Chapter 8
Daniel
I slammed this morning’s paper down on my desk, startling Margaret, who had just appeared in my doorway holding a cup of coffee. I saw it spill slightly on her cream skirt, but she ignored it before walking over to set it on my desk.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
I pulled the checker-print handkerchief from my jacket pocket and offered it to her. She took it gratefully and dabbed at the coffee that seeped into the fabric of her skirt. It was a useless attempt, but at least I didn’t look like a total asshole.
She eyed me warily before speaking. “Is everything okay, Mr. Jacobs?”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair, placing my hands behind my head and pressing my head against them.
“Not really,” I replied.
I watched as her eyes traveled to the paper on my desk and saw no surprise. She already read it, along with all of New York City. She forced a smile and handed me back my handkerchief.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“No problem.”
She lingered, as if waiting for further instruction. Or maybe she wanted to get more out of me. Or maybe this was finally the moment she made her move. Either way, I wanted to be alone.
“Thanks for the coffee,” I said dismissively, hoping she got the hint.
She did. She nodded disappointedly and turned to walk out the door, but not before saying, “I think it was a very romantic write-up, for what it’s worth.”
I could see Margaret getting swept up in the words of the article and the carefully crafted half-truths Kiera has spun. God. Had the rest of New York been swept up in this bullshit?
I scoffed as the door closed behind her, reaching for the paper again. My eyes scanned over the article before I tossed it aside. There was no mention of the charity auction and how I was obligated to spend the day with Kiera.
I should have known Kiera would talk to the press. Her image was all she really cared about, and this got her on the front page of the papers. I had hardly touched her all day, but the photographers knew how to work angles. And Kiera knew how to work them, as well.
The article didn’t even mention my visit to the Leading to Learn offices.
If anything, I thought that would be in there, since they followed us all damn day.
But no, they had their own version of the story they want to spin, and me being painted out to be a good guy wasn’t part of it. I let out a frustrated sigh.
My phone pinged on my desk. I picked it up and saw a text from Kiera:
We look pretty cute in today’s paper.
I rolled my eyes and thought of a few choice words to send back, but opted not to. Right now, I didn’t want to get on her bad side. She was pissed enough yesterday when I turned her down. Maybe that was why she ran to the press.
Instead of texting her back, I texted my best friend, Freddy:
Drinks at Bemelmans tonight?
I saw three dots appear and bounce just for a moment.
Freddy: Hell yes. Meet you after work.
Now, if only I could get through the next seven hours of work, then I could unwind with a glass of top-shelf whiskey and good company. Company I could trust. They were few and far between these days.
I had known Freddy since childhood. We both grew up on the same tree-lined street in upstate New York.
Our parents worked a lot, so we had to entertain ourselves.
It wasn’t hard. In our younger years, we played GI Joes in his treehouse or rode bikes until the streetlights came on.
In our teenage years, we raided my dad’s liquor cabinet and rode golf carts to the clubhouse to sneak into the pool.
Now, we were in our early thirties, but I wasn’t sure how much we’d grown up.
It sometimes felt like we were using play money and running around town picking up women.
He was the Upper West Side’s renowned gynecologist, a field I never imagined him getting into.
He said he loved it though. I could kind of see why.
Work seemed to drag on. There were meetings, emails, calls from the press that Margaret tried to dodge for me, but some still snuck their way through.
I found myself growing frustrated that nothing I was doing at my company mattered.
The only thing people wanted to focus on was who was in my bed.
Maybe I did it to myself. I earned this reputation.
There was a knock at my door.
“Come in,” I said.
Brody strolled in with a shit-eating grin. “Made the papers again, huh?” he asked
“Shut up,” I snapped.
“When do I get to call her my sister-in-law?”
“I mean it, Brody.”
He put his hands up in defense. I looked at him and seethed even more.
This was all his fault. If we hadn’t made that stupid bet at the club, none of this would have happened.
I wouldn’t have been up for auction, and Kiera wouldn’t have been able to force her way into my life again, and then have it splashed all over the papers.
“This was your fault,” I groused.
“How was it my fault?” he asked, plopping down in the armchair across from me, kicking his feet up on my desk.
I rolled my eyes. “If it wasn’t for your stupid bet, I wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“It wasn’t my fault the redhead wanted me.” He shrugged. “Plus, I’m pretty sure the bet was your idea.”
Could be. I couldn’t remember.
“You’re lucky, you know,” I commented.
“How’s that?”
“The press doesn’t go after you like they do me.”
He finally wiped the grin off his face and looked at me seriously.
“You’re CEO. I’m COO. I’m the less interesting younger brother. That’s not really fun either.”
I never really thought about it like that. I may have all eyes on me, but I also got all the recognition.
“It was the life we signed up for, big bro,” he said, swinging his feet from my desk and standing up.
I nodded solemnly.
“You’ll be old news tomorrow,” he remarked, heading out the door.
I better be.
I checked the time and realized it was just after five. Thank God.
**
I arrived at Bemelmans at 5:15. I chose to walk, sneaking out the back door of the building to avoid the paparazzi. I had Armand trail me in case I needed a fast exit. Thankfully, I was left alone. I needed that time to clear my head. Sometimes the noise of the city helped.
I pushed my way through the doors and walked into the dimly lit lounge.
I didn’t see Freddy yet, so I took a seat at the bar.
The soft sounds of the piano trickled through the place, along with the hushed conversations of other patrons.
The bartender spotted me and made her way over.
Her honey blonde hair fell in loose curls at her shoulders and she moved with confidence in her black and white cocktail dress. She had waited on me before.
“Mr. Jacobs, it’s nice to see you again,” she said, leaning against the bar in a carefully crafted way that was not only casual, but also gave me a bird’s eye view down her low-cut dress. An immediate way to get twenty percent more of a tip.
“Danielle, is it?” I asked, giving her a smile that lifted one side of my mouth.
“That’s right. Daniel. Danielle. Remember?” she said, pointing between the two of us.
“Of course,” I replied. I was surprised I remembered that.
“What can I get you?” she asked, her blue eyes intent on mine.
“Double whiskey. Neat.”
“Long day?” she asked, reaching for a bottle above her, so her breasts were at my eye level. I didn’t even hide my stare. On her way back down, she noticed, but didn’t mind. In fact, she smiled. She knew what she was doing.
“Very,” I answered as she slid the drink toward me.
“Well, I feel privileged you chose to spend the last of it here at Bemelmans. Hopefully, I can make it better.”
“You already are,” I said before taking a sip of my drink, not breaking eye contact.
“Are you already harassing the staff?” I heard Freddy ask as he took the seat beside me.
“Hi, Freddy,” said Danielle, shaking her head.
I guessed we came here often.
“Danielle.” He nodded. “The usual, please.”
She gave him a lippy smirk before turning to make his old fashioned.
“What’s up, man?” he asked, patting me on the back. “I saw the papers…”
“Yeah,” I grumbled.
“Tell me you’re not really back with her?”
I glared at him, incredulous. “You’re not serious.”
He shrugged. “I never know with you and Kiera. You guys have always been complicated.”
“No, that hasn’t been a thing in a while.”
“Good. Because honestly, Daniel, she is the worst.”
“I know.”
I slid my hands down my face and felt the stubble against my palms.
Danielle was back and slid over Freddy’s drink. He lifted his glass to her and took a long sip before turning to me.
“It will blow over,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
“Yeah…”
But it wouldn’t really. The only thing that would make that headline go away was another one with me and a different woman.
I glanced at Danielle, wondering if she could be the one to make all this go away and to show everyone I wasn’t really with Kiera.
That would be a big blow to her ego. I took a satisfying sip of my drink just thinking about it.
Bringing the honey-haired bartender home with me would be easy, but I realized she was not who I wanted. Ever since I met Addison two days ago in the garden, she hadn’t left my mind. She was not like anyone I’d ever met, and I hardly even knew her. I just had this feeling about her.
I mean, most of the women I knew were rich or just trying to be rich.
Addison was different. She actually cared about something other than herself, rather than chasing the dollar, or someone else’s dollar.
She was too good for me, and because of that she was a challenge.
Maybe that was why I couldn’t get her off my mind.
Once I found a conquest, in business or with women, I had to win.
I had to find a way to see her again. It shouldn’t be too hard, since I’d be giving her nonprofit hundreds of thousands of dollars.
She wouldn’t be able to refuse a meeting with me, even though our last one went so poorly, thanks to Kiera.
I decided to check my phone calendar to see if another meeting had been scheduled, but I saw nothing.
Disappointed, I signaled for Danielle to bring me another drink. Freddy looked at my empty glass.
“You really are pissed about this whole thing.”
I shrugged and took a look around the bar. The whiskey helped, but I needed a distraction. Just for tonight. Most of the tables were filled with businessmen and women half their age. I noticed the door open and did a double-take. Talk about wishful thinking.
Addison stood at the hostess stand. She wore a strapless black dress that she tugged at as she looked around with uncertainty.
Her hair was down and parted to the side, flowing just past her shoulder blades.
The hostess gestured to the bar and Addison walked to the opposite end of the bar from me.
She sat on a barstool, the hem of her black dress riding up as she crossed her legs.
I noticed strappy heels that tied at her ankles. She looked sexy as hell.
I thought to myself, game on.