Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
ZACK
I have never met anyone as aggravating as her. This isn’t new…Jenny’s always had a way of getting under my skin. But what is new, or at least what I’d like to pretend is, is the fact that she’s driving me out of my mind. Once again, she’s left me rock hard, and all she did was stand there in the conservatory, arguing, defiant as ever. Watching her, I couldn’t shake last night’s image, that intoxicating scene in the conservatory playing out in my head over and over.
All I could think about was how perfect she’d look bent over, her anger fueling something darker, something primal. Damn it. This should be easy…she’s a distraction, nothing more, a current thorn in my side. But every time I’m around her, that restraint gets harder to hold on to. I can barely stand to sit through breakfast, each bite reminding me of how she tasted in that kiss, of the scent that lingered in my head far longer than it should have.
Finally, I push the plate away, barely touched, and get up, striding out of the house without so much as a backward glance. I don’t need to be surrounded by her scent, her memory, this entire house I’m realizing now more than ever, is filled with memories of her. We were worlds apart, but the fact is that we both grew up here so memories of brief glances and sightings daily reels through my mind. In the car, I dial my secretary, needing something concrete, something to snap me out of this absurd state.
As soon as she picks up, I don’t waste time. “Update me on the Tod’s contract,” I say, my tone clipped.
“Yes, Mr. Jackson,” she replies smoothly, the sound of clicking keys filling the brief silence as she pulls up the file. “The modeling contract is a six-month initial term with options to renew every three months. It includes a minimum of four campaigns for their upcoming collection. They’re covering accommodation expenses, a monthly salary, and a significant bonus based on performance.”
I absorb the details, settling into the comfort of business strategy. Part of me knows this arrangement serves my purpose…keeping her occupied, focused elsewhere, away from any risks she could stir up here. But despite my original plan, I can’t shake the need to ensure she’s treated well.
“Add a stipulation,” I say, my voice softening slightly, though I mask it with a cough. “Make sure she isn’t overworked. I want scheduled breaks, enough to allow her travel time back to New York once a month.”
There’s a pause on the other end, but my secretary quickly masks her surprise. “Understood, Mr. Jackson. I’ll also add a termination clause, allowing her the option to end the contract at any time.”
“Good,” I murmur, clearing my throat as if dismissing the sentiment beneath my instructions. “And ensure she has everything she needs. No skimping on accommodations or resources.”
“Yes, Sir,” she responds, her tone efficient. I can hear her typing, finalizing the amendments.
As I end the call, I lean back, exhaling slowly. It’s just business, I remind myself. I’m doing this to ensure she is properly occupied enough to forget about her nonsense infatuation with Brett. But deep down, I know I’m not as indifferent as I pretend to be. And that, more than anything, is the problem.
“What’s my schedule like for the rest of the week?” I ask, already calculating.
My secretary's voice is crisp, unfazed by the urgency in mine. “Tomorrow, you have back-to-back site meetings in Manhattan, starting at 9:00 a.m. The first is with Richard Lawson and his team to review updates on the Midtown project’s architectural details. They’re pushing hard to finalize the floor-to-ceiling glass specifications and lighting strategy.”
I nod, recalling the vision I’d laid out…the building’s glass exterior designed to capture light from every angle.
She continues, “At 1:00 p.m., there’s a scheduled walkthrough with potential tenants. Andrew Barron will be present. He mentioned interest from three high-profile companies, all looking for long-term leases. He’d like your input on tenant selection to ensure we’re aligned with the brand’s prestige.”
I lean back, already anticipating the types of questions these tenants will ask. They’ll want the best, and that’s exactly what we’re delivering…bespoke spaces that elevate their brands by association with ours.
“The mayor’s office also reached out regarding the zoning cooperation we discussed. They’re expecting you at City Hall on Wednesday. They’d like an update on the green spaces and public art facilities you proposed. The mayor’s keen to see this move forward…he sees it as a win for the community and good press for his office.”
“Good. We’re buying goodwill with that terrace. The press won’t miss the green space angle,” I say, picturing the public terrace we’d designed to break up the commercial density with open-air access and commissioned art. It’s another layer of appeal, not just for tenants but for the city, reinforcing our image of urban responsibility.
She hesitates briefly before adding, “There’s also the matter of air rights, as you mentioned to the mayor. We’re expected to finalize those agreements by Friday, assuming you want them completed before submitting the final plans next week.”
“Make sure everything’s aligned with the city’s expectations, and get me an update on those air rights,” I say. “We don’t want any hitches.”
As she wraps up, I consider shifting a few items around. The thought of taking time off feels foreign, but Rome calls. I clear my throat. “Push everything that isn’t critical to next week,” I say. “I’ll be out starting Thursday.”
There’s a pause. “Of course, Mr. Jackson. Should I move the zoning follow-up as well?”
“Yes, everything,” I confirm. Rome was originally scheduled months down the line, but it’s convenient to bring it forward. There’s more to handle there than just business, and the sooner I address it, the better.
“Understood,” she says, noting down the adjustments. "I'll make sure everything is coordinated for next week."
As I end the call, I look out the car window, catching a glimpse of the mansion’s conservatory as we pull away. The memory of her standing there lingers…fierce yet uncertain, a blend that gnaws at the edges of my thoughts. She’s reckless, stubborn, and clearly blind to the mess she’s stirring. But for the first time, sending her off to Tod’s feels more strategic than cold…a way to give her the opportunity she craves and keep her from entangling herself any further here.
And if flying to Rome to oversee the start of her contract is what it takes, well, it’s simply part of the arrangement.