Chapter Five ADAM
Chapter Five
ADAM
I’d take a root canal over this meeting. But emailing Jackie about my off-the-record chat with a member of Congress was out of the question. I have to give her the bad news in person. She won’t like it one bit.
A week after that confusing yelling match at the engagement diner, I was sitting across from Congressman Turner, the man who could save Jackie’s company. No petty argument can snuff out that urge to support her.
Nothing ever could.
In between mouthfuls of expensive steak, Congressman Turner filled me in on the main hurdle in their proceedings.
The committee’s concern is foreign interference.
They’re dangling the confidence vote over the Rawlings’ heads.
It’s a waiting game now, one where the FBI holds the key to her family’s legacy until they catch whoever is responsible.
Therefore, on this fine early June morning, I take the long way to her office, detouring through the park, buying myself a few extra minutes to think.
It helps release some of the jitters. If Carter needed my help, I wouldn’t bat an eye. I have to do the same for his sister. I’ll keep it short. Say my piece and find an excuse to get out of there as fast as I can.
Jackie will be sitting regally in her corner office, in all her two-piece, high-heeled glory. And I’ll have to pretend not to observe how her tailored suit traces every perfect curve of her body.
At least when she was living in London, I didn’t have to scan every hallway and check around every corner to avoid running into her.
As I wait for the elevator to reach the top floor, images of her after the engagement dinner flash through my mind.
She looked stricken. She’s not going to be thrilled to see me today.
But Jackie’s too professional to cause a scene at the office.
She’ll pretend we’re fine and channel all her attention into fixing the problem at hand.
Two of Rawlings’ suits flank the elevator, stiff and menacing.
“Morning, gentlemen,” I tell them cheerfully.
They glare in unison and I chuckle, until I see her, and the sound lodges in my airways. Through the glass walls of her office, I spot Jackie a few feet away…but she’s not alone.
Who the fuck is that guy standing so close to her? With flowers?!
I’m so distracted that Michelle’s timid hello goes over my head. I barely notice her hopping up from her chair until she’s already following me.
“I’ll let her know you’re—”
“It’s alright, Shells,” I cut in, flashing her my most convincing smile, even as I lie through my teeth. She blushes, clearly flustered, and I lean in just enough to soften my tone. “She’s expecting me.”
She’s not. And I shouldn’t care, but the longer I stare, the more something putrid takes the place of the worry I’d been wrestling with minutes ago.
“Oh, Adam, by the way,” Michelle touches my elbow. “Thanks for the book. It… helped.”
Before I barrel into Jackie’s office, I stop. Actually look at her. She told me about her brother. About his condition, how she and her parents take care of him. It was obvious it was taking a toll on her.
“Anytime,” I say quietly. “If you want to talk, we can always grab a drink.”
She gives me a small smile and nods. It strikes me, not for the first time, that I’ve gotten closer to Jackie’s assistant this past year. Yet my “conversation” at the engagement dinner amounted to the most words her boss has said to me in that same stretch of time.
Three feet forward, I’m at the threshold. Frozen.
They’re so absorbed in each other they don’t see me. The guy is her height, dark hair, trim, pinstriped suit. The type of man her mother probably prayed Jackie would end up with. My polar opposite.
He’s cradling her face, murmuring. Like he has the fucking right to touch her like that.
For a split second, I consider turning around and leaving.
His words cut through the roar of blood rushing in my ears.
“Come back with me,” he pleads. “You can run another company in London. Hell, I think my father would probably hand you the keys to his business over me.” His thumbs caress Jackie’s cheekbones with such tenderness that my insides twist violently. “And I’ll keep you safe.”
This fancy suit thinks he could give her the comfort and safety she needs. I’m rooted on the spot, unable to focus on anything other than his hands on Jackie.
I’ve paraded my dates in front of her for years, trying to prove I’ve moved on. That I don’t need her. Never once did I consider what it would feel like to see her with someone else. Turns out it’s like my ribs just caved in.
They have history. This much is clear, and the realization is another punch in the gut.
Jackie smiles, anchoring her palm on his wrists, too comfortable with his presence. “I’m good, I promise.”
He leans in, resting his forehead against hers.
“Don’t you miss us? We were so perfect together.”
So, this is the guy she fell into bed with after she left me behind? While I was here, breaking apart, losing my damn mind, trying to understand how I could’ve misread her that badly.
“Will, I told you—”
I can’t listen anymore. I knock hard on the glass door. Loud enough that Jackie jumps back, and the sound of people working on their computers behind me comes to a halt.
I wanted her to feel embarrassed, to shake off his embrace, but instead she turns back to him. “We’ll talk about it tonight, OK?”
He levels me with a cool gaze, hand extended. “Hello there. William Errington, pleasure.”
I won’t let this pompous Brit intimidate me. My handshake is firm, perhaps more forceful than necessary. “Adam Erickson.”
He smiles placidly. “The name sounds familiar. Related to Thomas Erickson, the financier?” The fucker knows very well I’m not.
“No silver spoon for me, I’m afraid.”
He chuckles, unmistakably smug. “We can’t all be so lucky.”
I can’t help myself. “At least I inherited all my t’s and r’s up there in Minnesota.”
His clear, dry laugh grates on my nerves. “You Americans are hilarious.” He makes sure to come down hard with the accent. “I’ve always appreciated Jackie’s sense of humor.”
“She’s a riot,” I deadpan.
The woman in question clears her throat, and William breaks the stare between us, smiling at her.
“Sorry, dear. I’ll let you get back to business.” He leans in, kisses her on the cheek, and nods at me. “Mr. Erickson. Have a good one.”
I will as soon as he’s out of my sight.
The elevator doors close behind him, and Jackie’s smile vanishes. She rounds her desk, high heels clicking delicately, pencil skirt tight around her ass. Her perfectly manicured hands pick up a folder, and she looks at me cautiously.
“What are you doing here, Adam?” Her voice is cold. Detached.
I should tell her what I had planned to. Instead, anger takes over, and something darker spills out. “So that’s who you replaced me with?”
Her head snaps up. She looks at me in shock, lips parted. Then her eyes sharpen. “Are you serious right now? Just because you tumbled through so many beds you lost count doesn’t mean I did the same. Don’t you dare judge me.”
“You have no idea—” My voice dies away, snuffing out the words.
It was so easy for people to believe what they wanted when they saw me out with different women. The truth was that very few ended up at my place. It never felt right.
“It’s not a secret, Adam.” She shakes her head, trying to control her voice. “I don’t care anyway.”
“That’s why you were shooting daggers at Alexandra?”
Jackie takes a deep breath through her nose, pushing back her retort. “You’re ridiculous. What do you want? You didn’t show up at my office just to rehash the past.”
“No, because that would be pointless. You didn’t have anything to say back then, either. Want to give it a try now?”
Her frame goes rigid, her back to the city’s skyline.
Silence. There’s no getting through to her when she digs her heels in like this.
“Thought as much.” I let out a sharp, jagged breath, tightly gripping the back of the nearest chair. “For someone trained to handle the press, you’re terrible at actually communicating.”
Her mouth parts slightly, but I don’t give her the space to cut in.
“Turner’s not going to come back with a positive decision until we find out who’s attacking you and why.”
Jackie’s gaze narrows. “That could take months. Years…”
“Yeah,” I say. “There’s no way around it.”
“Have you told Carter?”
“No. Why? You’re the CEO now. You’re the target.”
She looks away, jaw hard, but not before a flicker of relief slips through the cracks. I bet it’s exhausting. Being undermined constantly, with people still treating Carter like the decision-maker, still trying to run things past him first.
I have to get out of here before I do something stupid. “I’m headed to see Derrick downstairs. See what I can do with the FBI.”
I’m halfway out the door when I hear her voice again, like a breath.
“Thank you,” she says. “For talking to Turner.”
I pause, tempted to tell her the truth. I’d do anything for you.
But I don’t.
Instead, I’d rather let her think I’m an asshole. “Your brother has sacrificed too much for this company. Trust me, I’m not doing it for you.”
Carter stares at that god-awful painting on the mantle like he can read the future in the brush strokes. He’s seen it a hundred times before, but never said anything, even if it has Jackie’s unmistakable signature in the corner.
“Why do you still keep it?”
Until now, apparently.
I scramble to keep my cool and not give myself away. “Blame my mom. She doesn’t throw anything away.”
“Didn’t peg you for a hoarder.” The pressure of the words he’s not saying is heavier than lead. I wish he’d just ask already.
Keeping my relationship with his sister a secret from him that year nearly burned a hole through my stomach. Jackie was used to people circling her to get closer to Carter. She became an expert at creating enough space between her personal life and Carter’s to protect him.
That included us. But he’s no idiot.
“You came out of your way to appraise my estate?” I ask, trying to distract him. “If you’re auditioning to be my will’s executor, you’ve got stiff competition.”
“Yeah? Who do I have to fight for the right to auction this ragged ottoman?” He’s pointing at one of the pieces of furniture I bought on my first salary. It made its way into the Upper West Side apartment when I moved. It’s not going anywhere.
My hands feel like dead weight all of a sudden, and I shove them into my pockets.
“Someone with better taste, probably.”
Carter rolls his eyes and takes a few steps around the room, like he’s taking inventory before he speaks. “I wanted to see you before I head out,” he says. “You should come stay with us this summer.”
His roundabout way of showing concern would be endearing if he wasn’t also subtly implying there’s something wrong with me.
“Did Eliza put you up to it?”
He picks up a photo frame from the end table and smiles at our younger selves monkeying around the Harvard lawn. “She agrees some fresh Maine air could do you good.”
“Yeah,” I choke out. Something about having them watch me so closely for an entire summer fills me with dread. I don’t want them to see through the cracks. “I don’t know. I’m kinda swamped.”
He scans me like he’s my freaking dad. “You going out tonight?”
“Yup. Meeting Roger at the Red Lounge.”
I was ready to bolt before Carter stopped by. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut in Jackie’s office? She short-circuits all my self-control. I need to get a drink and let loose.
“You look tired. Do you think it’s a good idea?” The concern in his tone makes me uncomfortable.
“Oh, now you believe rest is important?”
“I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Can’t bail anyway,” I lie. “Roger’s bringing two of his friends. I promised to keep one of them company.”
“Can’t stand that guy,” Carter sneers. “Who’s the lucky girl this time? Do you even remember their names?”
“You know what?” I snap. “You’re such a prude since you met Eliza.”
“I was never a fan of your lifestyle before either.”
Carter keeps circling the living room. He’s gearing up for something.
“You’re a big boy. You don’t need my opinion.” The chipped paperweight he picks up from a shelf shines between his fingers.
“But you’re going to give it anyway.”
“I’ve never interfered in your personal business.”
I shake my head, leaning against the opposite wall. “Don’t feel obligated to start now.”
Carter’s tour comes to an end in the center of the carpet, his back straight.
“Or in Jackie’s,” he continues, his tone cautious.
For a split second, there’s a flash of something in his expression, but he reels it back instantly. “If you think spending your nights like this is what you want, ram ahead. But don’t pretend this is what you need.”
With that, Carter leaves me with too many pieces that don’t fit. I’d have to decipher his cryptic message and come to a sort of understanding. And I don’t want to.
As soon as I get to the bar, I let the night turn into a blur of noise and bodies.
Stumbling through the late hours in the loud bar, the world keeps shrinking. People feel too close. My friend is laughing too loudly. The perfume of the girl plastered to my side is too strong.
Tonight, I’m the sad kind of drunk. Fucking Carter and his stupid advice.
One shot, and the roar in my head quiets a bit.
Another one, and my insides start to tingle pleasantly, dulling the ache.
Another one pushes the image of the Brit touching Jackie far enough away that it starts to fade.
Time speeds up, but my limbs become so slow I struggle to stay sitting upright.
The room sways, and the first cold sliver of panic creeps into my chest. Something’s not right.
Standing up is an even worse idea. The ground runs from under me, and I slump over the bar, overheated and drenched in sweat.
“Buddy, you OK?”
I want to brush it off and laugh, but my jaw and mouth won’t cooperate. I blink once against the heaviness in my head and body.
All I see is darkness.