of running a company. Would her sister return to the grind and ignore Lyle’s desires for more children, or would she bow out of the company and let Roth take it over?
The distant rumble of a man’s voice made her frown. She thought she was imagining things at first, but there was no mistaking the sharp clip of shoes as Roth came down the hall. Her heart picked up speed. What was he doing here?
When he appeared in the open doorway, she turned her head. He was dressed in a buttoned long coat, gloves, and scarf. She held her breath as he gave the room a cursory glance. She doubted this gothic Barbie retreat was what he’d had in mind when he insisted she hire an interior designer. He didn’t look pleased, but that was the expression he’d worn since he returned from Los Angeles.
He’d reverted to the man he vowed he wouldn’t be this time around. He wasn’t cruel. It was worse. He looked right through her. She kept waiting for a break in his icy demeanor, but he wasn’t around long enough to thaw. During the handful of hours they spent in the same bed, they’d lie on opposite sides without exchanging a word. It was the worst form of torture, to be so close to someone you cared about and be so blatantly ignored. They switched roles. Now it was Roth who slept like a baby while she’d lain there in hell. He had no nightmares and no sexual appetite. It was as if she didn’t exist.
It hurt to look at him or be in the same room as him, so she’d kept busy. She’d started visiting the pool with the same regularity that he hit the gym. Her hair was still wet from this morning’s swim.
The only reason she was here instead of running around the city was because, with Christmas just days away, everything had been postponed until the New Year. No one had invited her to gatherings, assuming she’d be spending the holiday with her husband. The husband who was currently eyeing her as if she were an unwanted pet he regretted purchasing. A dangerous fantasy of him drenched in coffee crossed her mind, but she banished the thought before she acted on it.
“We have an engagement tonight,” he announced.
Of course. That was the only reason he’d bother to seek her out.
“What kind of engagement?” She was proud her even tone didn’t betray her emotions.
“The Trentham Ball.”
If her cup were full, it would have sloshed down her front when she jerked to the edge of her seat. “You got an invitation?”
He nodded and switched his gaze to his flashing phone. He frowned, clearly not liking what he saw onscreen. “I’ll pick you up at six,” he said as he turned away.
She set her cup down with a clatter and leaped to her feet. “Wait!”
He paused but didn’t look up from his phone. “What?”
“I can’t go to the Trentham Ball! I don’t have anything to wear!”
“A dress will be delivered,” he said, his mind clearly somewhere else.
“You don’t understand. It can’t be some dress off the rack. If?—”
“Daiyu made the dress,” he said impatiently. “And Sarai scheduled appointments to get you ready for tonight. She’ll send you the details.”
“How did Daiyu know I needed a dress?”
He looked up, brows knit with irritation. “What?”
“How long,” she said slowly and deliberately, “have you known we’d be attending the Trentham Ball?”
“What does that matter?”
“It matters,” she snapped back.
“Why? You’ve been to hundreds of parties.”
“The Trentham Ball isn’t a party ,” she stressed through clenched teeth. “It’s the most exclusive event of the year. Not even my father was guaranteed an invite. How did you manage to get on the guest list?”
“Sullivan.”
“You know Sullivan Trentham?”
His eyes narrowed at her disbelieving tone, but she couldn’t help it. She was astounded. Befriending British royalty was one thing, but the Trenthams were the untouchables of New York, as interwoven into the city as the Rockefellers. Sullivan Trentham was one of the very few her father had trodden lightly around.
“We met a long time ago,” he said in a clipped tone that told her his patience was running thin. “And I don’t have time to talk about this. I’m going to be late for a meeting.”
A dangerous mix of incredulous anger and panic made her throat swell. As a young girl, she’d dreamed of attending the legendary Trentham Ball. Her sisters had prepared for this event for weeks, getting custom gowns made and doing exhaustive research to discover who was on the guest list, and Roth was giving her mere hours to prepare.
This event gathered such an exclusive pool that it was rumored attending just once could set you up for the rest of your life. But it could have the adverse effect as well. Offending the wrong person could ruin any chance of success.
She’d known they would return to society at some point, but she never imagined it would be at such a high-profile event. Their presence would draw so much negative attention it would inhibit any networking Roth tried to do. She’d gotten a taste of it at her dad’s funeral—the sidelong looks, the whispers about her past scandal, and the deliberate snub from those who saw her as inferior due to her illegitimacy. If Roth had mentioned this ahead of time, she could have eased them back into society by going to smaller events to break the ice. But he was leaping in at the deep end, and she was pretty sure they were going to drown.
As she opened her mouth to explain the magnitude of attending the ball, Roth spun on his heel and started for the door. After a week of being treated like a piece of furniture, her temper snapped.
“I’m not going.”
She didn’t shout, but she didn’t have to.
He neatly pivoted to face her. For the first time in a week, they made eye contact. Her stomach clenched. There was no sign of the man who’d begged her to stay and vowed to make her happy. The man standing before her might as well have been a stranger. He was emotionally closed off from her, as if those intimate moments had never been.
He didn’t say a word, silently pressuring her to retract what she’d said.
“I’m not going,” she said again, more firmly than the first time.
“Yes, you are.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you wanted me to go, you should have given me more time to prepare.”
“For what? Everything’s taken care of.”
“This event isn’t like the parties my dad held. This... There’s no comparison. You have no idea what...” Explanations streaked through her mind, but his obvious impatience told her she was wasting her time. “I can’t go.”
“I’m not asking.”
Her whirling thoughts ground to a halt. “What?”
“We made a deal. You agreed to fulfill all roles as my wife for the year that I own you,” he stated as he started toward her. “That means when I want you to fuck me, you fuck me. When I want you to travel with me, you pack your fucking bag. And when I tell you to attend an event with me, you do so, no questions asked. In return, I make sure Hennessy when she thought they might be building something more. But it would always come back to their deal. This wasn’t a real marriage where she could refuse without consequences. He valued her for her body and background, and since it appeared he’d had his fill of her sexually, that left business. She wasn’t here to daydream and write in an office with a multimillion-dollar view. He’d married her to leverage her connections and further his gains.
She’d fulfilled two parts of their agreement—she’d traveled with him and fucked his brains out—but she’d neglected the most important part. Seven years ago, Roth was an outsider. This time, he had contacts like Sullivan Trentham, had reached the coveted billionaire status, and had the daughter of his enemy on his arm. The Trentham Ball was the ideal setting for an epic comeback. This wasn’t about her; it was about cementing his image in society. She was an expensive prop, nothing more, and he expected to get his money’s worth. He’d do whatever was necessary to ensure she complied, once again threatening to pull the plug on Hennessy & Co., even if he lost millions in the process. She had no doubt he would do it. In his mind, she hadn’t paid up. Her loving devotion meant nothing to him. All that mattered was business.
She took a fortifying breath and put her shoulders back. Her father’s training would stop her from making a fool of herself. She knew how society worked and how she’d be received. She had never been respected, even as a Hennessy. She’d redeemed herself a little when she reconciled with her father, but reentering the highest levels of society on the arm of the man she’d cheated with while engaged to Ford Baldwin? It was going to cause an uproar.
Roth was a powerhouse... and a man. Men always got a pass when it came to infidelity. It was the women who were always shunned. The fact she’d married her lover twice wouldn’t make a difference to the prudes in high society. And it was no secret that Roth was now the majority shareholder of Hennessy & Co. Tongues would be wagging tonight.
The fact he’d given her no warning and shoved her back into the spotlight showed how little he cared for her feelings. He knew how much she hated circulating in society. On top of the cold shoulder he’d given her this week, Roth now expected her to put on the performance of her life in an arena that had always been her version of hell on earth.
She wasn’t sure how long she stared into space, but she came out of her stupor when she heard the distant ringing of her phone. She should get that. It was probably Sarai calling to give her a rundown of her appointments for the day. Appointments she desperately needed to be anywhere near presentable for, given the level of scrutiny she’d be under tonight.
When the phone quieted, she forced herself to move. She made her way back to her jewelry box and took off all her mother’s pieces aside from the ruby ring and diamond anklet, which she didn’t feel like giving up.
She stared at her first wedding band—the one Roth said he’d held on to as a reminder. Of what, she still didn’t know. For her, it represented a new start—one that ended before it began. Roth was like any man. They loved the chase, but once they got what they wanted, they lost interest. She’d always known his thirst for ambition and power came first, but for a few weeks she’d foolishly allowed herself to believe that she was in his top priorities too. Her delusions had been officially laid to rest.
She dropped Roth’s ring in the jewelry box, along with all the other broken promises from her mother’s lovers. As her phone trilled again, she strode out of the office. Dread and trepidation were replaced by grim resolve. She’d been training for a night like this all her life. She would ensure Roth got his money’s worth. If she did her job well enough and he accomplished everything he planned for the evening that would cement his place in society, perhaps he would have no further need of her, call it even, and release her.