Chapter Three
brIELLE
“CRASH!”
What in God’s name? I sat straight up in bed and lifted my sleep mask. Putting my feet in my fuzzy slippers, I peeked out of the bedroom door because I didn’t know what was going on.
When I looked down the hall, I saw Jameson barely making it through the door and he was on the floor, passed out.
“Good God.”
I rushed over to him and called his name. “Jameson! Wake up!” I slapped his face, and he looked up and grinned. A grin I never saw until now. I straightened my body up and told him, “Get up.”
Instead, he reached up, and his finger touched the trim of my nightgown. “What’s under here?” His words were slurred, and I could smell the alcohol on him. He reeked.
I swatted his hand away. “Jameson! Stop it. Can you walk?”
He passed out again. So I did what I do best. Made sure the door was locked securely, grabbed both of his arms, and tried to pull him back to his room. The man must be made of solid brick because I was barely making any progress. My slippers slipped out beneath me causing me to fall back, right on my bare ass.
“God damn it, Jameson.”
There was no way I was gonna deal with this on a nightly basis. I needed a full eight hours of sleep; anything less caused me to be a bitch. But I wasn’t gonna give up. Instead, I stood, straightened myself and tried to get a better grip on the hardwood floor, and continued pulling him, I was halfway there.
By the time we made it into his room, I was out of breath, and my heart was pounding fast. Granted, I was a runner on a daily basis, but I didn’t lift weights. I adjusted Jameson onto a rug in his room, pulled his suit jacket off, and removed his shoes. I wasn’t going to go any farther than that.
In his bathroom, I searched for headache medication, and when I found it, I put it on the counter, along with a glass of water from the kitchen. I left his bathroom light on in case he moved to the bed sometime and closed the door behind me.
I got in bed and saw the clock read two-forty-five a.m. Ugh.
***
At six-thirty a.m. I started the day with green juice before my run. Already in my work out outfit and my hair pulled back, it was six a.m. as I headed back to Jameson’s room. Knocking first, I didn’t hear a response, so I crept the door open a crack and saw the man was still sleeping. Oh hell no. Not when you woke me up in the middle of the night, disrupting my sleep.
Somehow, he must have managed to get in bed at some point. Bro was not going to get comfortable.
“Jameson,” I shook his body with my hand. It took a little bit, but he squinted his eyes open.
“What?”
“Get up. Drink this.” I handed him the glass of green juice. “It’ll cure the hangover. And get dressed in something you can run it.”
“Run? Oh god, this is awful,” he said after taking a drink.
“Drink it and get dressed.”
“God, you’re so bossy.”
I sat in a chair on the balcony as I sipped the last of my green juice. The air outside was cool, and it was my favorite time of day. I never started work until I had my run in, either outside during nice weather, or at an indoor gym during the cold season.
I’d been done with my drink for ten minutes when Jameson appeared. He wore a pair of black shorts and a performance shirt that hugged his chest, which showed off this defined six-pack.
“I never want to taste this again.” He raised the empty glass as he rinsed the glass and put it in the dishwasher.
“Well, I have it every morning. You ready to go?”
“Not particularly, but it doesn’t seem like I have any other option.”
I was stretching my legs. “You’re right. You’re my bitch for the next three months.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he responds, following my lead by stretching his legs.
“You live right across from Central Park, so we can go over there,” I said as we stepped into the elevator.
“This is every day for you?” he asks.
“Every day.”
“Why?”
“Why not? It helps relieve stress, and I don’t have to think about anything.”
When we get to Central Park, we start running. I change pace every so often from running to jogging and repeat.
I was riding high on my endorphins, and after thirty-five minutes, I decided to stop. “You kept up,” I told him, kind of impressed.
“You sound surprised.”
“Well, I am. I was sure you were going to throw up.”
He rested his hands on his hips while we walked around at a slower pace. “I feel like I might.”
I laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”
He nodded like yeah right. “Want to stop somewhere and get breakfast.”
“Yes. I’m starved.”
I saw a little place up ahead, and Jameson walked next to me.
“What do you want? I’m buying.”
“Ladies first, he replied, standing behind me. I ordered a biscuit, egg, and cheese sandwich with a side of home fries.
I stepped aside so he could order, and the fucker already had his credit card whipped out. I rolled my eyes when he looked at me.
After getting our food and drinks, we found a table to sit at.
“Ever been here before?” I asked before biting into my sandwich.
“No. Never noticed this place. It’s nice, though.”
“Right. You’re used to spending several hundred per plate.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“You know that,” he pointed to my food, “probably just defeats the purpose of running.”
“I never said I was running to keep a trim figure. I don’t restrict myself. And if it goes to my hips, that’s what it is.” I stopped to take another bite of my food. “I believe this morning, there is a big meeting at Titan. You should show up and at least act like you care.”
He scoffed in response, and his mood immediately changed; the remainder of our breakfast was eaten in silence.
Once we were finished, I noticed the city starting to come alive as everyone got their day started, or was heading to work. I love my job because I never knew what to expect on a daily basis, and all the things I’ve done have been different.
Jameson and I started to walk back to his apartment when he asked, “What was your last client like?”
“Difficult, didn’t listen.”
“What did you do?”
“Put the fear of god in him.”
“And it worked?”
“Like a charm. Always does.”
“You never failed at a job?”
I gave him a ‘Are you kidding’ look. “My job is where I thrive. You read my bio, right.”
He nodded. “I did.”
When we were walking back, I noticed all the looks we were getting, and I had to snap back into reality, realizing who Jameson was. New York City’s most eligible and rich bachelor.
“I’m going to shower, and we can head to Titan Enterprises,” I told him as we entered the apartment.
“Need someone to wash your back?”
“No, Jameson, I don’t.”