Chapter 5
Chapter Five
S ierra
I first noticed his clean, woodsy scent with a hint of bergamot yesterday in his office. But today, it was stronger, especially when I was inside the elevator with him. The way he behaved with Robert was nasty, and I didn’t expect that from him. His reputation was proving to be true. But what I saw was a broken man. A man who carried the weight of emotional scars. I knew what that looked like because I carried the same weight.
A black Escalade pulled up to the curb. Jack opened the door, and I slid inside.
“Eric, this is my new assistant, Sierra. Sierra, Eric, my driver.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sierra.” Eric smiled.
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“We’re going to La Grande Boucherie for lunch.”
Eric pulled away from the curb, and Jack pulled out his phone and made a call. I stared out the window as Eric drove us to the restaurant.
“This goddamn city decorates earlier every year,” Jack said, slipping his phone inside his pocket.
“I know.” I let out a sigh. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” I glanced at him. “I had eleven job interviews in three weeks and wasn’t hired.”
“Great. Did I make a mistake?” he asked, arching his brow.
“No. It was my fault. I made negative comments about their Christmas decorations. I told every person who interviewed me that it looked like Christmas threw up all over their offices and someone should clean it up.”
He let out a chuckle. “Seriously? You said that?”
“I did.” I smiled. “That’s why you hired me. I didn’t have to comment on your decorations because there weren’t any.”
He chuckled, and my belly fluttered.
We arrived at the restaurant and were immediately seated at a table. I opened the menu and looked it over.
“Good afternoon, I’m Marla, and I’ll be your server. Can I get you anything to drink besides water?”
I looked at Jack. “Is there a rule about drinking during work hours?”
A smirk crossed his lips. “Not when you’re with the boss.”
“In that case, Marla, I’ll have a glass of pinot.” I smiled.
“And I’ll have a bourbon, neat,” Jack said.
After Marla brought our drinks and took our order, I tipped my wine glass to my lips.
“You commented earlier that you’re broke. Why is that?” Jack asked.
“Not everyone is a billionaire, such as yourself, Mr. Atlas. I’ve been unemployed for over two months and had to use my savings, which wasn’t much because living in New York is damn expensive. I’m behind on my rent, and my landlord threatened to evict me.”
I didn’t mean to tell him that. It just slipped out, and now I felt like a total loser.
“How behind on your rent are you?” he asked.
“It was one month, but come next week, it’ll be two.”
“Where do you live?”
“315 West 33 rd Street. The rent was manageable when my boyfriend and I split it.” The words fell out of my mouth.
“What happened between the two of you?” Jack asked, sipping his bourbon.
“He was killed two years ago when a cab hit him while he was riding his bike.”
“I’m sorry, Sierra.”
“Thanks.”
“Why didn’t you move to a cheaper place?”
“I kept meaning to. I just haven’t gotten around to it. But it looks like I may have no choice now.”
“How long were the two of you together, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“A year. We met in our hometown of Minnesota. He got a job here shortly after we met and asked me to move here with him. So, I packed up and did, not knowing he’d be killed six months later.” I finished my wine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you all that.”
“Again, I’m sorry for your loss. That must have been very difficult.”
“It was. I really didn’t know anyone here at the time.”
“Why didn’t you move back to Minnesota with your parents?”
I felt the sting in my heart when he asked that question.
“I don’t have parents or any family. Todd was all I had.”
Marla walked over with our food and set it down before us.
“Can I get you another glass of Pinot?” she asked.
“Yes, please.”
“And I’ll have another bourbon,” Jack said.
“I heard you earlier talking to your father. I know you told me it was none of my business, but I just told you things that were none of yours. So, spill the tea, Jack.”
“There’s not much to tell. He lives in Spain with his fiancée, Gabriela. They’re getting married on New Year’s Eve, and he wants me to attend.”
“You told him you were out of town. Why don’t you want to go?” I asked, picking up my sandwich.
“One, I’m not flying to Spain. Two, I could care less they’re getting married. My father and I don’t have a good relationship. He retired three years ago, leaving me in charge of the company. He met Gabriela here, and when she decided she wanted to return to her home in Spain, he went with her.”
“What about your mom?” I asked.
“She passed away when I was seven.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That was a long time ago.” He picked up the bourbon that Marla had brought over.
“So, you’ve only lived in New York for two years?” he asked.
“Yeah. I assume you grew up here?”
“I did.” He took a bite of his French dip.
His phone rang, and when he looked at it, he declined the call, but not before I saw the name Claire appear on his screen.
“You’re not going to answer that?” I asked.
“No. It’s nobody important.”
After we finished lunch, we went back to the office.
“Thanks for lunch. It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome.” He went into his office and shut the door.
Tristan walked over and stopped at my desk.
“He took you to lunch?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I smiled.
“That’s odd.” His brows furrowed.
“He’s not as bad as you all make him out to be.”
“You’ll find out soon enough, Sierra.” He tapped his knuckles on my desk before walking away.
Jack’s office door opened. “Can you come in here?”
I stood from my chair and stepped inside his office.
“After work, I need you to pick up my dry cleaning and drop it off at my place. I’ll give you my address and the address of the cleaners.”
“Okay. I can do it now,” I said.
“No. You are to do it after work. I’ll text you the addresses. You may return to your desk.”
“Okay. Do I just leave your dry cleaning with the doorman?”
“I don’t have a doorman. I live in a townhome, and I’ll be home.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I walked out of his office, furrowing my brows. A few moments later, my phone pinged with a text from Jack with the addresses. 45 West 70 th Street. I wasn’t surprised he was an upper west sider.