Chapter 13
Jenna
Jeez, that was tough.
I'm damn near exhausted after that breakfast, not from physical effort but from mental energy.
I'm practically shaking, but I tell my driver to stop at the nearest coffee bar for a latte and a slice of chocolate cake that I would normally allow myself—on this occasion I feel I've earned it ten times over.
Then I force myself to go to my meeting anyway.
It really had been a brutal hour and a half. Was that all? I check my phone. Yes, we'd got there at nine, and it's still not even eleven. Feels more like a week than just under two hours.
Had that been a breakfast date with any real fiancé's family, I think I would have cancelled the wedding then and there. Seriously. The engagement would have been off, and I would never have spoken to him again, because… who the hell do they think they are?
Seeing his parents at least helps me understand why Grayson's such a monumental asshole.
Being raised by those two slimeballs could not have been much fun.
Yeah, it all makes sense now as to why he's such a pain in the ass.
He grew up with parents who think their shit doesn't stink, and no doubt they convinced him that his doesn't stink either.
Now he walks around doing whatever the fuck he wants, with no consideration for others or accountability for his actions.
To give Grayson his due, his parents are even worse than he is.
Why would anyone put themselves through that and marry into that family?
For love? Ha! What is love anyway? Whatever it is, it sure isn't worth it.
Nothing and nobody should be worth subjecting yourself to humiliation by a family of mean-spirited snobs who think they're better than anyone else simply because they're loaded and you aren't.
On the other hand… if it's only for six months, that million dollars just might be worth it.
I'm just very thankful I only have to meet them twice a month.
I gulp down the latte, then take deep breaths in the limo—in through the nose, hold, then out through the mouth in a huffing noise, just as my yoga teacher instructed me—gradually calming myself for the day ahead.
I'm grateful that the driver—Raul—doesn't give me any weird looks.
He must be used to women doing breathing exercises in the back seat.
Or more likely, he is just extremely well-paid and knows how to be discreet.
There are some advantages to being wealthy, after all, it seems.
I push the intercom button. "Are you married, Raul?" I ask him.
He glances at me through the rearview mirror. "Yes, I am, ma'am. Happily."
"What's your relationship like with your mother-in-law?"
He chuckles. "She hated me for the first three years of our marriage, but lately, she's warming up to me."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Hasn't called me a hairy ape with no brains and zero future prospects for at least a month now, so I think I must be doing good."
I chuckle and shake my head. "God save us from monsters-in-law."
"Amen to that, ma'am."
I get to the office with not a single second to spare before my meeting starts.
It's with a brand-new client who's planning a super sweet-sixteenth birthday event for her daughter.
Her budget is on the lower side for us, but I decided to take her on anyway, because honestly, her story touched me.
Her daughter survived a horrific car crash when she was fourteen, and suffered major pelvic fractures and terrible burns.
But she was a fighter, and gradually she rebuilt her life, undergoing painful surgery and then the slow path of rehabilitation, until she could walk again without crutches.
Now, two years later, they're putting that terrible incident behind them and celebrating the fact she's alive and pretty much fully recovered.
Naturally, her mom wants the party to be perfect, and I want to make it perfect for her. Every once in a while, I take on a passion project like this. The more expensive clients are good for business, but honestly, gigs like these touch my soul and they're necessary to keep me sane.
Sometime around the middle of the afternoon, Ash calls me.
It's not the first time. She called earlier that morning, too, while I was having breakfast with Grayson's parents, and again when I was in my client meeting.
Obviously, I couldn't answer the phone either of those times, but now that I have a break, I pick up, anticipating what she's going to say.
"Hey, darling."
"Don't darling me. Traitor," she says. "You told me you wouldn't move out till you got married."
"I did, didn't I?" How ironic. "But Ash, babes, I haven't actually moved out. Not really. I'm still sharing the rent and my stuff's still there, and I'll be coming back just as soon as I possibly can."
"Look, Jenna, I'm confused. Worried, even.
What is this about? Why did you move in with the guy you were just complaining to me about days ago?
This is the same guy we bumped into in the club that night, yes?
One minute, you were dancing with him like you were going to rip his clothes off and fuck him on the dance floor.
The next moment, he was gone and you wanted to go home and wouldn't say anything.
Then yesterday, you announce you're packing to move in with the guy for work reasons.
It's all highly suspicious, so come on… give.
Has he got some kind of weird hold over you, or something?
And don't bother with that bullshit about a secret project, because I didn't buy it the first time you said it, and I'm not going to buy it now.
What's happening? I'm your friend; I have a right to know. "
A right to know. Funny that she should say it like that. I've signed an NDA, so I actually have a duty to make sure she doesn't know. But if I don't tell her, she'll just keep asking more and more questions, chipping away at me until she gets to the truth.
"Well… it's a secret. I'm sworn to secrecy. I'm not meant to tell anyone."
"Jesus, Jenna, I'm your best friend, for fuck's sake. Now… come on!"
"I know, I know, Ash, and I want to tell you.
" This at least is true. There's nothing I'd like more right now than to head back to our apartment, put on my bathrobe, open a bottle of inexpensive red wine, and slump down on the couch with Ash to chat everything through with her.
She sometimes gets some funny ideas, but she's a good listener, and even more importantly, she's a friend I can trust with a secret.
"But… well, it's complicated. I don't really know how to explain it."
"Well, you'd better figure out how to explain it because if you don't, I'm going to explode."
"Who are you, the FBI? Alright, alright. I'll tell you. Are you alone? I'm not on speaker, am I?"
"No, you're not on speaker, and yes, I am alone. Now, for fuck's sake, tell me what's going on! Are you and Grayson Wolfe an item? How did it happen? Did he sweep you off your feet, Cinderella-style?"
Hahaha, little does she realize the story's more Pretty Woman than Cinderella.
"Not quite, Ash. It's a long story, but basically, we're pretending to date for a short time.
By the way, Ash, I'm only telling you this because I know you can keep a secret, so swear to me that you will not tell a single soul about this.
I'm serious. Not a soul. Or he will sue me into oblivion. He made me sign an NDA."
"He what? Are you kidding? Yeah, yeah, okay, calm down, darling, your secret's safe, I won't tell anyone. Wait—you're pretending to date him? For what? The media?"
"No, and believe me, this wasn't my idea, but he's paying me. A lot of money."
"Oh my God. Are you sleeping with him?"
"No, of course not!" My voice is high-pitched, and I fumble my mug and splash hot coffee on my desk. "Jesus, Ash."
"That's totally the voice you make when you're lying. You've already fucked him, haven't you? How was it? It was good, wasn't it?"
"No, it wasn't."
"Oh, it totally was! You are lying your ass off right now, and that's why you sound so flustered."
"Okay, Ash, I'm hanging up."
"Haha. This is hilarious. Alright, well, I hope your fake relationship works out for you. Give my love to your fake husband and think of me next time you fuck him. We're still on for Thursday pizza night, right?"
"Right." I pause. "Actually, I'm not sure. I'll have to check my schedule."
"Oh, you have to ask your new boyfriend, don't you?"
"Okay, Ashley, I'm hanging up now. Bye."
Her laughter echoes in my ears even after I put the phone down. I pause for a second, wondering if maybe I shouldn't have disclosed so much to Ash. But it's probably fine. I've known Ash for a long time, and she knows way more embarrassing secrets about me, and she's never shared any of them.
I doubt she'll share this one.
I have two more meetings toward the end of the day, the last of which is with the Wolfe Foundation planning team for the showcase.
They've finally agreed to sit with me—presumably thanks to Grayson—and the purpose of the meeting is to get everything squared away and documented, so we can move forward on a professional footing.
The meeting starts pleasantly enough, but partway through, the conference-room door opens again. Grayson, broad and striking as ever, strides in like he owns the place.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, genuinely surprised. He hadn't told me he would be coming to the meeting. He never has before.
"Just thought I ought to show my face and participate more fully. Make sure we're all in agreement. That's what you asked for—what you want, isn't it?" He takes a seat at the other end of the table, shooting me a mischievous glance. "And after that, we can go have an early dinner, my love."
Just like that, the whole room freezes. Mouths drop. Some people look like they don't know where to look or what to say. One or two, though, break into cynical grins and stare at me as if mentally saying, I knew it… She's been fucking the boss all along. That's how she got the business.
Fury scorches my bones. I can feel my heartbeat rising, and a vein on my temple starts pulsing. My muscles tense as I grip the table, trying to maintain a nonchalant smile.
Oh, I'm going to kill him.