PRESENT
The bastard.
The freaking cold-blooded, Machiavellian bastard with a villain complex.
I’m really starting to think that Daniel’s sole purpose of existing is to turn my life into a 3D nightmare.
It’s been two weeks since I became his assistant and he made every single day a rollercoaster ride. The type where you come out of it puking your guts up and cursing like a sailor on crack.
If I’m a minute late, he makes me work an extra hour. If one single thing isn’t done according to his snobbish requirements, he makes me redo it a thousand times, then throws it away.
I tried taking the high road, tried to ignore his cold barks and harsh words, but it keeps getting worse.
Almost as if he wants me to snap.
As if he’s provoking me to call him names and get myself fired.
But no.
I can do this.
Or more like, I have to.
Aspen got me in contact with one of her acquaintances in London. Andrew is an English solicitor specializing in family law and was most accommodating on the phone call we had. He told me that I have to be there for the court hearing in three months.
A no-show is bad for the records. He also said it’s a lucky break that I have a stable job in a law firm. That, and everything I’ve done for Jay through the years, will play in my favor.
What won’t, however, is how much I’ve moved him from state to state searching for better work opportunities. The fact that Jayden is a genius and should be treated as such means his father will argue that he has the means necessary to send him to the best schools out there. Not to mention that judges prefer biological parents if they prove they’ve redeemed themselves and want to take care of their children.
Last night, I stayed awake in bed, gripping my necklace and thinking maybe I should step on my heart and let Jay get the education he deserves. But I soon chased that thought away when I recalled who his father is.
There’s no way in hell I’ll let him live with an abusive predator, even if we have to sacrifice an elite education for it.
Aspen even said she’ll finance my flight and accommodation in England until I save up the money to pay her back.
She’ll also handle the solicitor’s fee.
“This is only an upfront investment,” she told me when I said I don’t know how I’ll pay her back. “You will go places, Nicole. I see it in your eyes and I hope you’ll also be able to see it soon.”
I didn’t tell her that I don’t even like thinking about or looking at myself. Not since that day at least.
But Aspen doesn’t need to be burdened by that. She’s my only ally at W&S and I intend to keep our relationship close.
When I asked her not to tell Daniel about any of this, she gave me a look, but she nodded.
The last thing I need is for Daniel or anyone from my past to get involved in my business.
I left England for a reason and I intend to keep it that way.
That is, if I don’t end up killing my boss and being charged with second-degree murder.
Inhaling a deep breath, I carry the documents he demanded to his office. Now, I just need to knock and then go in. He doesn’t demand I wait for his approval anymore.
He’s on his laptop, typing at a rapid speed, completely and utterly focused on his task.
I try not to get ensnared by the view, by how his lean fingers fly gracefully over the keyboard or how his brows slightly dip when he’s on a task.
I try not to ogle his masculine face or broad shoulders that nearly burst through his shirt. Or how the cuffs are rolled over his powerful forearms, which are now veiny, unlike when we were younger.
I really try.
But most days, I fail. Most days, I keep thinking there’s no harm in looking.
I’m just…looking.
Not dreaming, hoping, or fantasizing.
That foolish side of me was brutally murdered a long time ago.
“Are you going to spit out what you’re here for or do you plan to stand there like a second-rate statue?”
I’m used to his cold shoulder by now, but I can’t help the heat that burns my cheeks or the clamping in my stomach. Thank God he’s focused on his laptop or he would’ve caught me ogling the hell out of him.
He finally spares me a glance, his eyes closed off, frosty as arctic ice. It’s as if he wants to shake me or choke me these days. I don’t know which, or why he’s awfully hostile.
I’ve been trying my best.
But that’s never enough for the perfectionist jerk.
“Are you sick, Ms. Adler, or do you look like a dreadfully undercooked squid for sport?”
Inhaling a calming breath, I walk up to him and place the documents on his desk, resisting the urge to throw them at his illegally attractive face. “I finished the draft, proofread it, and sent it to the paralegal and emailed her a copy. I also squeezed in a ten-minute meeting with her tomorrow before lunch. Your dry cleaning was sent to your house and I emailed you a summary of the cases HR sent you.”
He flips through the pages while I’m speaking. He usually skims any work I do and still finds mistakes and snobbish remarks to say.
This time, however, I’m sure he won’t. I got Aspen’s expert view when we had lunch together today. She offered to help when she found me foaming at the mouth and calling Daniel a thousand colorful creative names.
So I spent the entire afternoon doing everything else on the list he sent me through the day.
It’s seven in the evening, two hours after the time I should’ve left, which is a record compared to the past two weeks. Since I used to leave extremely late, per his majesty’s orders. Sometimes, after they turn off the lights in the whole building.
Today, at least, I’ll be able to get back at a reasonable hour and actually cook something decent for Jay.
I feel like I barely see him these days and although Mrs. Potter watches over him, I’m still worried. Not to mention what he must’ve felt after he saw the court’s mail. He doesn’t tell me these things, but I know he hates his father as much as I do.
He’s scared of him, too.
As much as I am.
“Are you waiting for an award, Ms. Adler?”
I focus back on Daniel. “What?”
“You’re either slower than a vintage train or you prefer to play daft on a regular basis, both of which need to disappear if you want to remain in this position. Now, answer my earlier question, do you want a pat on the back or a biscuit for doing your job?”
“No, sir.”
“Then what are you waiting here for?”
“C-can I go home?”
“Get the fuck out of my face.”
I jolt at the abrasive tone. What the hell is wrong with him lately? He acts as if my existence is the work of the devil and he’s the angel sent to wipe me out.
Or maybe it’s the opposite.
I glare at him, then leave, biting my tongue so that I don’t explode on him. I’m finally going home early, so I won’t allow my temper to ruin it.
On my way out, I call Jay and tell him to get the ingredients for pasta out of the fridge.
He acts cool, but I can hear the excitement and glee in the little rascal’s voice.
As soon as I get home, Mrs. Potter hugs me and tells me he’s been such a good boy, then goes back to her place. Jayden and Lolli jump from the sofa and he hugs my waist. His face hides in my chest for a long moment. “Missed you, Nikki.”
“Missed you, too, baby.” I throw my bag on the floor and wrap my arms around him. Sometimes, it amazes me that he was a baby not so long ago, but now, he’s all grown and will probably become taller than me in no time.
“I’m no baby.” I can hear the scowl in his tone, but he doesn’t pull back.
“Yeah, whatever.” I ruffle his hair. “Have you taken your medication?”
“Yup!”
“That’s my good boy. Want to help me cook?”
He looks up at me, showing me a toothless grin. “Hell yeah.”
“Wait, look what I got you.” I rummage through my bag under the watchful eyes of a curious Lolli, then produce a key chain.
Jay gasps, snatching it from my hand as his pupils turn into saucers. “Kevin!”
Is that the name of the Minion? Well, I guess. I found it at a stand on the side of the road and had to buy it for him.
Jayden has always been obsessed with the Minions ever since he watched Despicable Me as a toddler. The small collection he assembled over the years is the first thing he packs whenever we move and he even makes sure they’re safe and sound by peeking in the drawer where he keeps them every night and morning.
“Thank you, Nikki.” He hugs me again. “He’s going to be happy to join the family.”
I shake my head as he adds them to the “Minions drawer.”
After changing into a comfortable woolen dress, Jay and I get to work.
He’s more like my cheerleader and a sloppy salad chopper, but he oohs and ahhs over everything I do.
I’m more meticulous about cooking and I find great pleasure in it. Jay always tells me I should be a chef, but he’s honestly the only one who has tasted my food, and he’s a bit biased. Besides, just because I love cooking doesn’t mean I should pursue it professionally. Though, a part of me has been secretly yearning for it.
Maybe after Jayden grows up.
Despite Jay’s awful sous-chef techniques, we make it work in less than thirty minutes, and then we have our dinner.
He prepares the table, which is basically him lighting the cheap Walmart candle that we save for special occasions. Like his birthdays.
I stopped celebrating mine when I fell out of grace.
“What’s the special occasion?” I motion at the candle.
He rolls his eyes. “You getting a job, duh.”
I slide across from him. “Even if it means we don’t spend much time together?”
“It’s okay. I understand that you have to work so the court doesn’t take custody away. I can be on my own sometimes or with Mrs. Potter. I don’t mind.”
“Oh, Jay.” I fight the tears stinging my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
He lowers his head. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Why?”
He moves the pasta on his plate. “Because you have to go back to England because of me. Because he…he’s coming for me.”
“No one is coming for you, Jay. Not when you’re with me.”
He lifts his innocent eyes to me, and they’re wide and expectant. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” I smile and motion at the pasta. “Now, eat your food.”
He digs in, appearing satisfied. “So good, Nikki.”
“Eat up, then.”
I’m about to take my first bite when my phone dings with a text.
My heart nearly reaches my throat when I see the name.
Bloody Idiot: Come to my flat. I need you to review a last-minute contract.
No. No, he doesn’t.
Bloody Idiot: And bring me something to eat from Katerina’s.
My fingers are basically punching the screen when I type.
Me: Excuse me, sir, but I’m off duty and spending personal time with my family.
Bloody Idiot: I don’t give a fuck about your personal time or your family. And you’re not off duty unless I say otherwise. Be here in thirty minutes or don’t bother showing up to work tomorrow.
I release a frustrated sound that makes Jay pause eating and give me a “what’s going on?” look.
“It’s just my twat of a boss.”
“Your typing sounded like you were about to punch someone to death.”
“Him, preferably,” I mutter, then sigh. “Sorry, Jay, can I take a rain check on the film? I have last-minute work.”
His shoulders hunch, and I hate how he quickly fakes a smile. “It’s okay. You’d fall asleep anyway.”
“So sorry, baby. But I will stay for dinner.”
Jay smiles genuinely at that and my heart bursts. What have I done to deserve this blessing?
I call Katerina’s restaurant beforehand to ask them to prepare me the meal, but Jonas informs me that they’re not accepting orders anymore.
So I tried to tell him it’s for Daniel and even begged him to let one slide, but he snobbishly hung up the phone in my face.
He and his chef have never liked me since that pesto and parmesan incident, which Daniel threw away as I predicted.
My gaze falls on my untouched plate and I chew my lip as an idea pops in my head.
This way, I get to spend a few more precious minutes with Jay. Daniel will throw away anything that’s not from Katerina anyway. He throws away half her dishes, too, because he’s picky as fuck.
I really only witness him consume unhealthy amounts of protein bars sometimes.
Ten minutes later, I reluctantly kiss Jay’s head, put the pasta in a takeout box, and head to Daniel’s flat.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been to his building. He gave me access to his flat on the first day I started working for him so I could personally deliver his dry cleaning.
This is the first time he’s called me from his flat, though.
And for some reason, when I get out of the taxi, hugging my bag, the place doesn’t feel familiar.
It’s an up-and-coming building in the heart of New York City with security that rivals the Queen’s palace.
A flat here is worth twenty-six million dollars. I know because I heard a lady bragging about it on the phone, and she only lived in a normal flat. Not like Daniel who’s in a penthouse with special access.
The concierge, a kind old lady, smiles at me. We’ve become acquaintances over the times I’ve been running like a headless chicken and she’s helped push the button for the lift for me.
She does it again and I thank her before I type in the code to Daniel’s place.
The lift opens straight to his living area. The interior of his flat is black and blue and as impersonal as funeral services.
Yes, it’s luxurious and screams money and status, but it’s as cold and frigid as its owner.
And judging by his overloaded schedule and night fun, he barely spends time here anyway. It’s like he keeps himself busy on purpose. Why, I don’t know.
The sound of giggling reaches me and I pause, thinking I overhead something. Does he have kids over?
Who in their right mind would leave their kid with that insufferable jerk?
I step into the living room and pause when I realize it’s not a kid that’s giggling.
It’s a woman.
Two, actually.
Each one is hanging on Daniel’s arm like a hooker in a Christmas parody.
The green-eyed monster rears its head, filled with rage I’ve never experienced before.
Is this what he called me in the middle of the evening for?
Is this what I left Jay sad and heartbroken for?
You know what? That’s it.
I’ve had enough.
