14. Jax
Jax
The next morning, I come into the office not knowing what to expect. I spent most of the night reliving the phone sex, wondering what the hell I was thinking.
I can’t believe I did that on camera. Am I an idiot?
It only occurred to me after the fact that Jones might have been recording me the whole time. My naked body may be already all over the dark web, for all I know.
The thought of that makes me feel sick.
One of my boyfriends in college once put a naked photo of me online without my consent, and when I asked him to take it down, he wouldn’t.
Thank god for my four brothers, because they dropped by his house when they found out about it. They never told me what they did to the guy, but every time I saw him at school after that, he would run in the other direction. The picture was taken down the same day.
I smile at the memory, but it fades quickly.
What would my brothers think of me working for Sterling House?
I shouldn’t care; it’s not their business, and the only reason I took the job in the first place was to help Scott, but I know Flynn wouldn’t approve. He wouldn’t like the idea of me being exploited.
I step into the elevator as the doors open. There’s a woman inside whom I recognize from yesterday when I stormed into the conference room. I now know her name is Fran because she’s one of the few people Jones told me could always disturb him if there was a problem.
As I move to stand next to her, she looks all the way down my body, her eyes fluttering as they come to rest on my shoes.
My outfit is all black as usual, but I usually add a snap of color on my feet. Today my shoes are bright red, like my nails, and her gaze lingers on them for a long time before she looks away, her lips pursing.
I straighten, sticking out my chin. I may not look like a corporate clone, but I’m not going to be judged by someone who wears a suit two sizes too large. It may be designer, but she makes it look cheap.
I jab at the elevator button, my nail catching on the edge as I push my bag further up my shoulder.
It’s an old backpack of my mother’s, and it’s faded to hell, but I won’t replace it.
It’s perfect for my workouts and has a section at the bottom for my sneakers.
I don’t care if everyone else is carrying around Berkins, I’m keeping my mom close by for as long as the bag lasts.
“That was quite the entrance yesterday,” Fran says as the elevator whirs upward on to the top floor.
I look over at her, giving her the same once-over she gave me. Her mouth is set in a thin line, and she has a stain on her blouse. Fran reminds me of every woman who has ever judged me on my appearance or looked down on me because of my family.
I shouldn’t let it get to me, but I’m rattled enough this morning that I can’t help myself.
“Thanks,” I say.
“It wasn’t a compliment,” she replies coldly. “If that’s the way your generation thinks they can get jobs these days, we’ve got a real problem.”
I clench my jaw, my fingers tightening into fists. “It worked,” I reply, just as coldly, and she scoffs.
“Yeah, well, if I had legs like yours and a tiny waist, I’m sure I could grab any job I wanted as well.”
My temper spikes, and before I can rein it in, I do something extremely stupid.
“Yeah, well, so far I haven’t had to sacrifice my looks for my position in life,” I snap, running my eyes pointedly over her figure again as the elevator doors open.
I watch her face pale as she stares at me, her mouth hanging open, stammering uselessly before she walks out.
I feel smug for about three seconds until I realize how unkind that was.
What the hell is wrong with me?
The elevator doors close before I can say anything to her, and I spend the rest of the elevator ride berating myself, wondering if I should go back down and apologize.
That was low. Women should prop each other up, not tear each other down. I had no right to target her appearance, even if she fired the first shot.
I step out onto the floor, feeling ashamed of my behavior. As I head over to my desk, my palms are sweating as I notice that Jones is already in his office. The door is open, and my nerves return in full force as I wonder if he’ll want a repeat performance.
“Next time we’ll do that in person, and I’ll make you lick it up after…”
Fuck.
I put my bag beneath my desk and am just about to sit down when I see movement from inside his office.
“Jacqueline, come in here, please.”
I swallow, glancing behind me, but no one seems to bat an eye. I mean, why would they? He’s my boss, and he’s asked to see me; no one is having fantasies about him bending me over his desk except me.
I enter the room, deliberately leaving the door open, and walk toward him, relieved when he doesn’t ask me to go back and close it.
“First, I’ve had some meeting dates proposed by one of our main investors.
I’ve been trying to meet with this guy for several weeks now,” he says, clipped and to the point.
“Before you book anything, narrow it down to three dates and send them through to me to review. I’d usually leave it up to you, but there are some things in my schedule that I can’t miss, and you won’t know which are priorities. ”
“No problem,” I say, watching him scroll through the emails on his computer. He has large hands and long, elegant fingers.
Fingers he had wrapped around his cock last night.
“Second, I need you to go down to the finance team and collect some documents from Devan Chase. They’re bank signatory papers, and they’re in hard copy, so bring them back up with you.”
“No problem.”
“Third, my mother has been calling me nonstop. If she gets through to you, tell her I’m in meetings all day long.”
It’s as if last night never happened, and I’m not sure if I’m grateful or dismayed by that. The idea that he might have a video of me in his phone resurfaces, and I fidget. His eyes flicker up at me.
“Is there an issue?” he asks, brow furrowing.
“We should have discussed it before,” I say slowly and quietly, “but I don’t want any videos of me recorded without my consent. Just for future reference.”
He blinks, staring at his screen for a little longer, and then looks up at me, his eyes softening instantly.
He leans back in his chair, steepling his hands over his stomach. It’s almost deliberate, as if he’s trying to look unthreatening.
“I would never photograph or film you without your permission. Not ever. Does that put your mind at ease?”
My hands clench into fists at my sides under that laser-focused gaze. I’ve never met a man with such an arresting stare before.
“Yes. I just wanted to make it clear.”
“For the record, if there’s something you don’t like, are nervous about, or don’t want to do, always tell me. No exceptions.”
“I wasn’t nervous about it,” I mutter, and his lips quirk before he waves me out.
“I need those finance papers by eleven.”
I leave the office, going back to my desk and logging in. After a few minutes, I feel a presence to my right and look up, smiling at Vince, who is hovering, waiting for me to notice him.
“Hey, sorry, I just wanted to give you your permanent pass,” he says, handing me a plastic rectangle attached to a black lanyard. “HR said you’re only here for the week?”
I shrug. “I guess they don’t want to commit to anything more in case I’m a psycho. I get it. I did crash a board meeting.”
He leans into me. “Such a baller move. It’s all anyone is talking about.”
“Oh god.”
He chuckles, giving me a cute little wave before he goes back to reception.
About half an hour later, I’ve dealt with the barrage of emails that have come through overnight.
I have access to Jones’s inbox, and I can hardly believe the scale of the man’s workload.
He has back-to-back meetings almost every day, and so many emails and attachments to read that it makes my head spin.
I’m about to head down to collect the papers from Devan when I look up to find
Jones in the doorway of his office, watching me.
“Could you come here, Jacqueline?” he says, and my heart starts to beat faster as I rise and follow him inside. This time, he closes the door, and a shiver of anticipation passes through me.
What is he going to ask me to do?
He sits down at his desk and glowers up at me.
Oh shit.
“I just got off the phone with Fran Morgan, my Head of Operations. She’s not pleased about a conversation the two of you had this morning.
She didn’t tell me the details, but I don’t need you being openly rude to my staff.
I let it slide yesterday because your sass is actually helpful sometimes.
Devan can take that kind of language, but Fran doesn’t appreciate it. I need you to go and apologize to her.”
“She was being a total bitch,” I say, clinging to the reason behind my sharp comment this morning, but he holds up a hand.
“I don’t want to hear it. If you work here, you speak civilly to everyone,” his eyes darken slightly, “I won't tolerate rudeness from anyone.”
“From anyone?” I ask. “Or just from us minions? Because Fran wasn’t exactly polite to me either. Hierarchy in corporate jobs is such bullshit. It’s designed to trample on the little guy.”
He raises his eyebrows. “It doesn’t matter what level you are. If anyone is rude to you, tell me, and I will deal with it. Just as I am dealing with this. Go and apologize, or don’t bother coming back.”
I leave his office, my temper simmering just beneath the surface, and a heat between my legs that has no business being there. I curse my big mouth as I go back to my computer and find out where Fran’s office is.
She’s on a lower floor, in the same section as Finance. I was already going down there to collect the documents from Devan anyway, so I decide to kill two birds with one stone.
When I arrive, people are running everywhere, and dozens of phones are all ringing at once. Devan Chase doesn’t even look at me when he hands me the file Jones has requested. It’s a crisp dark blue, and he waves it at me like I’m a dog with a bone.
So much for mutual respect.
As I walk across the floor, I can already see Fran in her office. It’s similar to Jones’s but a third of the size. It’s also covered with paperwork, folders, and boxes, as if she’s just moved in.
I clutch the finance documents closer to my chest and knock. Fran looks up, her eyes narrowing at me as she beckons me inside.
“Gray sent you down, huh? That wasn’t necessary. I was merely making a point.”
“He told me to come and apologize,” I murmur.
“Well, a forced apology doesn’t really work for me.”
I look her over. There’s something not quite right with her appearance. Her hair is a mess, even though when I saw her in the elevator, it was perfectly fine. Her blouse isn’t tucked in properly, and there are three pairs of glasses on her desk. She looks stressed as hell.
The only impressive thing about her are her nails, which I find myself admiring. They’re the high gloss kind I’ve always wanted to try.
The silence stretches, and she doesn’t look at me again, continuing to make notes on the report in front of her. I’m not known for swallowing my pride, and I bury the urge to just turn around and leave as I take another step into the room.
“Look,” I say, pushing the door almost closed behind me.
“I didn’t like the way you spoke to me this morning, and I got pissed and said something inappropriate.
I have a habit of doing that. You had a point about the way I got this job.
It was unconventional and disruptive, but I don’t like being looked down on by anyone. I didn’t appreciate it.”
I can admit when I’m wrong, but I’m not rolling over for this woman.
Her pen, which had been scrawling over the page in front of her, pauses.
“Looking down on you?” she asks, glancing up at me.
“Yeah. You looked me up and down like I was a hobo or something.” The word ‘hooker’ is on the tip of my tongue, but it hits a little too close to home to say out loud.
“Ah,” she mutters. “I was actually admiring your shoes,” she smirks. “And your tights, but I felt weird saying that. They have this kind of glitter about them. I’m just clueless about fashion. I wondered where you got them from, that’s all.”
I stare at her, the documents under my arm cutting into my fingers.
“Oh. They’re from a vintage store near my house. I got a bunch of them.”
She’s watching me now, but the cold expression on her face has softened, and her eyes are twinkling.
“I guess I could do with a lesson in not judging people on appearance, too,” I say with a shrug.
She scoffs, tugging at her flyaway hair. “Nobody’s perfect, right? But thanks for coming down in person. That takes guts.”
“That’s what I got a lot of. Sass and guts,” I say, cocking my head to the side and smiling.
I turn before her good mood sours again and head back upstairs, grateful that I might get to keep my job another day.