Chapter 12
Jackson
“The Pillarforte deal is setto close in two weeks. I got Louis to agree to a new payment structure. Ten million upfront and ten million once we close the deal with Bed, Sheets, Sleep to get our items into every store across the USA and Canada.” Ethan taps his gold pen against the desk, and his eyes narrow. “Are you listening to me, Jackson?”
“Yes, the Pillarforte deal is done,” I repeat what my brain remembers. Though my mind is elsewhere. On a certain brunette with long, curly hair and a body that went on for days. “I told you you didn’t have to offer ten million upfront.”
“It was worth thirty all in.” Ethan shrugs. “Still would have been a great deal.”
“But Louis didn’t realize that.” I smirk. “He doesn’t know his numbers as well as he thinks he does.”
“Unlike you, you mean?”
“We both know I’m the best numbers man in the city.”
“Modest, aren’t you, Jackson?” Ethan laughs, and I grin. “I’m going to miss you if you ever leave.” Ethan leans forward, his face serious. “You know that, right?”
“This is not nineteen forty-one, and I’m not off to war.”
“You know what I mean.” He shrugs and clicks his pen off and on for a few moments. “When you inevitably take over Pruitt Holdings.” So he’s decided to broach the topic we don’t talk about.
“Talking about Pruitt Holdings, what are you doing this weekend?” I change the subject.
“This weekend? Why?”
“I’m going to my grandparent’s house for Sunday lunch. I’d be grateful if you joined. Sarah as well, if she’s interested.”
“I think we’ve got plans to head to Maine.” He grabs his phone. “Let me check my calendar.”
“Maine?”
“Fresh lobsters.” He grins. “My lady loves lobster rolls.”
“Hmm.” I frown at his words. My lady? He was far more whipped than I’d previously realized. “She’s really got you on a chain, doesn’t she?”
“Not quite,” he says, and we both know that’s a lie. “At least not outside of the bedroom.” He chuckles at his joke, and I wait, trying to pretend I don’t find him funny. “By the way, how are interviews going for your new assistant?”
“Not well,” I admit. “HR seems to have the uncanny ability to find me all the worst candidates for the job. They are lining up more interviews for tomorrow. Hopefully, they have some quality candidates this time.”
“Don’t be so harsh on them, Jackson. I’m sure they’re doing the best that they can.”
“Two days ago, I had an interview with a woman who proceeded to tell me she was a descendant of the Martians. Yes, aliens from Mars. And then there was the man who told me he had a foot fetish and asked if HR could add a rule to the employee handbook stating all women had to wear open-toed shoes, and then, don’t let me get started on the?—”
“I see.” Ethan jumps up from his seat and moves around the desk. “We all have to kiss or interview a few toads before we meet the one.”
“Thankfully, the last kiss I had was not with a toad.” I think back to Zara and wonder what she’s doing. If she’s having to explain to her editor why she didn’t have a story on me. I wonder if someone in the press has gotten wind of my dad’s stroke. I frown. She couldn’t have been that duplicitous, could she?
“So, are you going to tell me more about Mrs. Gordon Ramsey?” Ethan turns to me like he thinks he’s a comedian. “I still can’t believe she spent over three hundred dollars on breakfast.”
“Not funny and nothing to talk about. Mrs. Gordon Ramsey, otherwise known as the room service queen, is old news. So, are you ditching Maine and coming with me on Sunday? I need someone to help me play defense.”
“Me, showing up happily in love isn’t going to convince your grandma to stop trying to hook you up. It will likely make her feel more encouraged to find you the perfect woman.”
“The perfect woman doesn’t exist,” I retort, but I know he has a point. If I bring Ethan to lunch with a bubbly and loved-up Sarah, my grandparents will be even more determined to help me find love like it’s some elixir that will fill my soul. And they won’t be happy with just any old woman. I know they have expectations of the sort of woman a Pruitt should be with. She has to be wealthy, from a family with old money. She has to be beautiful. She has to be well-educated, from an Ivy. And she has to be willing to give up her career to have our babies. Oh, and she’ll serve on several boards and host parties like she’s the second Martha Stewart. She will be a younger version of my mother. I have absolutely no interest in a Stepford wife. Or a wife, period.
“If you really want and need us there, I can ask Sarah if she minds postponing our plans.” Ethan grabs his phone. “Let me call her now.”
“No.” I hold my hand up and shake my head as I stand up. “It’s fine. You two can enjoy your lobster rolls, and I’ll deal with the Pruitts myself.” I head toward the door, grab the handle, and then look back at him. “Also, you forgot one caveat with the Pillarforte deal.”
“Hmm?” Ethan frowns. “What’s that?”
“You promised Louis a beach party for the merger.” I chuckle as he winces. “Or did you forget?”
“I hoped that he would forget. It’s such a stupid idea.” He rubs his chin. “Though I suppose that’s an excuse to get you to the Hamptons.”
“Don’t make me gag.”
“Come on, Jackson. Water Mill misses you. Do your parents still have their place on Rose Hill Road?”
“Yes, all six acres.” I shake my head, thinking of the home I spent many summers in. I know each room like the back of my hand.
“I was looking at a place in Bridgehampton, though Sarah liked a house in East Hampton.” Ethan grins. “Maybe we can all go in a couple of weeks.”
“You’re determined to get me there, aren’t you?”
“Hey, at least I’m not trying to get you married.”
“Don’t remind me.” I shudder. “Now, let me go and chat with HR and see how the new search is going because if they bring in any more duds for me to talk to, they’ll have to look for new jobs for themselves as well.”
“Play nice, Jackson.”
“Don’t I always?” I wink as I open the door and walk into the reception area. “Hello, Edith.” I politely nod at Ethan’s assistant, who beams at me. “Just headed to a meeting,” I rush out as I keep walking. The last thing I want to hear about is her grandkids. The less I hear about happy families or kids, the better.
“Yes, Mr. Pruitt. Have a good afternoon.”
“Thank you, Edith.” I smile warmly at her and head to the elevator. My mind wanders back to the previous night and the elevator ride at The Plaza. That had been hot. For a second, I think about getting in touch with one of my contacts at the New York Times to find out more information about Zara. Then I change my mind. I don’t want to go down that rabbit hole. I’ve already lost my trust in her. Just because the sex had been amazing doesn’t mean I want to see her again.
I get off on the fifteenth floor and head to the HR office. I can hear loud music playing, and it sounds like some of the staff are dancing and singing. So, they’re really making my new assistant a priority, then. I am going to let them have it.
“Hello, is anyone around or have I just entered the Rosser International club?” I call out sarcastically.
“Oh shit,” I hear a shocked murmur and some scuffling, and the music stops. I stand there as muffled whispers go back and forth until finally Kim steps out, her face bright red as she looks at me.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Pruitt, we were just, um, going through some files.”
“Sure you were.” I tap my foot impatiently against the ground. “How many interviews do you have lined up for me in the next few days?”
“Well,” she runs her fingers through her short blond hair and clears her throat, “I need to check with my associate.” She clears her throat. “Mila, can you come out here, please. Mr. Pruitt has some questions.” I hear a box falling, and then Mila steps into the room. She stares at me blankly as if she doesn’t know who I am. Her short black hair is in tight curls, highlighting her cheekbones. She tilts her head up at me, her dark eyes meeting mine innocently.
“Sorry, what did you say, Kim? I was just filing some?—”
“How many interviews do you have lined up for me?” I ask her directly and wait for a response. Mila nods in response but doesn’t say anything. She looks over at Kim, who also nods dumbly. “There are no interviews lined up?”
“Well, you do have very stringent requirements, Mr. Pruitt.” Mila doesn’t sound so confident now. “We’re trying to locate the best candidates.”
“I want five interviews tomorrow. Starting at nine a.m. With amazing candidates.”
“But it’s eleven a.m. now?” She sounds nervous. “We?—”
“I don’t care what you have to do, but if I don’t have five interviews lined up tomorrow morning, you’re both fired.”
“But you can’t just—” Mila stops as I issue her a long, dark smile.
“Take it up with HR if you have a problem.” I run my fingers through my hair and give them both a nod. “Nine a.m. on the dot.” I give them both a curt nod and head back to the elevator so I can return to my office. My phone beeps and I sigh as I look down and see that it’s my dad again. I don’t want to talk to him, but I can’t put it off anymore. I answer it and take a deep breath.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, trying to keep the venom from my voice.
“Jackson.” He sounds relieved that I’ve answered. “I’m so glad you’re free. I’ve been trying to call.”
“I know. I’ve been busy.” I look at my watch and sigh. “In fact, I have a conference call in ten minutes, so we’re going to have to make this quick.”
“I get it.” His voice is soft, and I freeze my movements. I’ve never heard him sound like this before. Worry fills me. Maybe he really is dying. Maybe Grandma didn”t want to worry me.
“Is everything okay?” I ask abruptly. If he’s sick, I need to know.
“I’m okay, but I do need to talk to you. See you in person. Lunch tomorrow?”
“I have interviews all day tomorrow.”
“The next day?”
“Fine,” I agree reluctantly. “Choose a place. Let me know where, and I’ll meet you there. Oh, and Dad.”
“Yes, son?”
“Please don’t bring any women to set me up with.”
He laughs, and the sound warms me. It reminds me of when I was ten years old, and I asked him to get me a calculator for Christmas so that I could add up the profit I was making by selling apples from our orchard upstate to local moms to make apple pie. It was one of the few times I ever heard my dad laugh and look at me with appreciation. I hadn’t realized until this moment how much I miss his laughter. How I yearn for it. How much I want laughter in my life. How it makes me feel light. Like last night had been until I saw Zara’s phone. She made me feel like I was floating. Being with her felt easy, like I was at home. Which is a stupid thought because I don’t even know the woman. And never will. I have to get her out of my mind.