Don’t Tell Anyone (Breaking the Rules #1)
Prologue – Meghan
T he day I met Cooper Jackson will forever be ingrained in my mind. I remember how my breath caught in my throat, how my mouth went dry, and the way my skin tingled at the contact of his skin on mine as he shook my hand.
It was a simple introductory meeting at a job interview. I certainly didn’t think it would be something that would change my life forever.
But I should have known, and maybe deep down I did, that it was the start of our story, of how Cooper Jackson and I would come to be more than boss and employee.
So much more.
It’s a cold, wet January morning, and I’m racing down the sidewalk on my way to an interview with the Human Resources manager of Jackson and Partners . In typical Meghan Taylor fashion, I’m running late.
The position I’m interviewing for is Assistant to the Managing Partner, but I’m not holding my breath on getting it, not with my lack of experience.
I’m very aware of the fact that I’m only being interviewed because of my best friend, Alexandra–or Alex as she prefers to be called–and that my prior waitressing and bar work experience will not help me here.
She put in a good word for me and all but begged for her friend—who’d just moved to the city on a whim—to be interviewed.
“Have you got your warm coat on?” My mom worries down the phone.
“Yes, mom. I’m wrapped in layers upon layers.” I chuckle as I dodge the never ending stream of commuters.
Why does it feel like I’m a fish swimming upstream?
Although my mom says she understands my desire to move to New York, she still worries that her twenty-seven-year-old daughter is going to get hurt or worse—I guess it’s her maternal instinct.
My mom is the biggest worrier I know and, even though she sometimes forgets that I’m a grown woman, I don’t know what I’d do without her.
“I just don’t want you to get sick,” she clucks.
“I won’t, Mom. I promise I’m looking after myself. If I wrapped up any more I’d be rolling down the sidewalk like the Michelin Man.” I laugh lightly and my smile stays on my face when she joins in.
I could understand her worry if this was my first foray out into the world, but when I left home to go to college to study business—which I ended up not finishing—I found my own place and got a job to cover my bills. I know I can make this work, even if New York is a billion times more expensive.
“Good. Did you prepare enough? Have you been eating enough? I worry about you sometimes. How is Alex? Is she looking after herself?” She reels off a list of questions, not giving me the chance to respond.
I pull in a deep breath–slightly flustered at her barrage of questions–and repeat to myself that she’s just being my mom as I continue to navigate through the throng of people.
It’s in her nature to worry about me, even though sometimes it can make me feel like I’m fourteen again and failing math class—numbers are not my forte.
“I prepared as well as I could. I’ve been eating three meals a day. And if I don’t get this role, it’s New York. There are plenty of opportunities out here. And Alex is great.” I try to reassure her because I know if I don’t, she’ll get herself worked up over nothing.
The line goes quiet before she can respond, and I can hear a muffled conversation in the background.
There’s some rustling in my ear and a smile breaks out across my face as I picture my dad trying to wrestle the phone from her grip.
The line clears and I can hear my dad trying to reassure her before he takes the phone and his gruff voice fills my ears.
Briefly closing my eyes, I allow the sound to soothe me and ease my nerves.
“Now buttercup, you show them you’re the best person for this job.”
“Yes, Dad. That’s the plan.”
“And if you don’t get it, it’s not meant to be. There will be someone out there that wants to snap you up,” he assures me.
“Exactly. Worst case, I’ll come home and let Mom baby me some more.”
“We’d have you back here any time. You’ll always be our baby.”
“I know, Dad. And I’ll come home soon, but for now can you tell Mom that I’m fine?” I ask, knowing that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
“You know it. Go and show them what you’re made of, buttercup.”
I smile into the phone and say my goodbyes just as the building that houses the Jackson and Partner’s offices comes into view.
This is it.
As much as I’ve tried to reassure my parents, I’m very aware of the fact that I need to get this job. I can’t keep staying on Alex’s couch any longer than necessary, and this is the first step to my new future.
I stop on the sidewalk, taking in the impressive building. People move around me, huffing out sounds of annoyance in their rush to get to work. Pulling in a deep breath to regroup, I release it in a rush as I make my way into the building and toward the sleek reception desk.
“How can I help you?” the receptionist asks with a smile.
She looks to be in her forties with her shiny chestnut brown hair pulled back in a restricting bun, and her makeup artfully applied. Her uniform matches that of the three other receptionists—sleek black power suits.
I guess I kind of fit in with my loose, wide-leg black pants, white shirt and black jacket. I've gone for a simple flat shoe on my feet and my blonde hair is pulled back in a bun.
“Hi, my name is Meghan Taylor and I have a nine am interview booked in with Maria Fernandes from Jackson and Partners Human Resources department.”
“Of course, please take a seat and I’ll let her know you’re here.” She points me to a breakout area of uncomfortable looking gray couches before typing away on her computer, all but dismissing me.
Taking a seat in the waiting area, I use the time to look around the space. There isn’t much in the way of furniture, just a couple of couches similar to the one I’m sitting on.
There’s a bakery to the right of the doors, but other than that, the space is empty, almost clinical. Barriers lead through to a bank of elevators and I people watch as workers come through and make their way to their floors.
“Meghan? Meghan Taylor?” A petite woman with gray streaked, brown hair that falls to her shoulders comes toward me.
As she gets closer, I can see defined smile lines around her sparkling brown eyes and her straight white teeth as she gives me a warm smile.
She’s wearing shiny black three-inch heels, a bright red fifties style dress, and a black cropped cardigan.
After seeing the receptionists and having built up an image of her during our email exchanges, I didn’t expect her to look like this.
She’s cute and looks like she’s fun to be around.
She kind of reminds me of my mom with the air of comfort and openness that she exudes—I guess that quality is necessary if you work in HR.
With a smile to match hers, I stand from my seat and rub my slightly damp palms on my pant legs to wipe away the moisture before extending my hand toward her. Stupid layers.
“Ms. Fernandes, it’s so nice to meet you.”
“Oh, please, call me Maria. I may work in a law firm, but I’m not one for formalities when it comes to names.” She flashes me a grin and envelopes my hand in her own, giving it a firm shake.
“We’re going to be in the conference room on the twentieth floor for your interview,” she states as we walk toward the bank of elevators.
During the swift elevator ride, with stops on at least six floors, Maria chats to me about the firm and asks me how I’m liking New York so far. When the doors open on the twentieth floor, I’m no longer as nervous as when I arrived in the building.
Evenly spaced doors line the walls on each side of the corridor and although there are very few windows, the decor makes the space feel light and open. I can’t see anyone, but the low murmur of people working and keyboards being hit as we make our way to the conference room is somehow soothing.
With each step down the corridor, a knot of anxiousness grows and tightens in the depths of my stomach, until I feel like I might be sick due to the nerves that have rained down on me. I don’t understand where this feeling has come from. I was fine on the ride up.
Oh God, I hope I don’t throw up .
Yes, I want this job, but it’s not going to be the end of the world if I don’t get it. All morning I’ve tried to pinpoint this… I guess nervousness. It feels like a kaleidoscope of butterflies have taken flight in the pit of my stomach.
I don’t normally get nervous.
The last time I had a feeling like this I was humiliated by a girl that was supposed to be my friend and the guy I was dating, at the winter formal.
I’d had this exact same feeling in my stomach then and I wish I’d listened to it.
I’d been embarrassed in front of everyone and had vowed to remain invisible ever since—although that particular vow had only lasted for one semester.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when we arrive at an open area at the end of the corridor.
In front of us is a door that I can only assume is the conference room where my interview will be held.
The blinds are shut, and the door is firmly closed, so Maria gives a courtesy knock before opening the door and taking a step inside.
“Mr. Jackson, our nine o’clock interview is here. Do you need a moment?”
I hear a murmured response, but it’s spoken so low that I can’t hear exactly what is being said.
Blindly, I follow Maria into the center of the room as she glides toward the mahogany conference table. I had assumed my interview would only be with Maria, which in hindsight was a poor assumption. I’m careful to keep my face clear even as I internally frown at this latest development.
My mind whirls as I mentally go over the correspondence I’ve received, but when I look up into the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, my mind goes blank.