“That’s very generous of you, but we’ve already committed to the first round, with an option for round two.”
She shakes her head. “Damn. You’ve got a good idea. I was really excited about it.”
“I’m sorry. I worked with Mason to start Soleil, and we’ve stayed in touch.”
“Mason told you we have a history?”
“Just that you went to grad school together.” I don’t have the heart to tell her she gave away that they were former lovers. It doesn’t matter in business anyway.
She nods. “Before you go back to them with your next venture, please call me.”
I nod.
As she walks to her waiting car, she adds, “And make sure Nate knows I want to play poker. What’s the buy-in?”
“It’s steep at five million,” I warn.
“I can make that happen,” she says, but she’s visibly disappointed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Stephanie. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 8
Corrine
Cecelia’s service is at ten in Sausalito, across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco. On the ride over with Jackson, I look down at my black sheath dress. Gabby insisted I buy it a few years ago, and I wear it often. The hem is looking a bit ragged. I need to go shopping, but who has the time—much less the funds. I hope the dress is appropriate.
Jackson’s on the phone the entire drive, bouncing from call to call. He’s moved from his office in our building to his mobile office here in the car. I watch the emails come in on my cell phone and forward them to the appropriate people, but they’re slowing because most of Silicon Valley is going the same place we are.
Jackson has been trying to get a meeting with Hydro, and they’ve been less than responsive. I know that worries him. Jim and his team have been working on it, too. I’ve seen our financial statements, and I know we won’t close, but if Hydro hijacks his idea, I’m not sure anyone will be able to be around Jackson, he’ll be so angry and miserable to work for.
As we approach the Catholic church, I’m amazed at the people lining up along the streets. They have bouquets of flowers and signs.
Cecelia Lancaster You’re Missed
Find her killer
Nate, will you marry me?
People are crying. She was a beacon of light. A shroud of darkness covers us as we get closer.
“She’ll be missed by so many,” I murmur.
“That she will. She was such a force of nature.” Jackson stares out the window.
We patiently wait in the car as it inches toward the church in the heavy traffic. People are lined up four and five deep on the sidewalks, and most of them probably didn’t even know Cecelia. When our car finally pulls up to the front of the church, I’m shocked to see an actual red carpet laid out and photographers huddled behind a red velvet rope barrier. They’re yelling Jackson’s name, and their bulbs are flashing. He looks so striking in his black suit, crisp white shirt with French cuffs and diamond cufflinks, and a light blue silk tie.
“This isn’t a movie premiere. What are these tabloid journalists thinking?” Jackson pulls me in close.
I’m sure he can tell I’m terrified. His touch is electric. His chest is hard, and a fleeting thought of what it must look like underneath his shirt crosses my mind.
We walk in, and they don’t even ask my name. Inside the church is packed full of a who’s who of Silicon Valley—not only every tech millionaire and billionaire, but politicians. The governor of California is talking to Nate, and I spot Jim with a beautiful dark-haired woman holding his hand. Her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen from crying. There is no joy in this room. It’s low murmurs and sniffling in the solemn church.
The service is beautiful. Nate Lancaster speaks, and it’s difficult for him to get through without choking up. “Cecelia was my soulmate. You all knew how persistent she could be…” There is a chuckle in the room. “She talked almost all of you out of money for our foundation. Her passions included helping those who’d lost limbs in wars, landmines, and accidents, but also educating our future by making sure everyone has a computer.”
He shares with everyone how they met and how much she meant to him and his girls. By the end, he is full-on weeping.
I’m ugly crying, as are most of the others in the church.
Cecelia’s sister, Alicia, stands and gives a beautiful eulogy, which is followed by a full Catholic mass. It’s absolutely lovely. After the mass, Nate follows the casket out with his girls on either side of him, and he breaks down all over again. There isn’t a dry eye in the house. The girls are wailing as they roll their mother’s casket into the back of the hearse. Jim holds Nate up to keep him from collapsing in despair, and the woman with him is holding one of the girls and their aunt is holding the other. It’s heartbreaking.
Following the ceremony, there’s a very nice reception. I like that Jackson is by my side almost the entire time.
Mason Sullivan and his fiancée, Caroline Arnault, approach us. He extends his hand and Jackson clasps it. “Hey, man.” There’s a sadness in his voice.
Caroline turns to me. “That certainly sucked.”
I nod.
“Caroline, this is Corrine from my office. She worked with Cecelia.”
“She was so lovely.” Tears begin to pool in her eyes. “We worked with her foundation, too. I don’t know anyone who met her who didn’t want to work with her. She was kind and real. You know what I mean?”
I smile as Mason and Jackson step away.
“I’m not usually this weepy.” Caroline wipes the tears from her eyes. “It’s a good thing I went with waterproof mascara today.” She smiles at me, and I understand. I’m sure I look like a giant raccoon with all the crying I’ve done.
Still, I’m a bit awestruck to be talking to the Caroline Arnault. She’s American royalty. I’m ready for something a little more positive.
“I’ve seen in the supermarket tabloids…” I begin, realizing as I speak that this is a crappy thing to admit. “Will your wedding be in Italy?”
She smiles and links her arm with mine. “Cecelia would not want us crying. You’re so smart. Yes, it’ll be in Italy. One of my best friend’s in-laws own the Bellisima vineyards, and we’re getting married in Tuscany.”
“How romantic. Will it be big? Or small and private?”
“A bit of both. I hope you’ll come with Jackson.”
I shake my head. “Oh, I’m his assistant. He’ll take one of his regular girlfriends. I’m only here because I managed the relationship between the foundation and Jackson.”
She cocks her head to the side. “You look good together, and he hasn’t let you out of his sight all day.”
I snort-laugh. “Trust me, I’m not his type. He likes Barbie dolls.”
“Oh, I’ve met a few of them. They’re not right for him. But you…” She shrugs and nods.
“What trouble are you two finding?” Mason asks as he and Jackson return. Jackson hands me a drink, and I see Mason kiss Caroline on the temple.
I’m impressed by their obvious love for one another. That’s what I want.
We mingle for another hour. Each time Jackson and I get separated, I search until I find him talking to someone, and he spots me and smiles. My heart beats a bit faster. I’m not sure why I’m feeling this way about my boss.
Jim approaches me and introduces me to the pretty woman he’s with. “This is Kate Monroe, my fiancée.”
I grin. “So wonderful to meet you. What a crappy day.”
“I know. Cecelia had sent out invites to my bridal shower, and I had to cancel.”
I shake my head. “Oh no. That’s not very fun.”
She shrugs. “I had a friend do it for me. I’m actually fine without one.” She looks over at Jim and smiles. “All I care about is getting married to that handsome hunk over there.”
I blush, not because Jim isn’t a good-looking guy, but because it’s great to see her lust after him so clearly.
Kate sighs. “Can you believe Alicia’s eulogy? I loved when she said Cecelia knew the money she and Nate had was more than enough for many generations, and she wanted to be sure it was shared.”
“I agree. She met Nate long before he had a penny to his name. It’s amazing what they were able to accomplish together. I was shocked when she said they lost their brother last year to violence. How terrible for their parents that they’ve buried two children.”
She nods. “Heartbreaking for sure. But I was glad to hear her say they’ve just hit a bump in the road, and the work will continue.”
“Is she going to take over the foundation?” I ask.
“I don’t think so. She’s the main caregiver for her parents, and she wants to be a strong influence on Cecelia’s kids.”
After we chat a little more Caroline excuses herself, and Jackson reappears by my side. The crowds slowly dissipate, and people return to the City. It was a sad event, but also full of joy—definitely all Cecelia Lancaster.
As we drive back over the Golden Gate Bridge and head into town, I watch the sailboats tack and cross one another while the barges line up to enter port below.
“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?” Jackson asks.
I can feel heat emanating from him across the backseat. I want to. I want to learn more about Jackson. What drives him? Why does he push himself so hard? Where did he grow up? What’s his favorite color? What does he like to do when he isn’t working?
“Thanks, but I should get home. We have an early morning tomorrow.”
He nods. “You’re right.”
The drive back to my apartment seems endless after that. The crackle in the air is palpable, but I’m exhausted from the flood of emotions today. Still, it’s taking all my willpower not to jump my boss. I can’t explain why I feel like this, but I think it must be my psyche searching for comfort after such a crappy day.
We arrive at my apartment. “Thanks for the ride.” I open the door and begin to exit, but Jackson gets out behind me.
“Where are you going? Isn’t someone from Jim’s team always walking you to your apartment?”
“Yes, but it’s not necessary.”
“It is necessary.” He steps back and opens his arms. “Lead the way.”
It’s not worth the argument, so I trot up the stairs.
He follows me up, and when we reach the landing below my apartment, my front door looks off—as if it’s cracked open. I stop and study it. That’s strange. Could Stacy or Angela have returned home early?
Jackson follows my gaze. “Did you leave your door open when you left?”
Brian stood with me as I locked the door this morning. “No, but maybe one of my roommates came home early.”
Everything in Jackson’s body tenses, and he stomps up the last few steps. He pushes the door open and blocks my view.
I scurry up after him, and despite his broad shoulders, I can see the mayhem in my apartment. My hand goes to my mouth. Everything has been ransacked, and I catch a glimpse of blue spray paint on the walls.
“Who… Who…would do this?” I begin to sob.
I try to pass him and get a better look. There’s so much to clean up. What am I going to tell my roommates?
“Come on. Don’t touch anything,” he says. “Let’s go downstairs and call the police.”
We return to the waiting car, and Jackson gets on the phone. “Jim, there’s been a break-in at Corrine’s. Call Detective Lenning and please meet them at her apartment. Then when you’re ready, we’ll be at my apartment. I’m taking Corrine there.”
I’m numb. They were in my apartment. They touched our things. I feel absolutely violated.
Jackson takes me in his arms and holds me tight as the car zips up the hill to his apartment. As we drive, he jumps from call to call, and they’re all concerning me and my apartment. I try to listen, but I can’t follow what he says.
When we arrive, I stagger to the elevator and follow Jackson into his penthouse apartment. He sits me down on the couch and returns with a small glass of amber liquid.
“Here, drink this. It shouldn’t do anything more than calm your nerves. Jim is on his way over. The police are headed to your apartment.”
I nod. “Who could’ve done this?”
“When you left your apartment this morning, Brian escorted you down, and he saw you lock up.”
I’m unclear if he’s asking for confirmation or stating fact. “Were my roommates home? Stacy is supposed to be in Mexico with her boyfriend, Sean. And Angela has been at a trade show in Orlando. Were they there? Are they okay?”
Jackson shakes his head. “No one was in the apartment. But all the bedrooms and the kitchen look the same as the main room. When are they due to return from their trips?”
“Both on Sunday night.” I cover my face, but I’m all cried out from the afternoon.
“I think everyone will need new beds, and your couch is destroyed. Whoever came in was very angry.”
“Why me?” I lament.
“I have a guest room, and you’ll stay here,” Jackson informs me.
My head whips up. “I can’t stay with you! You’re my boss.”
“Why not?”
Is he off his rocker? There are so many reasons staying with him is a bad idea.
He cocks his head to the side and in a low voice asks again, “Why not?”
“We spent all day together,” I respond. I don’t add that I’m also thinking he’s a god, and I have dirty dreams about him.
A glorious grin crosses his face, and my heart melts. “You’ll have your own room with an en suite bath.”
I’m not about to tell him I think he’s sex on a stick. And since when do I think that anyway? I have lost my mind.
“Corrine, where do your parents live? Texas, right?”
I nod.
“Hotel rooms in the city start at four hundred dollars a night. Do you have that kind of money for the next few weeks?”
I shake my head and realize my life just took a monumental shift. “I’m going to have to move home to Houston,” I murmur. It feels difficult to breathe.
“No. You can’t do that to me,” he counters.
I look at him, confused. Do what to him? What does he mean?
I stand. “I need to call my father. I’ll get a hotel room for two weeks so I can train my replacement.”
“No, you won’t.” Jackson runs his hands through his hair. “I can’t… I won’t let you. I have plenty of room here.” He’s almost pleading with me.
But I have to keep work and the rest of my life separate. There’s no fucking way I can see him with disheveled hair or without his shirt. Nor could I stand to see him and any Barbies kanoodling. It would be beyond torture.
There’s a knock at the door, and Jim walks in. He gives me a sad smile. “How are you doing?”
I’m lost, and I don’t know what to do. “It was nice to meet Kate today.”
“She really liked you, too.” He opens a folder and hands me some photos.
I sit down hard. They’re pictures of my apartment. The first is a picture of the living room. The couch is a wreck. It’s as if someone took a knife and cut every pillow and cushion, then pulled out all the stuffing, which now covers every inch of the floor. The books from the bookshelf are dumped in a disheveled pile. Every picture and frame had been shattered. The walls have blue spray paint that says, “You were warned!”
I look up at Jim. I’m confused. I’m totally finished with Bobby. “I haven’t talked to Bobby Sanders.”
The next picture shows our tiny kitchen. The normally overstuffed cabinets are all open and empty. It looks like broken glass everywhere, along with a fine covering of white powder, which I assume is the flour from the canister on the countertop.
“Why is she doing this to me? I don’t want him.”
“Could it be someone else who perceives you were in her way to Bobby Sanders?”
“He has thousands, literally thous
ands, of women who chase him. He has a stack of nude and partially nude selfies women have emailed him. He’s printed them out.”
Jim looks surprised. “We’ll check it out.” Then he turns to Jackson. “Where is she staying?”
“She wants to go home to Houston,” he replies, sounding disgusted. “I’ve offered her my guest room. It even has a private bathroom.”
Jim turns to me. “There’s an investigation. You can’t leave, Corrine.”
“I need to call my dad. I’ll see if he can lend me some money, and I’ll find a hotel room.” I despise the idea of giving my dad any way to control me, but I don’t see any option.
“You don’t need to do that,” Jackson insists.
“Corrine, why can’t you stay here?” Jim says. “He has a guestroom, and my team can provide plenty of coverage—much easier than you being in a seedy hotel.”
I look at Jim. I’ll be fired once I say this, so maybe this is my chance. “I wait on Mr. Graham all day. It’s my job, and I love it. I’m good at it, but I can’t come home and do that all night, too. We work long hours, and I can’t come back after a long day in the office and fetch things for him and whatever girlfriend shows up at his apartment.”
She pauses to look at me. “And I hate that he dates airheads and not women with a brain,” I conclude, crossing my arms.
Chapter 9
Jackson
Corrine is analyzing the women I date again. She seems to have given this some thought. Interesting.
Jim smirks like he totally understands. He must think the same thing. Also, interesting. I never thought of a relationship as something I had time for, so I guess I haven’t been too strict with my female quality standards. But whatever. Now is not the time to ponder that.
I turn to my assistant, who still stands defiantly with her arms crossed. “Look, Corrine, none of the women I date has ever been to my house,” I assure her. “And here, I do the taking care of. It would make me very happy to take care of you. I promise you don’t need to cater to me here. And no Barbies. Promise.”
Royally Flushed: Tech Billionaires Page 7
