Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
JENNY
I n the cramped, familiar space of my closet, I fold and refold clothes, barely believing that I’m about to leave this tiny apartment above the garage once again…my whole world since I was a kid. The scent of fabric softener mingles with the faint aroma of oil and car grease wafting up from below, grounding me in the familiarity of home. My fingers brush over the worn edge of my favorite sweater, one I know I won’t take with me. It’s not “fashionable,” not the polished image Tod’s would want from me now, but it represents everything about who I’ve been.
This time, packing feels different. Paris was my first step, working for a local brand, posing for quaint boutique campaigns. There was charm in it, but it felt limited, small. Tod’s is something else entirely…a giant, a name people know everywhere. It’s intimidating, thrilling, and maybe even the first time I’ll have to really prove myself on a stage much larger than I’ve ever been on.
I consider each piece I place in my suitcase carefully, choosing clothes that project a polished, professional image. Jackets with sharp lines, blouses that fit just right, pants that speak sophistication. I feel a mix of pride and nerves, knowing that every piece I take has to tell the story of someone who belongs in a high-end, international world.
Beside me, Lila, Mrs. Finnigan’s niece, hovers in awe, her wide eyes drinking in every piece I lay out. She’s only thirteen, but there’s a fierce curiosity in her, a spark I remember having myself once. She runs her hand over a neatly folded blouse and sighs, a wistful smile creeping onto her face.
“Do you know how lucky you are, Jenny?” She says, her voice a mix of admiration and longing. “You get to live here. You get to go to Rome.”
I pause, looking at her, and the reality sinks in. Lila probably thinks I’m living some kind of fairy tale, getting to live on the estate, going off to model in Rome. But she doesn’t see the flip side…the lingering feeling of not quite belonging, of knowing that everything could vanish in an instant because it’s not truly yours.
“I’m lucky, yeah,” I say softly, tucking a pair of jeans into my bag. “But it’s not as perfect as it looks.” I don’t want to disappoint her, though. She’s too young to see all the rough edges.
She gives me a small smile, her fingers brushing the hem of a dress. “I wish I was Mrs. Finnigan’s daughter, sometimes, you know? So, I could live here too.”
The words hit me harder than I expect, reminding me that despite being the chauffeur’s daughter, I’ve been treated with warmth and kindness. I’ve had chances that most in my position wouldn’t. The Jackson household itself may be distant, but the staff…Mrs. Finnigan, the cooks, the gardeners…they’ve embraced me like family. They’ve looked out for me, even encouraged me, and never made me feel like I was “the help.”
That’s why the thought of possibly interfering in Brett’s engagement, of stirring up tension with Zack, weighs on me. Yet, standing up to Zack still feels right. He may have the power, the influence, but he doesn’t control my heart. I love Brett, and I have to hold onto that, no matter what Zack thinks or how intimidating he makes himself out to be.
After Lila leaves, I run my fingers over the open suitcase and realize I haven’t even booked a flight yet. I glance at the Tod’s contract lying on my desk, the email from their office stark and professional. Zack had been right; they’ll cover everything once I’m in Rome. But until I’m officially signed, any travel is my responsibility.
I feel a pang of embarrassment. I don’t have the money for an international ticket on such short notice. It’s absurd, being so close to a dream and yet staring down a logistical wall because I’m just… me. With a grimace, I realize I’ll have to accept Zack’s offer to hitch a ride on his private plane.
I know his routine, so the next morning, I head downstairs toward the gym, hoping to catch him at a moment when he might actually listen to me. As I step inside, I’m met with the sight of him, striking the heavy bag with an intensity that makes my breath hitch.
Zack is a force, each punch steady, controlled. Muscles bunch under his skin, his shirt clinging to his back, damp with sweat, accentuating the solid lines of his body. I’d always thought Brett was attractive, with his easy smile and boyish charm, but Zack… he’s something else. His form is more intimidating, less playful…intense in a way that makes something unsteady flutter in my chest.
I stand there, mesmerized, as he throws another punch. His brow is furrowed, beads of sweat trailing down his temple. He takes a step back, grabs a bottle of water, and notices me standing at the doorway.
“Well?” His gaze flicks over me, eyes sharp and unamused. “What are you doing here? Why are you up so early?”
I swallow, caught off guard by the intensity of his presence, and force myself to look directly at him. “I wanted… I mean, I need a favor.” My words come out softer than I intended, almost hesitant, but I don’t let myself back down.
He raises an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “A favor?” He repeats, the skepticism unmistakable. “At this hour?”
“Yes,” I reply, steeling myself, trying to hold onto my resolve. “I… I need a ride to Rome. Since Tod’s isn’t covering travel, not until I’m officially signed on. You said I could go with you.”
His gaze lingers on me, unreadable, but there’s something behind his eyes…a flicker, almost too fleeting to catch. He sets the water bottle down, and I watch as a bead of sweat trails down the side of his face, catching in the hollow of his collarbone before disappearing beneath his shirt. I feel my pulse quicken, and I hate that my eyes follow the movement.
A part of me expected him to refuse, but in the end, and I am certain to get me out of the way, he agrees.
“Sure.”